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And we ain't talking 'bout no Nitanny Lion Land
Well, another battle has been waged in the AW skies in the never-ending struggle for domination of the cyber world. This time, the US 8th Air Force has been mounting strategic bombing attacks against the LuftWaffe's home turf. The hope has been to deplete LW ranks while damaging the industrial potential of their masters - you know, more of the same old same old.
Except, this time, the flight model is the new Ultra Real. The planes have new performance envelopes to lick. Some give them the stamp of approval, while others want to cancel them and return to sender. Whatever anyone's personal opinion of Ultra Real, the fight was ON.
I missed frames one, where the victory points ended up tied, with a slight edge to the US forces in air to air combat. In frame two, which I also missed, the LW came up hard and scored against an understrength US attack force, putting them into the lead. Then came frame three, and I was there. We kicked butt! (Ok, I probably didn't really have a LOT to do with that ).
It was the best of times . . .
| BELOW: The form-up and trip across the channel was quiet, and all the bombers made it to target. I had a bird's eye view of the strike, and was quite happy that all the flak was aimed at the bombers and NOT me!.
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BELOW: Although trade was light, some FW 190's did try to hit the bombers as they formed up for egress, so it was off to work I went! |
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| BELOW: I hope Lilly Marlene isn't waiting for this son of the Fatherland. |
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It was the worst of times . . .
| After a brief battle things were quiet again. Too quiet. I hung out with the stragglers at the tail end of the formation, then headed off to the east to check for any incoming bandits. I found some. I found lots. I found too many. They found me.
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LEFT: Hmm, lotsa dots, wonder who they are?
BELOW: A look at the map tells me I GOT TROUBLE! Fifteen UNfriendlies nearby, and the friendlies are FAR away!
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| RIGHT: Something about the Ultra Real flight models that needs remembering. The FW190a8 can outclimb a P51 at any alt. At ANY alt. My intentions were to harass these guys, maybe get a lucky shot or two in, and get them pointed away from the bomber stream. Then I'd head for the deck and make a run for Old Blighty in time for Tea. That was my job. That was my plan. That was my mistake. The FW190 I'd just made duck his head lower came climbing back up on my tail like a rocket and the rest, including me, was history. |
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