Some of you are amazinhunk's and some not.
Laz i never flew a tempest.
Most are vocal morons who know nothing of real flying but think your gods of aviation.
Undeveloped literary skills? From posting in a forum? I probably read more books than you can count.
I wrote this story and entered it in Luftwaffe Writers contest for Classic Publicataions. See if my literary skills are undeveloped now. What yall don't know is when IL-2 is succesfull Oleg might turn it into a MP sim. People close to Oleg have told me this, true or not if it does happen this game will realy do down in flames.
Peter Di Maria
The Coldest Winter
The story of a young pilot’s loyalty to his country and the love for his family
December 1944, Ardennes Region on French-German border
What a time to enter a war. It feels like the coldest winter yet, ever since I could remember. I’m about to throw myself at the huge might of the American. I know the war will be over soon and I wonder if I will end it alive. I just turned eighteen a few days ago on November twenty-fifth and had my choice of joining the infantry or the air force. I remember my father telling me the horror and abomination he experienced when he fought in the army in the First World War. I believed him because he was missing several fingers and half of his left leg. Berlin, my city has been bombed many times since 1943. Several of my friends and relatives died from the bombing but still we pressed on. I feel that with every American plane I shoot down I will save my city and my country from their destruction. I signed up with the German air force as soon as possible on December first. I heard that Hitler has been planning a last great offensive for the sixteenth of December 1944. I wonder if it can stop the allies from entering Germany. New pilots like me are in a deplorable position. There is not enough fuel for training and if I do go up to train, the ever present American lurking around the skies will kill me. I was placed in the 1st Squadron, 2nd Group of Fighter Wing 26. There are nine pilots in a squadron and seven of us were new trainees.
The other six trainees were products of the Hitler Youth Group and were quite mad. The two leaders of the squadron were old experts at the trade and I listened to every word they told us. I do not want to die young. I want to see my family again; I plan to create my own family after the war. That of course if I don’t get killed or my future bride does not also. My first flights are going well. Our squadron moved to a remote sector of the front so we can train with less danger. I now have about forty hour’s flying time in an old Messerschmitt 109 fighter. Some of the expert pilots were getting the brand new jets to fly! I’m stuck with this old piece of crap. Oh well it can still fly and the two experts were using them with deadly precision. The December sixteenth deadline is quite near and I’m nervous. Will I survive my first mission or sent on my final flight of oblivion? The odds are against me but I still will fight for my country.
The weather is worse today than usual so flying is even more difficult. Our 109’s are loaded with 500kg bombs. Our mission is to clear the opposition in front of the German army in order to allow a clean penetration of the allied lines. We must locate the 99th Infantry Division and attempt to reduce their strength.
We must destroy at least sixty percent of the division in order for the penetration to proceed successfully. I climb in the cockpit and our flight is ready to go. Take off is a bit scary, some ice formed up on the runway and light snowfall did not help at all. I barely got off the ground and two of them crashed and exploded as they took off. Now there are seven of us and I think I’m next. We’re now over the front and I can barely see the American division below and to my left. I put my plane in a dive and the seven of us start to descend. The anti-aircraft-fire opens up and another one is down. I’m thinking I’m next, I’m next, I’m going to die! The ground is rushing towards me and I see the Americans running all over for cover. I soon feel a warm sensation in my pants. I’m so nervous and I’m drenched in sweat. After I drop the bombs I feel relived. I have done my job and survived. I look behind me and see the bombs exploding on the Americans. One of the fools, Alfred flies too low and gets caught in the bomb blast. His wings fell apart and he didn’t have time to bail out. Hans warned us about this and told us not to fly low when we bomb. Six left. Two good things, there are no allied planes YET and the two aces are still alive. Hans and Gunther are their names and I’m very fond of them. Had it not been for their teachings and advice I might as well be dead. We head back early and our job for the day is done. I feel proud that I helped the army in beating back the Americans. It’s about ten a.m. now and I’m very tired. I decide that I can sleep a few hours and fly another mission in the afternoon.
