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Skid

"FLY ALONE, DIE ALONE"


Name: MOH_SKID
Location: Alberta, Canada
Favorite Aircraft: Me-109 series
Timezone: GMT -7
Languages: English
Age: 47
Date of Inauguration: September 4, 2003

I led a flight of four A-6s from the Limone base. FOX led a flight of G-6 Lates from the base at L'Aquila. Weather was awful. I turned north to meet up with FOX. It took a while to climb up and out of the clouds. I panicked briefly as FOX reports a flight of unknown a/c. I look left, right, back, but can't see anything. Turns out it was me that he saw... I look up his contrails over my head. I'd forgotten how fast the 109s would get to alt. I get my flight to wheel around to the south. Our plan was to patrol near Messina. We configured our flights for high, fast econo-cruise. I kept watch below for a glimpse of some sort of landmark in a break in the cloud layer.

After a bit, I see four dots in a tight group at my low eleven o'clock. They are northbound. I report the same to FOX. My feeling is that these are bombers of some type. Another group of four dots appear. This group breaks into pairs immediately and turns toward us and climbs. This group has to be the escorts. We divide up the work; FOX takes his flight and attacks the escorts. I wait until he's got the fighter occupied and then I bank left into a shallow dive onto the still-tight formation of bombers. I let the Anton accelerate to 750km/h. It starts to buffet. I reduce pitch some more and ease off of the throttle. I close the distance rapidly, I see that these are single-engine planes. The high dihedral angle of the wings tell me that these are P-40s. With bombs. I quickly line up the rightmost plane. My pipper is on his flank near the wing root. I squeeze off a good burst. It shatters the '40s fuselage and bursts in flames. I flash through the smoke and flame and haul back on the stick. My Anton rockets upward. I look down over my left shoulder. Incredibly, the remaining three P-40s are still in formation... they seem unaware that their tail-end charlie has turned into a meteor. I quickly scan the skies. No fighters. FOX is still giving them fits somewhere to the south of me. I roll over and dive after the P-40 in number three position. Same drill as before. The number three P-40 detonates in front of me. I close my eyes and brace myself and... nothing. No big chunks to mar the paint job. Whew. That was close. Once again I climb back up. I look back over the the remaining pair. The number two plane is smoking slightly. It drifts out of formation, side-slipping, and disappears into the clouds. The lead plane jettisons his fat egg and pulls into a climbing right turn. I'm already descending and cutting inside his chandelle. I line up the pipper out in front him and roll right and shoot. I get solid hits and cut off his tail.

Now, I'm thinking, I should go find FOX. Suddenly, red tracers whip by my cockpit on the left. I stomp the rudder hard and roll right. Something roars by, just missing me. WTF? My first thought was that the number two P-40 had returned for revenge. I roll right-side up and see the attacker climbing up and way. Crap. A Spitfire. With E. And a wingman. I slap the throttle forward. I bank right and climb after them. I watch the wingman follow his leader up. The leader looks like he will tip over and dive on me again. Cool. I'll be able to hit the wingman and avoid the leader's attack. My climb is draining my speed fast. I get the pipper on the trailing Spit and hold down both triggers. It staggers under the hits and falls away; a wing fluttering after. Here comes the leader! I turn into him hard and deny him a shot. I roll hard and reverse my turn. There's the leader in my sight! I shoot before he extends too far. The quick burst is good and sends the Spitfire somersaulting without a tail. I dive away to build speed.

The BMW is hot, so I throttle back, my head on a swivel. Cripes, there's a/c all over the f'n place. The fight has descended to into the clouds. I see a dim shape in the mist. I dive after it, eyes straining to follow it's moves. Bah. A 109. What's that to the right? Anton. Oh yeah, just where was the rest of my flight? I merge onto two more shapes in the gray murk. We all break through the bottom of the cloud layer. The lead is another 109 with, presumably, his wingman. The trailing 109 starts shooting. Red tracers. Waaaiiit a minute... G6s only have blue MG tracer... or does a G2 have red tracers? Geez... it's gotta be a bad guy. I jam the throttle to the stops and move to intercept. I close in. Another Spit! Cripes! Just how many are there here anyway? I latch onto the Spit's six and hammer away with all of the guns. It noses over, smoking, and augers into the ground.

I'm dimly aware of FOX asking my position. I have no idea. I turn to look for a landmark and see two more planes fly right by. Odd colour scheme, I thought. Better check them out. I wheel around to get closer. Twin tail booms... a pair of P-38s! The leader sees me and breaks right, his wingman goes to the left. I go right, trying for a deflection shot. No go. The 38 pulls hard into me. I climb into a high yo-yo and roll right. There's the 38! I drop down right onto his six. I give him both triggers. His horizontal stab and a tail boom separate from the rest of the plane. I don't watch the crash; I'm banking hard to check six. Where did that other 38 go? In fact... where is everybody? Hello? Flight? 'Yes, we're here', they answer. I turn north stay at full throttle.

I status check as I climb. Lots of fuel. Enough ammo for more fighting, if I have to... but I check that little secret gauge labelled "Luck". Hmmm... it's getting low... time to RTB.