This 'first official' chapter is based on the sortie taken on Sunday, Feb. 12th, 2012. II/JG77. This was my first sortie ever flown in a wing. This marks the beginning of my tour of service with our flyboys, and the beginning of the novelized story of the II/JG77
A rough takeoff I must admit.. Must've missed the only tree near the runway by two feet. Knowing nobody saw was somewhat relieving, but had I made collision, I wasn't sure if I would care much. I peered down at the landscape as it quickly became something of a model set.
But here I am. This was it, months of training and I'm assigned to the II/JG77. So far so good, except with the rush of needing new pilots I don't think training was supposed to be so swift.. Didn't feel like I learned much. I only had a few hours flying in total.. But my wingmen were all good men thus far. Pretty friendly to be honest, I had always heard new guys got shit on at first until they proved themselves. I was looking forward to this.
My daydreaming was broken with a crackle of the radio, the voice of Blackjack snapping in, "Three, this is One, you doin alright down there?" His voice was friendly but quiet. I raised my flaps as my 109 leveled off. "This is Three, roger One I'm good, getting into formation now." I looked around, seeing my Flight lead not far ahead, accompanied by Drew on his left wing. I slowly and somewhat sloppily closed the gap and joined.
"Good man. First formations good. Power, 80, angels three, heading three-zero, copy." Blackjack spoke quick on our formation. I caught on right away I'd have to be swift with listening and understanding every transmission. No time to drift off like in class.. Drew was quiet, but his acknowledgement was almost unnecessary for Jack. I spoke up, "Three, copy."
I banked ever so slightly along with the other two, adjusting my engine power accordingly. After a few minutes Jack mentioned we were reaching the frontlines. Briefing was that we needed to patrol the front to intercept any fighters or bombers to provide air superiority. Enemy air presence was high so we knew that odds of contact was imminent. For the guys in the 77th, that seemed to be job by default.
We banked again to patrol along the front. Almost seconds in Jack spoke up, "Contact, three o'clock, low........ He doesn't look to be on our side." I quickly looked in the direction stated, squinting. My damned goggles had just enough minor imperfections to fool me into thinking each were a tiny spec in the distance. I grunted as I fumbled with taking them off, not realizing that Jack and Drew were both banking to engage. As soon as I looked up to see they were gone, I hastily looked all around to spot them.
There. Jack was diving down like a falcon onto its prey. I banked and dove to follow. My insides lifted and churned as I could feel my speed rapidly increase. The feeling was overwhelming, and I couldn't but help to close my eyes for a brief moment, hoping to not spill my breakfast onto my lap. My old instructor's voice piped into my mind, "Never close your eyes, and never take them from the task at hand." I opened my eyes to see the enemy and Jack were nowhere in sight.
I pulled up, the force pressing against me like a giant's thumb. I grunted, breathing heavily as I leveled out just below the clouds. I looked around, then suddenly debris, followed by part of a wing and a small fighter spiraling down through the clouds ahead. I wasn't sure what kind of fighter it was, but I knew it wasn't one of ours.
Right then I wasn't sure if there wasn't any radio traffic during that time or that my mind blocked it out. I spoke anyways, "This is Three, I lost visual of you guys." It was quiet for a second until Jack responded, "Bring yourself back above the cloud line there Sully. I got the bandit." I acknowledged and began to climb back up. Jack spoke again, "Sully, remember if we get into an engagement, don't dive in behind your wingman if he can handle the situation on his own. If things get hairy then it should be a last ditch effort. Copy?"
I felt embarrassed despite my lack of training with wingman tactics. "Uh.. Copy that Jack. Sorry." I pulled up and climbed above the cloud line. I peered around, but my wing was nowhere. "Dammit, I'm really screwing the pooch today.." I cursed under my breath. Jack's voice came through again, "Three, I still have no visual of you, whats your grid?"
"Grid. Map. Shit." I thought annoyed with myself. I pulled out my map, fumbling it while looking around to make sure I was safe, and to tell where I was. It took me some time as hadn't prepared my map beforehand. I saw I was passing a river below, and referenced it with the map of our AO. "Oh god." I whispered. I was past the frontline and over enemy territory.
I radioed in, "One, this is Three, I wandered off the line, I'm going to take heading 1-8-0." A moment paused and a response from Jack, "Okay Three, just watch your 6, rally with us at Alpha-Delta-Two-Two, Golf-Five." I looked at my map and noted the grid, "Roger One, I am inbound." I brought hold and banked my plane around, heading directly south to our lines. I checked my six occasionally, looking out for any potential hunters trying to take advantage of my mistake.
