Congrats TFS! My first hop!!!

[BladeMeister]

After all of these years of waiting, Desert Wings Tobruk is finally added to CLOD Blitz! Congrats TFS and 1C!!! Thank you both for hammering out the deal to make this day possible!!! My download and install was seamless and the only problem I experienced was losing my sound in Windows 7 after installation of DWsT. Restarting my computer remedied that quite quickly. All of my skins, single player missions, campaigns and other addons were left intact and usable upon completion of installation. It took less than 15 minutes to finish the download and installation. I took my first flight in the Martlet, of course, and after all of these years of waiting since PF came out, I was finally back in a Wildcat\Martlet cockpit! Hallaluya!!! I always loved this PF plane and had endless hours in it fighting Zeros, shooting down Jap bombers and trapping back on my carrier. This new Martlet feels rock solid and she handles as smooth as silk. Going to have to put in some hours in her before going online, but all of that in good time.

It felt so good to be back in the office of this Barrel Chested terror of the skies once more!

 

Me and the boys decided to take a jaunt up the coast at 0730 hours.

 

What are you doing down there mate, get back in formation!

That's more like it cobber.

Steady Boys!

 

Second flight was in the lovely Kittyhawk!
On my way to the beach, just having a check of my list. I feel like I forgot to bring something?

 

Damnit! My flip flops, I forgot my flip flops. The sand on Derma beach is going to burn my feet up!

 

Hmmmmm, it seems my lass doesn't like putting here feet down on the hot sand either. Dratttt!

 

It felt really good to get back into CLOD and IMHO she looks more impressive than ever and runs even better than before. I am looking forward to exploring more and getting into the combat aspect to see how she performs under a load. There is  more new single player content than I was expecting and I am hopeful that people will use the ME and create even more SP content. Thank you TFS for all the years of hard work and to 1C and Jason for helping to make this possible. Desert Wings Tobruk is working well for me and I am looking forward to exploring all of the new content and experiencing the improvements you have made.

S!Blade<><

 

[Buzzsaw]

Thanks Blademeister... glad you are having fun.  ?

 

Don't forget to download the Aircraft Flashcard Manuals in the Update section.

[ATAG_Pattle]

Great to hear you enjoyed your Martlet Blade!

 

Look forward to winging up with you when venture into On Line flying!

 

Cheers,

 

Pattle

[Trooper117]

Nice pics BM!... and yes, it's great to be back in Cliffs again. For me it's been awhile.

[theOden]

Oh I see, so this was you BM?

 

 

 

Yeah, I'll show myself the door - no worries.

[BladeMeister]

31 minutes ago, theOden said:

Oh I see, so this was you BM?

 

 

 

Yeah, I'll show myself the door - no worries.

That was me theOden. LoL. I just got out and walked away!

 

S!Blade<><

[BladeMeister]

On 8/7/2020 at 10:09 PM, Buzzsaw said:

Thanks Blademeister... glad you are having fun.  ?

 

 

And you know what Buzzsaw, that is what it is all about. Having fun! Each of these flight Sims have their good parts and each have there parts that need improvement. As long as it is not God awful bad, then I am going to have fun with the good  parts while the improvements are made. Desert Wings Tobruk/CLOD Blitz has tons more good parts than parts that need improvement. Now hurry up and fix those sandy runway colors so I can see where the heck I am landing!!!! Just joking, I will get used to them with practice. Hope the alligators are backing down so you can assess the immediate needs for the next patch. Keep up the good work TFS!

 

S!Blade<><

[BladeMeister]

What an outstanding job TFS has done on the Vickers Wellington! Check the cockpit,

 

what a work of art! Well worth the wait IMHO. Next project <--->Avro Lancaster!!!

 

 

And a little Kitty Love for all the lonely boys down in the sand!

SBlade<><

[BladeMeister]

Coming to grips with my beloved Martlett. AKA Murder Inc.