The alarm signal goes off, “American fighters approaching in five minutes” blaring on the loud speaker as I scramble to my aircraft, which is being refueled at the time. The fuel truck pulls away too fast, breaking the hose and leaving it stuck in my plane. The driver of the truck goes mad and wheedles the machine, which is leaking, leaking gas all over the place, the runway, the tarmac and most everywhere over the air field! The buzz of the American planes draws nearer and I have to make a quick decision. Try to yank out the hose, jump in my plane and attempt to defend the field in vain, or run away and live another day. I look up and see bombs falling towards my head. I can see the American bomber formation way up there. I decide its best to run and seek cover. As I start to run away the fighters are shooting the field and at my machine. The plane sets ablaze and a huge explosion is followed. My plane and that of the American are engulfed in a whooping tower of flames and debris. I instinctively dive for the ground and roll behind a staff car for cover. I hear a great roar and I’m wondering what the hell it is. I quickly poke my head above the trunk of the car and see a crashed American plane heading towards me. What’s better is that its guns start to fire probably by accident because the pilot had to be dead. I see the keys in the car and the instincts kick in. I fling open the door, start the car and speed out of there before the flaming wreck heads to where I was just hiding. I’m in a state of disbelief now and I continue to drive away as bombs reign down on the base. I’m grateful to God that I’m alive and getting out of here. I think I’m safe but I realize I’m causing myself even more danger. The dark gray car in the clear white snow, leaving tracks behind me is a prime target for an American. I quickly comprehend this but I’m too late. Bullets strike the back of the car and set it ablaze. DAMN! I’m on fire! I open the door, jump out without even thinking and roll over on the wet snow. A great explosion occurs as I lie face down in the snow. I’m stunned and try to struggle to my feet but can’t. I feel pressure on my back, like somebody has dropped a 100-ton weight on me. I’m sure it’s a piece of metal either from aircraft or some other thing I do not know, but I do know I’m in excruciating pain. I use all my strength to try to pull myself up and free my self from the crushing weight. It’s finally off and I drop on my back exhausted and out of breath. Thank God that my legs are not crushed. I lay down on my back and the pain seems to go away. I’m not on fire anymore and all my limbs are intact. Good, I have heard that you don’t realize your missing limbs until shock diminishes. My father didn’t realize he had lost half of his leg until he tried to get up and walk. I lie down and I feel very cold. I don’t know how, I was still hot from the fire and I had 2 layers of wool on. I see a pool of blood saturating the snow that I’m lying down on and yet I’m not alarmed. I can feel nothing expect the gusty wind biting at my face, which does not stay with me for long. I suddenly feel warmth all over my body look up and see the bright sun above me. The weather must have cleared for a few seconds. I’m overcome with happiness for some reason I have no reason to understand why. Everything seems to be moving so slowly. The bombs that normally fall down very fast, I can almost count each one and see each bomb hit the ground. I feel very strange like something is leaving me.
I’m I dying? I’m I ascending into heaven? I turn my head and see the base on fire, I see explosions and men dying all around me yet I hear nothing. Did the war stop? I see men dying over and over, machines being mauled and I can’t weigh what’s happening. I can’t hear anything. Still men die but I cannot hear their pain. I’m dying? I keep asking myself. I look back up at the great blue sky and see the gentle, beautiful snowflakes ascending down on me. I try to catch them but I can’t seem to make my right arm move and my left arm is clutching something. What is this? I move it towards my face, open my hand and see it’s a picture of my family. I had put it in my pocket before the flight and must have grabbed in the haste to find safety. I look at it and smile and start to think of my childhood and all the good memories of my life.
Death and destruction seem so far away, but it’s all to close. I’m not thinking about it tough, I’m looking at my family. I can now hear the faint screams of men dying in the distance and it’s getting louder and louder. I clutch the picture in my left hand and try not to hear the men dying. I’m startled by the sound of a plane flying overhead. I look back at the base and the screaming is louder still. A gas truck explodes sending a jolt through the ground and into my body. I see Han’s plane on fire as he slowly spirals towards the ground while being shot at. I’m thrust back into reality and I start to panic. My blood is all over the place but I can’t move. There are at least four ambulances on the base but I cannot see them. The few medics that we did have at the base are probably hiding. Two of the trucks emerge from the shelter with the departing of the Americans.
I signal to the medics with my left arm by waving it in the air. I’m so cold now I start to shiver. I decide I want to die right now. I have seen enough war in the short time that I have been in it. I hear the approaching sirens and I must act now. I reach for my sidearm in left pocket strap. I hold the pistol to my head and pull the trigger. Click - the gun does not fire. It’s jammed or something is wrong with it. I quickly try to fix it but this is hard with one hand. I then feel a strong kick in my right hand and the gun goes flying into the air. The medics have arrived and start to treat me. I try to refuse by my chard cloths and bloody body makes their actions justifiable. They inject a needle in my leg and I feel a warm calm sensation. Something like a cigarette but stronger. I suspect morphine. I’m in the ambulance now and feeling calm. I think what will happen to me in the next few days and years. I will probably end the war alive or dead. But not in a bloody fight to the end, not in triumph and tragedy but in a pathetic hospital bed. The medic glances at at my left hand that is tightly holding something. He takes the picture out of my hand and holds it up for me to see. I start to cry and realize that I almost killed myself and they wouldn’t see me again.
[ 07-15-2001: Message edited by: pdog_109 ]
