Enjoying the excellent weather at this resort like oplace I thought to myself - why haven't I've travelled to this part of the world before? The answer, of course, was with the unskilled aristocracy which led the proud German army into a war that could not be won. Too hell with those bastards; this time is ours!
At any rate, the duty of a German pilot is not to be neglected! After having eaten a light breakfast with my trusty CO Badger, a most skilled tactician and excellent dogfighter, he briefed me that intel thought the allieds would try to invade the islands on whcich we were based. This, I thought, could not be allowed to happen! We have a duty to the people here, to show them the way of the light. Our Italian brothers need our help, and help them, by God, we would.
A little later we were formed up, six of us in the new FW190A5 fighters. Admittedly, they were showing wear and tear, and my personal aircraft had several patches from an earlier encounter with a Spitfire. The favour, of course, was returned.
After takeoff, we were directed by ground control to gain altitude, and then vecotred towards the enemy. Our mission: to destroy the bombers. 109s and Macchis were to provide cover. Unfortunately, there must have been some sabotage; we never met the bombers and instead found high Spitfires screaming down rfom the skies. Mein Gott, there were many of themn; all higher than us. Of our two scouts, one had already been shot down and the other joined our formation just prior to the engagement.
These Spitfires, undoubtely recognizing that they were up against better pilots, were very careful. Some didn't even dare to drop their nose for a pass! My 190 was sluggish and unresponsive at this altitude, and the Spits, kept dragging the fight up higher, as to prolong the inevitable.
Quickly, my patience wore thin. Spotting low bogeys I asked for permission to check it out; what I saw was three low Spitfires engaging 190A8's from SG4. My friends Kirin and mose fly in that unit, and the audacity of the invaders made my determination all the more full.
Screaming in, almost at compression, I spotted two Spits closing in on one 190's six. Quickly I was in gun range; unfortunately, I managed only to directly shoot one Spit down, the other broke hard up into a high g upwards turn, damaged but not disabled. Bleeding my excess energy in a hard immelman, I saw one Spit shoot off fragments of another 190's wing, and I believe I saw a bit of the gear depart from the wounded 190.
The Spit easily outturned me for one turn, but didn't expect me to waste e on a hard reversal, and was subsequently caught heading not head to head, but away from me. And at low speed. The rounds from my cannons disintegrated the poor Spit. There was no chute from the plane, just as there was no chute from the first plane I downed. A quick thought passed through my mind; these were people I would have shared some beers with, had it not been for the godforsaken war. That madman in control took away most of the love of flying I had. But first and foremost I am an officer, and as such I have a duty. Quickly, I shook the thought away, and reported to my CO that I was low on fuel and heading back to base.
Due to the utter confusion, I took off alone again. Spotting my Italian friends and 2 B26's making bombing runs, I assisted in the destruction of one. The second one proved to be more difficult; the pilot was jinking wildly doing what he could to get his gun to bear on me. It was futile; a few rounds penetrated my fuselage, but the response from my four 20mm's made the fight an unequal one. I think I saw one chute, but am not sure.
I landed, only to find my quarters hit by an allied bomb. My imported beer was likely destroyed I knew, and our squad had suffered some losses; Badger had bought the farm trying to land his stricken wingless 190, only to have the remaining gear collapse. he's injured and crippled, but alive. One scout also was hit. At least I counted four suqad kills, plus my three; we made them pay for their intrusion.
At this rate, however, things do not look good. Tomorrow; we fly again, and again the Spits and bombers shall be back.
Heh was great fun <S!>
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StSanta
9./JG 54 "Grünherz"
