Noises on the other side of the wall. . .
"Psst!!"
"PSSTT!!"
"Who's there??" It's one of my squadies. Oh thank God!
"It's Ouch. Are the CO and my crew chief still out there??"
"Jesus, Ouch, what the hell did you do to them? Pee in their wheaties? I haven't seen Chief Joseph this mad since someone spiked the enlisted mens bug juice just before that big raid?
"That was not me. No one saw me. Can't prove it. So their still out there. Damn. And today started off so well."
"And theres also some kniggit pilot out there limping around looking for you. What gives??"
"Sigh. Ok, fine. But it's not my fault. At least not all of it."
. . .
You know I've been convalescing for the last 5 months, so I've been a bit rusty. Today I decided I needed to work on my BnZ, so I requesitioned a FW. Not that wimpy D9 thing, but the A8. With big honking cannons.
My first flight was going well. I had managed to ambush about 3 or 4 Rooks when I noticed I was getting a little low on fuel. And the nearest air field was 2 sectors away.
Not a problem I think, and turn for home. About half way there, I realize that it is DEFINATELY a problem. Anyway, I manage to nurse my plane all the way back to the nearest field. I would have even had enough fuel left for a liesurly landing if it hadn't been for that LaLa that tried to ambush me just short of the field.
I manage to get back up to 4.5K (the alt of the field) at the same time my engine went "putputpu. . . . . ". No way to make this pretty, so I just put the plane on the ground, in several pieces next to the runway. Right in front of Chief Joseph. He was, shall I say, not amused. No matter, I walked away from the landing, got another plane (with more fuel) and took off again.
The second one wan't my fault. I was damn lucky to get the plane back to the field with half a wing shot off. The unlucky part was it ended up on the other side of the runway from Chief Joseph who was still trying to see what he could salvage from my first plane.
When I crawled out of the plane, I noticed that he had one of those looks on his face, and a rather large spanner in his hand. Rather quickly I moved to another FW that happened to be warming up on the edge of the runway. It's pilot wasn't looking, so I "Tanya Hardinged" him from behind with the chocks and took off with his plane.
After a highly successfull mission (meaning I didn't even get hit) I tried to land this FW. The idiot pilot who's plane it was didn't bother telling me that one of the tires was a little low on pressure. I hit the runway kinda hard, blowing the tire. I managed to get the wreckage off the runway before it stopped moving. Unfortunately, the COs jeep was what finally stopped the planes foward momentum.
With the CO screaming at me from under the left wing, I figured I'd better get out of there quickly. One more FW had arrived in the shipment this morning, and no one else had claimed it. I grabbed it and ran.
I shouldn't have bothered. I got into a Friendly Fire incident with a PT boad just off shore, which cost me my oil pan. Now I was without much oil, at 200 feet, with the nearest landing strip at 4.5K.
As I crawled out of that cockpit, I see the CO finally getting helped out from under my last plane, Chief Joseph running towards me with the spanner, and some other pilot limping along behind him, I ran into the closest building I could find. The O'Club.
. . .
"So, no you have not seen me. And could you get Sherry or LadyHawke to bring a bottle of tequilla to the back stall in the womens restroom. I'm just hoping they don't think to search in here."
Final score:
Kills: 4
Ditches within 10 feet of the runway: 4
Not my best night.
Ouch out
