The air was crisp and clear, a perfect day for flying. I walked out onto the tarmac, my P47D-30 gleaned in the mid morning sun.
"Just taking her out for a short hop across the Baltic Sea, Frank. Load'er up with 50% fuel and a 75 gallon droptank" I said to my crew chief. "Aye-Aye Captain" he replied.
The aircraft easily slogged through the air as I started my 2500 feet per minute climb towards a friendly base in trouble. Mutiple friendly aircraft could be seen in the air around me. Ah yes, it would be a great day for flying.
At 7500 feet I leveled off. "Jesus, doesn't this thing go any faster?" I thought to myself as my airspeed indicator seemed pegged at 275mph. Thats when I saw him "*Spshhh* enemy 262 headed towards A5 at 15 to 20k, watch out fellas *spshhh*" I radioed in. The 262 magnificently flew over me at a high rate of speed.
I continued flying straight and level, thinking the 262 would not bother with me. He curved around after extending 10k past me and started his attack run. Still not percieving any danger, I slowly pulled my P47 towards him, droptanks still attached, wep not engaged. That was all that was needed. He zoom climbed up and away. "Yes, you certainly are a tricky one arent you..." I said silently to myself as I resumed a course to save my comrades (bishops).
"Check 6! Check 6!" I heard as I simultaneously looked back over my shoulder. The 262 was once again approaching me from the rear. "Alright Toko-Mojo, if you want some trouble, you got it!" The 262 approached at a moderate speed, perhaps low on fuel or just low on energy. At about 2.0k, he veered slightly off course as to not engage me head-on. It was too late, I was crazy from all the ephedrine I took (real pilots take it so I figure I should too). I was already at full war-emergency-power, so I fired all eight 50 caliber machine guns at this guy. *Flash flash flash flash flash flash flash*. He lit up like a ford pinto hit from the rear. Both engines were trailing plumes of hideously black smoke. The crippled 262 rushed past me towards a freshly captured base.
I dropped my external tank and gave chase. The AA fire from the enemy cv was horrendous. All I could see on either side of me were yellow tracers. *BANG* My right aileron dissappeared in a blinding flash. No way was I letting this guy get away. He was already on final approach to the runway. My airpseed was nearly 500mph, my plane gently shaking from compression. 200 yards before he was to touch down, I made my gun pass. RATATATATATATATAT. "Dang, missed!" I screamed as I pulled back on the stick. But my attack had worked. He had gotten scared and was now losing control of his aircraft. But he regained control and set it down on the grass, coasting to the tarmac in front of a hangar.
"Tell my wife I love her!" I yelled into the radio as I did a beautiful wing over in my P47. There he was, gently coasting on the brown tarmac, and here I was- in a screaming 90 degree dive firing 6000 rounds per minute. *Flash flash flash flash flash flash flash* His plane broke in half and the wings tore off miliseconds before it exploded. My situation was perilous now. I was at less than 50 feet at 500mph in a 90degree dive. So my plane smashed into the ground and exploded and I died.