 

S!Blade<><

 

 

Edited September 21, 2020 by BladeMeister

[BladeMeister]

 

 

Christmas Convoy

 

 

Mission Report: 12/25/1940 0830 hours:

 

It seems the Luftwaffe's High Command just couldn't let it go for one bloody day! With a chilly temperature of only 32 degree on this snowy morning, Göring himself probably gave the order to send up his boys in order to hunt down our lone convoy sailing on this day,.... this Christmas Day! While the Jerry pilots and crews toasted a Merry Christmas morning during their briefing, the armourers were fast at work fitting their Ju88s with cookies and readying their bombers for the mission at hand. It seems the Huns were given the task of delivering these not so welcome presents to the boys sailing three of our tankers from Southend-on-Sea to Margate.

 

Being the most recent bloke assigned to No. 804 Naval Air Squadron, I was up at sparrow chirp to join FAA Flt Lt. Terry 'Dick' Stapleton in flying the convoy escort mission scheduled for this morning. With snow all about and a brisk westward wind blowing, we set out on our mission. I am FAA Plt Off Paul 'Papa' Davies and I celebrated my 29^th Birthday just three weeks prior to today. I volunteered in May of this year and was accepted for flying training as an Acting Pilot Officer in the Royal Navy's Fleet Air Arm. I am one of the few Scots here in No. 804 NAS and my being older than most of these boys in the Squadron riled their witty Englander humor concerning my age, and consequentially they came up with the moniker 'Papa', which I was tagged with shortly after my arrival. All of the carrying on amongst the boys was in good sport and most of the time conducted with all due respect,...well,... most of the time. Almost all of the pilots here in No. 804 NAS have a nickname hung on them sooner or later, but 'Pappa' would show these boys, and the Jerrys, that I have a steady hand, a fierce heart and a keen eye to bring my arms to bear on any that dare cross me!

 

The day after completing my FAA training and receiving my Royal Navy pilots wings, only two weeks ago to the day, I found myself at Rochford Aerodrome for my first posting right outside the small town of Rochford England. Here I began flying with No. 804 NAS FAA under Fighter Command and this was the official beginning of my FAA career. I dreamed of flying a Hawker Hurricane, or possibly even a Supermarine Spitfire, only to be assigned to a Martlet. A 'Yank' plane at that! One has to raise the bloody undercarriage with a hand crank for God's sake! I must be honest though, the little buggars are fast and turn quite well, but this lass is no Spitfire. She might have a go at a Hurricane, but a Spitfire on full bore would have her in a spot and gone for six as quick as you please!

 

Quickly after takeoff, not even a few hundred feet off the ground, Dick found that his undercarriage hand crank was jammed and as a result he could not raise landing gear in the least. He notified me on the R/T and immediately returned to Rochford Aerodrome, which left only me to fly the convoy escort solo. I quickly said a Prayer to The Man Upstairs asking Him to go with me, protect me and guide my attacks to make my aim true should I encounter any Jerries.

 

The Huns had already beaten us, of course us was simply my lone self now, to the punch and set their sights on delivering their unwanted gifts quite early this morning. Flying from France across The Strait of Dover at wave top height, they passed Margate only three miles off the coast and prepared to enter the outer reaches of The Thames Estuary. Each bomber began their slow climb to 1500 feet, and all to soon with the convoy spotted and eggs prepared, each of the three Ju88s readied themselves to target a single tanker. Just minutes later one of the Hun bombardiers called out, 'Bomben weg!', as the first set of bombs was released from his Ju88.

 

The second Ju88 dropped his bombs only seconds after the first, and each of these bombers narrowly missed their target while beginning to encounter light AA fire from the escort cruiser and each of the tankers. The Tommies manning these ack-ack guns were crack shots and as a result the Huns were experiencing some very close AA bursts! Having delivered their cookies, each of these two Junkers bombers hastily turned towards France, one sustaining an indirect shrapnel hit to its' port wing and suffering a fuel leak.

 

The final Ju88 sought to line up its' target while far below the tanker's Captain shouted for his helmsmen to perform an emergency starboard evasive maneuver with the intention of thwarting the Jerry's efforts to attack his ship. 'Bomben weg!' called out the Jerry bombardier upon dropping his eggs. This final Jerry pilot quickly turned for home as he knew the RAF would be along in quite a hurry. His cookies narrowly missed the deck of the last tanker. Not even one of the three Ju88s had achieved their mission goals. Now it would be my turn to welcome at the least one of the Hun bomber crew with a little Scottish Christmas Cheer from Fighter Command's Fleet Air Arm! All wrapped up in my nice shiny Martlet, I was at the ready to deliver a few presents of my own!

