I wound up bailing out tonight over A199. Rummaged around on the field a while dodging FLAKs and making my way from cover to cover. I took refuge in a FH in hopes of shooting an unsuspecting pilot trying to take off. After hearing the FLAKs engines fire up and head my way, I booked down the hangar row until they stopped. I peered around the corner and made a mad dash for the southwest rearm pad. Upon reaching the pad, I observed a Lala Mc7 take the runway when I heard a voice. It was Hitech. He says "Remember, if you shoot the pilot twice...it should kill the airplane. The first hit wounds him and the second kills him!"
Now it's a prophecy and I am on a mission from god the likes has not been seen since Elwood and Jake Blues. I stand at attention, prepared to fire on any airplane ready to take the runway. Next thing you know, an La7 ups. I fire twice, scoring two hits. The pilot aborts his takeoff so I have only hit him once. I stand fast, awaiting the next victim. A C-205 takes the runway, I take careful aim and cut loose. BOOM! An exlposion rocks the ground, I have scored a kill. Six victims later, I expend my last round and have gone through all three magazines of .45 caliber ammunition.
I fall back to the rearm pad to await rescue, but the area is so hot a PBY cannot drop in to take me back to base to land my now total of 7 kills. The submarine was hit by depth charges en route. My squadmates cannot land, and wish me luck over my survival radio. I don't even have a round left for my pistol, so I have to bludgen myself to death much like the monty python twit of the year race. Sad. Yet glad.
