Wiek: 57 Dołączył: 28 Mar 2007 Posty: 67 Skąd: Yorkshire, England
Wysłany: Sro Lis 04, 2009 12:45 am
A/C: PZL P.11c
Shock news today that the Nazis have invaded our beloved homeland!
We were placed on high-alert and told to expect an imminent attack. Our aircraft were quickly loaded, the armorers insisting on belting the guns with only armor- piercing and incendiary rounds - the idea being that tracers would give you away once you commence firing - assuming you have managed to pounce on an unsuspecting enemy.
We need every little advantage we can devise. We don't know what to expect - but we know the Germans have more modern aircraft than us and vastly out-number our small airforce. Will we be able to give a good account of ourselves? I feel a mixture of intense anger, fear and excitement.
When the word to scramble came from headquarters only myself and 3 comrades were able to take to the air from our field north of Warsaw. We climbed quickly to 5000m and circled wondering which direction we ought to head.
Soon enough though someone radioed contacts sighted and we vectored towards them. I spotted four cons in loose formation off my 10 o'clock gradually getting bigger as we closed the distance. They could only be the enemy!
It all seemed so sureal at first - like I was in some kind of weird simulation of reality - a game even.
With startlingly rapidity one of the dots magnified itself into an aircraft seemingly filling my screen - it was one of those dreaded low-wing Messerschmidt fighters, coming at me head-on. It passed underneath before I had time to react or even think. Then my training took over, and I swung my P.11 round in a tight turn...
soon I was shooting at the hated enemy and from the excited exclamations over the radio, my comrades were similarly engaged.
The fight didn't last long, those Germans were good, I grudgingly had to admit - and so fast! I couldn't seem to get close enough for my rounds to score any visible damage on my targets. I became separated from my comrades and soon I was on the receiving end of the fight. My aircraft was hit, the engine and fuel tank damaged. I managed to disengage but was hopelessly disoriented. Eventually I spotted one of our airfields and headed towards it. My plight was noticed by the enemy and I was chased and attacked again. This time my engine was completely knocked out but I managed to make a dead-stick landing and put down about 2km from the 'drome. That was a close thing!
I climbed out of the aircraft with alacrity - worried about possible fire - but remembering to take my parachute. As I walked towards the airfield I watched the swirling con-trails above. Good luck my brave comrades! I was itching to be back in the fight, but much to my chagrin there were no spare aircraft available when I reached the field. I could only watch from there as a mere spectator for the rest of that afternoon...
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