 

I spotted three Junkers Ju88s as I approached the convoy, noting that each ship looked to be unharmed and steaming hard for Margate. I scanned the sky surrounding my Martlet and did not see any other kites about, so I called the bandits in to my controller on the blower. Then I set my sights on the trailing bomber as each of the three were making their turn towards France. These Huns knew that if they could simply make their way back across The Strait of Dover to the French countryside that they would be out of danger. Diving from his port side I made my initial run carrying 220 mph of speed. I maintained my approach in a lead turn to ensure I would continue to traverse across his tail and not present myself as an easy mark for the rear gunner. Just as I closed range I leveled my altitude with the big bomber establishing a troublesome shot for the dorsal gunner and denying the ventral gunner any means to attack me.

 

As I pursued my initial assault I quickly silenced the dorsal gunner. My chatterboxes were lighting up this Junker as pieces of the aircraft began to find their way back towards my lass.

 

The Jerry pilot jinked this way and that, but I had him in my sights and he jolly well was not going to make it back across The Strait for his Christmas celebration if I had my say in the matter!

 

As I closed to within 100 yards, throttling back was my next move as I continued to tear this Ju88 apart with my four .50 cal machine guns.

 

Somehow at the present moment the rear cockpit glass and whole frame assembly shot upward from the damaged bomber and then proceeded to quickly slip below my Martlet while falling down into the Estuary below. I could clearly see the dorsal gunner slumped over his weapon now, and the man beside the pilot, whom had already been dispatched, was lifeless as well.

 

The Junker had slowed to just 160 mph and I could tell that the Jerry pilot was doing all within his power to hold the big bomber back from stalling to the starboard side. That wing dipped downward again and again towards the chilly water below as our speed decreased even more.

 

With one final burst to the Ju88, which was now smoking heavily and gave the appearance of being severely damaged, its' starboard wing fell downward towards the drink one final time as the bomber dropped lower and lower.

 

I watched the rising sun glimmering off of the top side of the bomber as it slowly rolled onto a knife's edge and slipped violently into the frigid waters of The Strait. This body of water has recently become a vast graveyard for the many souls cast into it by this merciless war. I had just realized my first victory against these unknown adversaries on this,.....this Christmas morning. The elation which I had always dreamed of, upon securing my first victory, was nowhere to be found. A somber calm came over me as I scanned the sky in my vicinity to see if any of the other Ju88s or any new Jerrys were in my immediate area, but none were to be seen. I then called my victory in to my controller, as I contemplated what had just happened, and I was then ordered to continue my escort for the ships in the convoy.

 

I patrolled for another thirty minutes before reporting to my controller that I was low on rounds and petrol as well. I was given a vector back to Rochford and proceeded to fly over the convoy one final time. As a salute, I waggled my wings as I flew low over their ships. I watched as the men below on the decks of the three tankers were waving, a few dancing a little jig and clapping their hands in appreciation of this FAA pilot watching over them. The Man Upstairs had given those sailors a gift of safe passage on this Christmas Day. Just as I was clearing the last tanker I espied a tight Vic of RAF Spitfires approaching from my two o'clock high to carry on with the escort. I gave thanks during the slow trip back to Rochford for this great gift for our Merchant Marine Sailors and The Royal Navy as well as for my own safe and fruitful maneuvers on this day. It was good to see the aerodrome and to be safely home lest pancaking. As I came around the airstrip I lazily made a circuit, lowering my flaps, cranking 39 rounds of the manual undercarriage handle to lower and lock my landing gear. “Dam-n those 'Yanks!”, I said aloud to myself as I kicked hard on one rudder pedal so as to side slip and lose a wee bit of speed to bring about the roughly 85 mph which I was looking for. It was quite a lovely approach coming in over the town of Rochford, rounding the water tower and soaring in rather low and close to directly over the train trestle while lining up on my final.

 

While I still dream of flying a Hurricane, or perhaps a Spitfire, I am presently quite content with my Martlet as she has performed quite admirably on this day. She is a sassy lass, a bit stubborn in some ways but she will turn on a dime, dive like a falcon and has quite a mean streak while sporting her four .50 cal chatterboxes, which the Huns are coming to fear.

