TARGET GERMANY
Big Week, target Germany, the allies were making a strategic strike on targets in Germany. My job was to stop them.
I downloaded the big week brief, I read it avidly, and I started my preparations.
T-1 week I began a concerted effort to familiarise myself with every variant of the Focke Wulf. I flew them all, I crashed
them all; I crashed them on takeoff, I crashed them on landing, I crashed them into mountains, and the sea. I spun them, stalled them, blacked out and red out. Occasionaly I even got shot down, but hey, I didn't need other people to get myself killed ! I could manage it all on my own, I got quite good at it.
I started stocking up my computer room with supplies, in preparation for the big night. Beer, coffee, beer, maps, beer, little models of Focke Wulfs, more beer.
T-1 day things were looking good, not only could I keep the Focke Wulf in the air without stalling or spinning, but I could actually land it. Well one time in ten anyway.
T-1 hour I re-read the mission orders, I visualised myself in the cockpit of my Focke Wulf dropping down on my unsuspecting prey. Zooming through the escorts to straff the luckless bombers. It would be like shooting fish in a barrel. Not that I have ever tried shooting fish in a barrel, what with the diffraction of the water and the spread of the shot I should imagine it would be quite difficult. OK so NOT like shooting fish in a barrel, perhaps more like shooting fish that have been gutted and laid out flat ready for shooting !
T-30 mins Horror, I have just re-read the mission orders and noticed that my AW2 handle will not be recognised. Vulture, terror of the skies might not get his handle for Target Germany. Someone else might have taken it. No one would recognise me, I might end up with a handle like xz743nh. People would think I was a dweeb !!!! Aaaaaarrrgggghhhhh! Every AWs greatest nightmare was about to come true.
T-29 mins I tried logging in to the Big Week host to register my handle, its not open.
T-28 mins ditto.
T-27 mins ditto.
T-0 mins I have tried logging on to register my handle every minute since T-29, I have broken out into a cold sweat, horrible nightmares flash past my eyes, I am flying and people keep shooting me down, saying 'there goes another dweeb'. It is an even worse nightmare because it is all true except for the dweeb reference. So I get shot down, but hey! I am not a dweeb. I was on the DOS host, I have read Johnny Johnstones book 'Wing Leader' AND I have seen the 'Battle Of Britain' five times.
I log on to the Big Week host. I enter the register your CPID arena. I enter my handle and CPID. It wont accept them. I
try again. No Joy. I start to cry. I throw all my teddies out of the cockpit. It still wont work. I lie on my back, kick my
arms and legs in the air and have a tantrum. I think of =GB= for some reason, and pull myself together. I type in a message, it is profound, mature, and unequivocal, it says 'HELP'.
A voice comes out of the wilderness, 'change your country to C and then you can change your CPID', I try it, it works.
I AM VULCH, terror of the skies. I don't know who the person was who told me how to change your CPID and handle
by changing your country to C, but I will be forever in his debt, I owe him something that can never be repaid, (mainly
because I dont know who he was).
I go to the Axis fighters arena. Mage is there, and Kid, people start saying 'Hi Vulch'. My chest swells with pride people know me, OK not very many people, but its a start.
The briefing starts, my flight leader is Draq, gruppe radio frequency 245, we are I/ZG76. That doesnt sound very familiar? I check the brief, and start to cry again. I am in a ME 110 Gruppe ! Aaaarrgghhh! I have hours of practise in the FW and for the big day I am in a Messerschmitt 110, I am in a lumbering two seater, I AM GOING TO DIE ! You only get one life in Target Germany, and mine will be over about two seconds after meeting the enemy. Mage and Kid leave. I am in a friendless sky.
We take off from Lobnitz airfield, Draq, sHall, Jester, Hkstr, and me. Draq tells us our mission. Basically we draw off the fighters so that the Focke Wulfs (It should have been me ) can get at the buffs. Jester puts it more sucsinctly, 'were the bait, were expendable'. Jester starts dropping behind, I begin to suspect his commitment. I look at the map. WOW theres not lots of little squares in each sector, theres lots of BIG squares in each sector, each one is ten aircraft. I have never seen so many planes on the map. (I find out later that there are about 500 people up).
We climb steadily towards 35K, Jester keeps falling back, every time we turn to find him he turns as well, I decide he is compass disleksic, someone tells him that as a hint North is at the top of the map. At 35K we level out and I check the map again. Somehow we are ahead of the rest of the Luftwaffe, we are in the Vanguard, I dont want to be at the front, I want to be at the back, I want to be somewhere safe, I want to be away from all the nasty P51s.
Draq keeps turning us to intercept the enemy, I start to hate him. Suddenly, after about one hour in the air we are in
amongst it. My biggest nightmare comes true, five ME 110s meet four P51s co-alt. Jester drops off the plot, did he
get shot down, did he bail out, did he dump, did he get abducted by aliens ? We may never know ? (hums theme
from the twighlight zone).
So my biggest nightmare just got bigger, four 110s co-alt with four P51s. I start to cry again, i'm too young to die.
I'm not even German, I shouldnt be here. I can hear the P51 pilots sniggering as they push their throttles to the
limit. Suddenly were in, I just get time to hit my new macro. Tallyho! I'm going in now leader. I start a nose low
turn at max speed, my speed starts to bleed so I ease off the turn and start a shallow climb out, check six-clear. I am
slightly above the P51s who are in a turning fight with my comrades. I dive down into the furball, there are planes
everywhere, drop a notch of flap and start the turn, check six, I am on the tail of a P51, quick burst, nothing, ease off
the turn, check six, zoom up, turn, check six, in again, another burst, I see pings on a P51 I am firing at, check six,
nose low turn, one notch of flaps, keep turning, check six, P51 comes into view, keep turning, on the edge of blacking,
greying out, he eases off his turn, BOOM ! I got him, I got me a P51, I killed that sucker, he's toast, he's history, CRASH AND BURN. Yaaaahoooooooo! Off flaps, climb out, check six, check radar, just in time to see last P51 die.
We did it four 110s burned four P51s at co-alt with no casualties! We are the kings of the skies. (hum Luftwaffe march)
The rest of the mission passed quietly by comparison, we had a few more run-ins with lone P51s, but they dont scare me anymore. I am a lean mean fighting machine, I am a killer, I am lethal.
With fifteen minutes to go we head to Amsterdam to land our kills. The mission has been a complete success, well for
us anyway. Only one bomber got through to his target.
I log off, adrhenelin still pumping through my veins. I log on to the AW2 FR arena. I am still jumping. =GB= is there in
his P38. I take off in my FW (OK so the 110 is not bad, but lets not push our luck here) I shoot down =GB= my day is
complete.
I go to bed that night dreaming of swooping dives, the Iron Cross, and women in leather trousers. Ahhhhhhhhhhh
May all your targets be low and slow.
Vulture UK
NB: Any resemblance to real people is entirely on purpose.
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