This was my first relaxed sortie with some of the guys. It comprised mostly of small skirmishes, but one of these, which was a short engagement of KB and myself in bf109's against Blackjack in a P-51. At least I recall he was flying a P-51. This one in particular I chose to novelize because of the opportunity I had in the offensive against Blackjack, and because of the many maneuvers I observed of him. Props out to you Jack, you really are a dangerous pilot!
Just a patrol. That was all. I was flying to catch back up to my flight lead just as we closed a short skirmish with an enemy scout plane. I peered over as I saw the burning wreckage smoldering in the ground far below. I shifted back in my seat, piping up on the radio, "Good kill One." My mind felt a bit of sorrow knowing the pilot never got out to save himself from his fiery burial. It was a grande pyre, like a king's sending. One responded, the radio having a heavy amount of static, "Thanks Two, try to get up in formation, just heard another bandit has taken to the skies and is headed our way."
I inquired as I began to slowly climb towards him, "Just one?" One's Bf109 began to come closer to view, the details and markings clearer. "Mmmhm. Stay close though and keep your eyes peeled." I nodded and confirmed. I looked at my flight instruments, seeing that my speed was going to take me a little longer to get into formation. I grunted in distaste at my slip up for climbing too fast. I looked around, our airfield sat near the brim of a small bay. The bay itself was thickly coated with docile looking cumulus clouds. The bay itself, though a peaceful sight, was the stage of many recent air battles. There was surely dozens of aircraft and pilots resting eternally below its surface.
We began to slowly bank, cresting over the bay. The peace broke suddenly as a P-51 pierced through a cloud, separating my weakly held formation. My flight lead moved to engage, diving down towards the bay below. Both fought back and forth for a moment, attempting to win over into advantage, while I was bringing my 109 to bare just to see where they were. I knew it was taking me far too long to even see them. By the time I was in a position to play a role in the duel, my flight leader was nowhere to be seen and the P-51 was cruising below, making no sharp movements. In his spot, the sky was his. No doubt in my mind he was scanning for me as well, but I came in at advantage, my energy strong and knowing I was well in his blind spot.
I settled in quietly behind him, taking up my aim to bring him down. An insignia on his wing, I recognized. It was him. I grinned for a brief moment, thinking that I had a demon at checkmate.. Suddenly, with a whip of his rudder, my grin turned to shock as he turned his blind spot away for a brief second, drifting his aircraft sideways. It was as if to stare directly in my eyes. He flew forward still for a moment before ripping into a dive, and I dove in after him.
It was a waltz less then 1000 from the once friendly earth and sea below. I pressed my craft and body to the limit, holding to his tail long enough to realize that every twist, every movement, each change in power, was simply reminding me that a nugget like myself was no match for him. But I would hold fast. I watched each of his moves, trying all I could to keep the duel at odds and remain at the offensive. Each time he played his cards I tried to grasp how what he was doing was even possible.
It didn't take long before my stomach sank as I saw my airspeed was at brink of stall. Unable to maneuver, he pierced upwards and out of view. I quickly scrambled to gain enough speed to manage at least a single maneuver on the defensive, my head and eyes snapped back and forth trying to spot him. But like a ghost he was gone. And I knew shortly my fate would bare similar markings if I could not at least withdraw from the area.
I tried to fly lower to hopefully hide my presence and get enough airspeed to escape. I thought for a moment I saw a glimpse of him, but as I did I felt an incredible pain accompanied by a barrage snapping all around. I looked and saw blood pouring from my lower left leg, my instruments shattered with specks of my own blood, and the sound of wind screeching from the porous holes made in my cockpit. I turned back, and there he was.
I leaned back against my seat, looking down in defeat. I nodded, murmuring to myself "Well played Major.. Well played." After a brief respite I slowly pulled back on the stick, trading all my speed for altitude. I looked back once more, seeing the lone P-51 follow me slightly before pulling away. A merciful gesture. One I sighed in relief at seeing.
I continued to climb, closing my eyes and breathing softly until I felt my bird rumble as a stall became imminent. I let go of the stick, and placing my palm on the hatch lever. I pulled the hatch open, feeling the winds pound through. I opened my eyes just as my craft came to a stall. I snapped of my seat belt and winced as I painfully pulled my wounded self up, and out.
I rolled, the feeling of falling overwhelmed me for a few moments before I felt my parachute snap open. The straps around my thighs yanked, and I began to drift down as my plane descended, spinning to its end. I looked down to see I was high enough to survive the descent. I looked around, and saw the P-51 banking towards me. I felt a feeling of nervousness as it closed in, its engine growing ever louder. As soon as I winced anticipating one final burst of gunfire, he passed me.
In that briefest of moments, I caught a glimpse of him. He wore a slight smile, and passed a slight salute. I realized then, that he and I would be seeing each other once more.
Clan Time (GMT +2)