 

She is as stable as a three legged stool when you have her trimmed properly for flaps and undercarriage lowered. At 85 mph she just coasts in and with a little flare directly before pancaking, she will make a soft three point landing. Ease back full on the control column and lightly, and I do mean lightly, apply the binders or else, over you go. There is plenty of runway at Rochford Aerodrome so no need in getting to busy on the binders! Just a wee bit of dancing on the rudder pedals is all that is needed to keep her tracking straight down the strip! Once this lass has slowed to a turtle's pace, unlock the tail wheel and she is rather gentle to taxi with a lot of rudder and a little binder while working the throttle and always holding back on the control column.

 

Of course the new bloke is assigned the revetment at the far end of the field. Farthest from the Duty Erk's shack, even further from the Officer's mess, which is my second stop after visiting the Duty Erk's shack and completing a quick debriefing. Parking my lass is a snap as she turns as well on the ground as she does in the air. I put her deep in the revetment so nil of those nasty Huns can have an easy go at strafing her. One of the fitters shoves a pair of chocks under her wheels and then it is throttle to lowest setting, mixture to idle cut out, fuel cock off, magnetos off and all 1,240 horses of her Wright Cyclone Radial engine quiet down until not one of the 9 cylinders in her is left firing. The Martlet entered service with the FAA in September of 1940 when 81 aircraft, which had originally been ordered by France, were taken over by the British after France surrendered to Germany. This day, Christmas Day, was the first 'kill' for any American built fighter in British service. My lass and I, from No. 804 Naval Air Squadron, Fleet Air Arm of The Royal Navy, forced down that Junkers Ju88 on my Christmas Convoy mission. This was only the beginning of the Martlet's stalwart service with Fighter Command in the Royal Navy's Fleet Air Arm!

 

 

 

Edited December 31, 2020 by BladeMeister

[ATAG_Pattle]

Great report BM

[major_setback]

Wonderful screenshots!

The Martlet is a lovely plane and the Desert Wings model of the aircraft does it justice.

 

[BladeMeister]

5 hours ago, major_setback said:

Wonderful screenshots!

The Martlet is a lovely plane and the Desert Wings model of the aircraft does it justice.

 

Thanks ATAG_Pattle.

Thanks major_setback.

Yes I have a strange infatuation with the Martlet and TFS did an excellent job modelling it. I just wish there were at least a few more skins for it. I see only 1 skin for it in my install and that doesn't even have the plane number on it like the AI skin does. Maybe someone will decide to make a few more for it, or share some if they already have more. Hint, Hint, Wink, Wink!!!!!

 

S!Blade<><

[major_setback]

The Martlet.

There are probably only 1 or 2 custom skins with codes and markings. But there should be some skins with different U.S. and British markings either in the Martlet skin folder or the tropical version '...trop'.

There should be several camouflage variations too.

 

When the multi layered template is released we should see more skins from the community.

 

I might include some fantasy non- historic skins with the template (skins for later Mark's of the aircraft that wouldn't have flown on the game map)

 

Cheers.

Edited September 22, 2020 by major_setback

[BladeMeister]

My first few hops with the new Hotas setup. A little fly about in the Derna area and then landing and takeoff practice. Coming to terms withe Trop Hurricanes. Cannot wait for TrueSky and 4k skins.

 

 Cheers!

  S!Blade<><

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edited August 12, 2021 by BladeMeister

[BladeMeister]

Random pics from another hop, this time in the Kittyhawk Mk IA, around Bardia.

 

S!Blade<><

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And a little to heavy on the brakes.

Edited August 16, 2021 by BladeMeister

[BladeMeister]

A short combat AAR for your entertainment. Hope you enjoy it. It certainly had my blood boiling a bit and caused me to endlessly check my six all the way back to Gazala Aerodrome. DWT is a Sweet theater, and I look forward to starting the Desert Rats Campaign very soon.

 

S!Blade<><

 

Shortly before 07:00 hours with the temperature at Gazala Aerodrome hovering around a chilly 37 degrees, we fired off our Kitthawk's Allison V1710 engines and prepared for the first patrol of June 13 1942.