Things were clear as I passed the line, and my squadron came into view. "This is Three, I have a visual on you guys." They confirmed in response as I brought myself in to rejoin formation. Drew was quiet still. He as well had been welcoming when I transferred in.
I alerted I was in formation, and we turned to head to our next checkpoint. We all were carefully watching the area around us. I realized how beautiful a day it was, but knowing the dangers the air felt thick and unwelcoming. I spoke through the radio, "Strange, such a beautiful day but the sky feels so unfriendly.." Drew and Jack both agreed.
We hit our next checkpoint and made a 180 to begin the other way. Minutes of flying and nothing so far. The thought was relieving at first, but the air felt so thick and seemed almost hard to breathe.
A familiar voice suddenly cracked onto the radio, "Blackjack, I've got eyes on you, your six is clear and I'm tailing with Daerdor." No doubt that was DesertFox. I looked back and out, there they were. Daerdor and Desert were flying side by side a good distance out. The tension seemed to settle, but as it did, Drew called out over the radio, "Contact low, 0-4-2". I looked down and in the direction called. I didn't see anything. Before I had a chance to ask, Blackjack confirmed he saw it too, verifying that it was an enemy Cobra fighter. Still, I didn't see anything..
Jack and Drew both banked to engage, and I trailed loosely trying to keep up. Just then I saw the bandit below, who was well aware we were about to engage as he moved aggressively to respond to us. It happened fast. Three on one but the enemy was holding is own. Jack moved swiftly and with purpose as the primary aggressor, Drew and I flying not far above to provide assistance and keep him on the defensive.
I lost sight of him, and in attempts to recover visual I lost Drew. I looked all around with no luck, until Jack shouted over the radio, "Three! he's coming at you! Break! Break now!" In a split second I looked over to my left. My eyes widened and it seemed like time froze. The image seared in. The fighter flying right at me, guns and cannons blazing, Jack hot on his tail. Time stood still as the image sat in front of me.
Just then there was the horrifying shrieks of bullets coursing through my cockpit for a snap second. I felt a searing pain strike across my right cheek, recoiling as a bullet cut ever so lightly along my skin and out the other side of the cockpit. I jerked my stick in reaction, sharply banking my plane away.
My body was yanked and thrown about as I attempted to maneuver, my attacker coming back for more despite Jack's assault. Jack fired lightly knowing he was growing low on ammunition, but was relentless in keeping the pressure on the hostile. The bandit fired his weapons hot and constantly, his attack seeming desperate. It was like he was trying to take at least one of us down knowing his fate was sealed to die. I rolled and banked as much and as hard as I could, hearing my entire aircraft creak from the stress. Even my body was on the line as I was fighting to stay conscious from the weight pressing against me from the maneuvers.
I began sweeping left and right, lowering my engine power, attempting to scissor him. After a moment I won the hand of cards played as he overshot me. I pulled away, my eyes locked on him however. Just then Jack came swooping in, and with a barrage of fire I was greeted with the sight of my attacker's plane breaking in two, spiraling to the ground right after.
Jack confirmed the kill over the radio, I verified. Within a few moments we regrouped and were once more in formation. As we leveled off my gas tank indicator flicked a red light on. I radioed it in and Jack and Drew responded they both were low as well. Jack radioed to home base that we were en route to RTB. Two more bandits were close by, but Desert and Draedor moved to engage.
On our way back they radioed in that both were confirmed destroyed.
Our airfield eventually came into view. I looked over at Jack's plane to see he was looking back at me. I saw his lips moving as his voice came through the radio, "You alright there? Looks like your a bit swiss cheesed." I nodded at him, "Yeah I'm good." What I was thinking was, 'Yeah, I'm still alive'. Jack nodded back, "Awfully lucky there. Gotta admit though, you need to pay more attention. Luck won't save you every sortie."
I shook my head, looking at the damage of my craft. Holes riddled the glass all around me. Lucky? Thats an understatement.. Although I'd be dead if it wasn't for Jack. Now I'll get to live one more day.
Once we landed and I brought my plane to rest in the hangar, one of the crew approached me. To my surprise he mentioned I was bleeding. I touched my face and looked at my hand to see blood. He said they'd replace and fix the plane up as I headed in.
Later that night at the tavern the guys made a toast to me, 'The Newest Nugget', for living through my first sortie. We sang and drank late into the night... But the next sortie still loomed. We knew it wouldn't be long before we made a roll of the dice once more..
Clan Time (GMT +2)
