So the Bishops managed to get a foothold on the Rooke mainland yesterday and we managed to stop their advance and even start getting some airplanes over their newly-won airfields when suddenly one of our recon planes cries out that a large mass of Bishop P-51Ds just upped from across the water.
Being the "Tier Two" plane fan that I am, with thousands of perk points burning a hole in my pocket, I up a 262 and begin my climb to 25k.
I'm over our beseiged airfield at 25k alt when I spot the first trickle of the stream.... 5,000 feet above me!
There must've been 25 or more of those little silver darters in a big cloud, schooling in tight like baitfish. They looked absolutely beautiful and horrible at the same time. I could almost hear the excited radio chatter going on as they dreamed dreams of bringing fire and brimstone to Rookland. But I was an evil jet pilot, and I would stop them.
A couple of other Rooks also brought 262s, and a few more were climbing up with 109-G10s. And the feeding frenzy was on!
I closed the range at a slight climb on the nearest 51 and opened up at 800 out. Surprisingly, my first few shells landed and he fell to pieces. Maybe because I was below him, he never saw me but I'm surprised the other two 51s to his left and right didn't warn him.
I ambled up behind another one and he rolled out and down. I let him go down where the other Rooks could reach him and continued on my way to the next one in the formation. He rolled out and down as well, then surprisingly circled back and up behind me. Maybe he thought he could catch me or something. Anyway, I just moved forward to the next 51. And killed it at d500.
By now the other Rooks had begun feeding on the bait ball and I had 3 Mustangs trailing me. I wasn't sure if they were actually trying to chase me or if I happened to be heading towards their target, but it seemed like the mass had broken up into 2 smaller groups heading who knows where and a larger group concentrating on our airfield.
I started circling back around to make a run on the larger group and closed the distance on a pair of Mustangs. I had some Rooks below me so I made a run on the 'stangs, thinking that even if I missed the approach I wouldn't have to worry too much about the Mustangs engaging me. They tried to go evasive at 30+k but their planes just sort of wallowed a bit like Charlie Sheen on a Friday night. Then they rolled out and down...into the clutches of the Rooks below.
Right about then a couple of Rooks who were late to the party started asking where all the Bishops had gone. I checked the darbar and sure enough, the baitball had been decimated.
With the threat gone, I figured I'd spiral down to the embattled airfield and land my kills. I calculated my approach and lined up with the runway, flying the numbers on what I thought was the perfect landing configuration. Well, as I got closer I could see the hangars but not the runway. Then I realized that something was wrong - the hangars were all askew. I climbed up a bit and realized I was off too far to one side and making a perfect approach for a fuel bunker. Oops! Full throttle, try for a go around. The last time I flew a 262 I overshot the runway and tried for a go-around, only to end up lodged on the side of a mountain with two broken main gear stubs. Going around isn't a skill I've mastered in the 262. I decided that maybe I could put her in the grass and roll it on to the runway.
Nose high, main gear contact, back off the throttle, gently ease the front wheel down, full flaps, zero throttle, easy on the brakes, use the rudder to get back on the runway and wait for the ride to come to a full and complete stop. I'm parked just right. Whew! That's the first time I've actually managed to land kills in a jet. What a rush!
I think Aces High needs to bring the F-86 and MiG-15 to the Main Arena!