 

Being the new kid on the block, I was left to eat the Gazala dust as my three flight mates screamed down the sand airstrip. I paused 20 seconds or so and the light morning breeze blew away most of the dust which was kicked up. Easing my stick back while holding the binders, I kicked over the rpms to 2000 before releasing my brakes and starting my rollout.

 

First I formed up with one of my section mates.

 

Then we  joined the other two in our section and we all began our cruise, running our Allison's at 2600 rpm and 42 inches of manifold pressure, en-route to our assigned patrol sector over el Adem.

 

We were vectored to intercept a group of JU 88 bombers which were suspected of being en-route to attack Tobruk.

 

First we came across two Schwarms of Bf 109s to our 11 o'clock low, each in finger four formation.

 

Our section split into two pairs and I followed my mate in on a diving attack. We had to mind our airspeed as we were only rated to dive at a maximum speed of 470 mph.

 

I split from my mate as I dove in and opened fire with my chatterboxes and scored the only hits that I would make during this entire fight.

 

I gave chase and attempted to line Jerry up for another burst.

 

I tried to land more hits but this Hun just seemed to stroll right away from my Kittyhawk.

 

Quickly checking my six I found another Jerry bastard closing on my Kittyhawk rather quickly!

 

I saw his first burst fly past my canopy, and I knew I could no longer pursue the Hun in front of me.

 

I broke to my starboard side and Jerry was right on me!

 

As I barrel rolled to my starboard side I knew Jerry was going to overshoot me.

 

The 109 shot by and I noticed a yellow 11 on the side as I tried to line up for a shot. It was no use, he was simply to fast.

 

Looking to my port side I briefly saw one of my mates bailing out of his severely damaged Kittyhawk.

 

The next second I see rounds fly past my canopy once more and hastily looking over my port shoulder I see another Hun rapidly approaching!

 

He dipped low under my port wing, and I see a yellow number 8 on the side of this 109.

 

Before I can make a move to attack, this Hun is 1000ft above me and climbing like a bat out of hell. I lower my nose and dive in excess of the 470 mph limit as I make my way out of this dogfight. I am outclassed by these Huns in their 109s and I can no longer spot any of my mates in the vicinity. I will run to make it back to Gazala Aerodrome so as to fight another day. Later I find that three of us had returned safely with one of my mates scoring a kill. The desert rats watched as our downed pilot parachuted to safety, and they picked him up in short order. He was returned to us, a might shaken up but unharmed, late that very same afternoon. What a harrowing experience this was for me on my first desert patrol. Having our Kittyhawks outclassed, not to mention outnumbered, was a sobering experience and reminded me that this is a dangerous business flying and fighting high above the desert. It is nothing to be taken lightly and a day such as today only proves we have a tuff scrap on our hands. Onward and upwards, we shall carry the fight to these dirty Huns none the less and we shall meat out a full measure for their proud intrusion during this African Campaign!

 

 

Edited August 24, 2021 by BladeMeister

[BladeMeister]

Nigel gave it one last effort to make his lass pull up before it was to late!!!

S!Blade<><

[BladeMeister]

I have finally jumped in the TomaHawk MkII for a few hops the last few nights. I really like this plane, she is a dream to fly and pretty rugged. In my last mission I got drag and bagged by the sneaky AI. More pics to come. I switched over from Spares Grid Antitaliasing 2x Super Sampling and I think the in game quality is much better.

 

S!Blade<><

 

 

 

 

 

[BladeMeister]

I am really enjoying the Kittyhawk and the Tomahawk now that I am logging some stick time to get to know each of them. Here are a couple of passes at that Huns in their JU88s as they bomb Gazala Aerodrome, and we try to make them pay for their incursion.

I applied just a touch of blurring to the Kittyhawk in the first pic.

 

First pass, No Bueno!

 

The second pass, Muy Bueno!!!

 

 

 

 

[BladeMeister]

An early morning lone wolf patrol and after downing a Bf109, on the RTB, my Allison cuts out! Dead stick landing in the desert for my lass!

 

S!Blade<><

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[BladeMeister]

H're is a vocabulary of t'rms which one needeth to becometh aquainted with!

