You're flying along with your wingman at 15,000 feet when you hear him call: "Bandits, 3 o'clock high!" What? Where? You can't see a thing. There they are! A pair of Spitfires. Tracer fire flashes past the canopy. You hear rounds hitting the fuselage. Your wingman calls "Break right, I'm on him." If he doesn't hurry you'll have to swim home. Then he calls: "Two more on my six!" Now what?Ok, instead you're in a group of B-17s lining up on the bomb run when Focke-Wulf 190s appear out of nowhere and your escort never joined up. One of the enemy fighters makes a head on pass. BLAM! Engine three is out, the top turret gunner is dead, and you've lost rudder control. You start to drop out of formation and head for home. Listening to the radio chatter of the rest of the formation, you start to consider yourself the lucky one. The lead bomber radios good luck, you're on your own now. Then one of those Focke-Wulf 190’s notices you falling out of formation ………
"It is when you become good that you start to understand the game in a whole new light. When I fight someone really good it is an experience that is orders of magnitude more then what I could get out of the gamewhen I was new at it. It stops being about dying or living, it is about the beauty of the moves, it's a friggin balet. And when one of you dies, you are dissapointed regardless of who won; you wish it went onjust a little bit longer. You become one with your opponent, and he becomes a partner, you are reacting to each other's moves like old lovers, and you know after it is over that each of you exactly knew what the other one thought throughout the fight. When you get there, all the effort you putinto it will seem easily worth it."Mili "Flying Pigs"