1. square or Sqaurer = a fight or fighter.
2. eft = ready
3. scrap = a fight
4. sparrow chirp = at sunrise
5. oi = hey with a slightly to heavy angry emphasis
6. cobber = a friend, sometimes with a sarcastic tone
7. dram = a little bit of something
8. chuffed = annoyed
9. coeqaul = just the same
10. mite = small or a bit
11. fain = happy, glad
12. anon = soon or now
13. base = low
14. yond = that
15. dungeon = handle
16. travelling lamp = the sun
17. wendeth = walk

18. fusty = old

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

I off'r up a quaint AAR of fusty!

 

 

Shakesp're Hast Been Calledeth Up!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hencf'rth and three weeks aft'r me initial des'rt combat in the Kittyhawk, h're i sitteth in mineth owneth new Tomahawk. Those three weeks hadst been hard didst presseth to flyeth s'rties in the Kittyhawk and then traineth in the Tomahawk at which hour things w're sloweth. The Tomahawk is m're pow'rful and flies liketh a prop'r hunteth'r killeth'r. In the right hands the mistress can beest a lethal matcheth. The mistress is a stunning war machine, i meanest, the mistress simply lookeths nasty, liketh the mistress wanteth to picketh a square. With 4x wing mount'd .30 cal machine guns, 2x syncroniz'd .50 cal fuselage mount'd machine guns, heavy armament round the engine and the cockpit, this lass is eft f'r a scrap with the des'rt huns and the macaroni. I didst riseth up at sparrow chirp f'r this m'rnings section patrol and hadst mineth owneth kite's allison warmeth'd up at which hour i didst seeth mineth owneth section leadeth'r and numb'r three walking to their Tomahawks. We couldst only field three Tomahawks as of the present day and mineth owneth lass wast giving problems with the oil pressure switcheth. F'r this reasoneth i hadst mineth owneth section leadeth'r's p'rmission to taketh mineth owneth lass up early to giveth h'r a checkout and then f'rm up with the guv'n'r and his numb'r three once those gents tooketh off.

 

 

“Oi, a damneth payback f'r three weeks hence at which hour the two of thee dust'd me off on me first hopeth!” , i hath said aloud. Then as sooneth as those gents hath reached their Tomahawks i ranneth up me rpms to 2000, releas'd the bindeth'rs ant alloweth those folk to consumeth me dusteth this m'rning cobb'r! Th're is nothing liketh a dram powd'ry des'rt dusty sand settling all ov'r oneself first thing in the m'rning to chap thy chuff'd little arse now is th're mateth! I chuckl'dth to myself as I did dash off down the stripeth in mine own Tomahawk.

 

 

I can't putteth me fing'r on it, but the Tomahawk just hath felt m're rugged, sturdi'r, m'reov'r lethal than the Kittyhawk. Coequal at which hour the und'rcarriage hath raised up, the lady just clunk'd up tight liketh a square'r throwing out his chest! Me lass and I, we' did preparest for a scrap this m'rning mateth!

 

 

As i climb out of Gazla A'rodrome, a quick behold ov'r mine own starboard shouldst'r discloses the still smold'ring fires from lasteth nights raids on tobruk. Those dameth Axis bastards pound tobruk day and night, and the boys on the sand art just holding on by tooth and naileth. Buttoning up mine own cockpit, i did get on with mine own owneth business of circling the airstrip and f'rming up with the section leadeth'r and his numb'r three.

 

 

Just a few moments lat'r and we art f'rming up nice and tight liketh 3 bugs in a rug. T is a mite both'rsome keeping an eye on mine own gauges, keeping an eye on mine own section leadeth'r and keeping a third eye out f'r j'rry! Once mine own lass is trimm'd out to flyeth nice and leveleth t is a piece easi'r, but the dram windeth gusts shall keepeth a chap on his toes regardless.

 

 

T is at each patroleth a mite of a tournament between numb'r three and myself to seeth who is't can flyeth in the tightest f'rmation with the gov'rn'r. This m'rning i has't the steady handeth and n'rves of steel as i clipeth the goven'r's tail while numb'r three buggars his spoteth up. A few to many to drinketh lasteth evening f'r numb'r three in the offic'r's club i bethink. Alloweth not that gent a blinking idiot to thee cousin, that gent is quite cocksure and eft to square with fusty j'rry mind thee. Three is a cracketh shot that gent is! Three hates fusty j'rry! I'm fain the blokes partial to our side!

 

 

Nay anon'r than we crosseth the front line than the goven'r is calling out, "huns ten o'clock base mates!" As each of us turns in to engage, one of the macaroni pilots passes directly ov'r mine own lass, screaming right by and hath passed liketh that gent doesn't has't a careth in the w'rld. I turneth into that gent and findeth mine own way onto his base six. I bethink not that he can spoteth me down h're as that gent flys straight ahead as i climb with haste onto his tail. The goven'r and numb'r three has't already did chase two of the macaroni pilots down base, and as i chaseth this macaroni down base'r i beginneth to spoteth m're and m're of the mafia in the vicinity. We art heavilt outnumb'r'd and this is a square to the death mateth!

 

 

As i closeth on this macaroni pilot, i alloweth mine own chatt'rboxes loose to early. Mine own trac'rs flyeth wildly by his square'r and t seemeth yond gent knoweth yond i am backeth behind him at presenteth. With a slight climbing turneth to his starboard, i feeleth sure that he gaveth a quick behold ov'r his shouldst'r and that gent knoweth f'r c'rtain yond i am h're. He pulls his controleth column m're f'rcefully to his starboard anon as i alloweth loose anoth'r burst from mine own chatt'rboxes! If 't be true that gent dives off to his starboard side i shall clobb'r that him. If 't be true he continues to climb i shall has't only a precious few moments to alloweth loose anoth'r squirt and tryeth to maketh that gent diveth.

 

 

I alloweth mine own chatt'rboxes loose with yet anoth'r volly of rounds and i hitteth the square'r on his starboard ail'ron. That gent hast given hence his speedeth and anon i am closing in to clobb'r his plane. He turns belly up to diveth hence and runneth, but i am right on himeth. Suddenly that gent completes a full rolleth, and as i followeth, with a quick behold ov'r mine own shouldst'r, i spoteth anoth'r macaroni on mine own tail! These macaroni pilots art trying to setteth me up to killeth me by pulling thy wool ov'r mine own eyes!

 

 

I pursue a harsh'r starboard turneth and the buggar on mine own tail ov'rshoots mine own lass! That gent cameth withinh a breath of having me f'r breakfast! As he hastily hath passed by mine own lass, i dove to the deck and anon wast ov'r the medit'rainian hurtling 'long at 400 mph.

 

 

As i cometh 'round to mine own p'rt wing i spoteth yet anoth'r of the mafia down base. I beginneth to climb and pursue that gent as i am momentarily mesm'riz'd by the beauty of the deep blue wat'r coloreth of the medit'rainin. T oft amazes me at the things yond capture mine own mind coequal at which hour i am hurtling 'long at 400 mph while involv'd in combat. I shaketh mine own headeth apace to cleareth mine own senses f'r this mind wand'ring is ill advise as one shall not seeth the completeth picture, and coequal in this split second i couldst beest clobb'r'd by the one i nev'r did seeeth. Liketh the macaroni pilot yond hadst his eye on me from high above at this v'ry moment. Mine own Tomahawk stoodeth out 'gainst the beauty of the blue wat'r as that gent did roll ov'r and beganeth his diving attacketh in pursuit of me!

 

 

I climbeth to 500 feet above the macaroni whom i am chasing. I believeth not that gent kneweth i wast th're and coming f'r him! I did start a sloweth diveth as we clear'd the delightful me'd coast and cameth ov'r the drab sands of the des'rt. Only a few green fields w're to beest hath found in some of the base areas 'long the coast. Oth'rwise the landeth is a vast drab and curs'd des'rt spanning as far as the eye can seeth. Just as i fir'd mine own first burst this bastard did roll belly up and dove hence!

 

 

Then from out of nay wh're. Trac'rs didst fly past all 'round me!

 

 

Timeth stoodeth still as i gazed upon each crisp of smoketh as t streak past mine own cockpit! I did see the hot yellow ends of the trac'r rounds as those littleth gents did speed hence forth from me!

 

 

I hath continued to unleash mine own chatt'rboxes wildly at the macaroni pilot diving hence!

 

 

Mine own en'rgy dwindl'd as i kneweth mine own pursu'r wast hastily ov'rtaking me, yet not one round hadst assault'd mine own lass!

 

 

I srtuggled'd to leveleth mine own wings as i did prepare f'r the w'rst, but the rounds ceased coming as i didst approach the top of mine own climb. F'r an instant i bethought i hadst did survive this macaroni's assault. Then a loud cracketh, a ripping soundeth, a catastrophic series of events hadst instantly been setteth in motion!

 

 

In a split second, off mine own p'rt wing, i hadst seen a macaroni square'r exchange greetings between his wingtip and mine owneth wingtip. An unfriendly exchange, liketh to f'rm'r warri'rs pitting their stance 'gainst one anoth'r. One wilt giveth way, but in a m're instant t wast apparent yond neith'r wouldst claimeth vict'ry on this day!

 

 

Owing to being only 1000 feet above the des'rt flo'r i did throw the canopy glass backeth, popp'd mine own harness and did roll out of mine own sev'rely wound'd Tomahawk. F'r just a moment i wast able to seeth yond one half of mine own p'rt wing hadst been sev'r'd in the collision. As i didst gazeth on, mineth owneth lass screameth h'r dying song as the mistress didst raceth towrds h'r death in the des'rt below!

 

 

I gaveth a grant of thanks and mercy yond i hadst the f'rethought to glueth mine own offic'rs cap to mine own headeth using contact cement the evening bef're. As i gaveth mine own parachute dudgeon a pulleth i wast snatchethed skyward and ev'rything slow'd to a crawleth.

 

 

As the ground did rush up to greeteth me, i witness'd mine own lass explodeth into the des'rt with a thund'rous moaneth!

 

 

I wast afeard f'r a moment tha i might landeth in the fi'ry fireth of mine own lass's crasheth, but this wast not to beest. I didst landeth harshly and rolledeth through the grit of the sandy des'rt flo'r as mine own chute but softly did lie ov'r.

 

 

I didst hurry to mine own feet and releas'd the harness which in turneth releas'd mine own chute fromest me. I wond'r'd how mine own mates hadst far'd as i did survey the des'rt 'round me. Placing the travelling lamp gen'rally to mine own front, i didst starteth walking and wond'r'd how far i wouldst hast't to wendeth bef're being picketh'd up.

 

 

 

So endeth the second s'rtie of Pilot Offic'r Shakesp're!

 

S!Blade<><

[RAAF492SQNOz_Steve]

Alas, poor Shakesp're! I knew him afore the witches burneth his britches and hath endeth his mortal worlde tyme

Edited October 10, 2021 by RAAF492SQNOz_Steve
Typo?

[BladeMeister]

Another of my first videos, Crude and it is what it is.

 

S!Blade<><

 

 

[BladeMeister]

A dynamic career over The Channel and Southeast England in a G50? I actually have 1 kill against a Spitty in 2 missions. It is pretty tough in this relatively slow and quite overwhelmingly under armed fighter. Ah but the fresh air! It is so worth it!

 

S!Blade<><

 

Combat Patrol somewhere over Southern England. Am I lost?

 

It is not wise to chase a Spitty over a British Aerodrome, although the AA does look incredible coming up at you and the sound sample mastering of the AA guns is positively the BEST.

 

 

Getting a few hits in on a willy RAF pilot who is looking in his mirror and trying to sort out what this strange little fighter  whom is pinging away at his Spitty with two BB guns is.

 

 

The next thing I know a Bf109 crashes the party in a spectacularly reckless manner! "Hey, I had this situation under control Jerry!!!, I shouted at the egotistical hun."

 

 

As I pulled up to gain a bit of altitude to see where this fracas was headed, I suddenly see tracers scream past the starboard side of my cockpit and I know that Tommy's wing man is laboring to repay me the favor which I extended to his leader!

 

 

I roll hard to my port side and dive away over some unknown English metropolis!

 

Plunging away to the wave tops I make my hasty retreat while it is still possible for me to do so.

 

 

 

Edited November 13, 2021 by BladeMeister