Excalibur Squadron OOC Thread

[The Two Jerseys]

The Vulcan is good looking, especially for a bomber. However the Spitfire is simply in a class of it's own when it comes to looks.

The early marks, yeah. Especially the Mark IX. After that though, you get the tear drop canopies, griffon engines, shark tail fins and clipped wings. For me, the Spitfire becomes much less good looking after the Mark IX.

The Lancaster (we're pretending the 300 or so Lancs with Bristol Hercules' didn't exist here), now there's a good looking aeroplane.

I actually like the look of the Griffon-engined Spits. Aside from the clipped/extended wings, those are just wrong.

And if we're talking good-looking bombers, the B-47 wins.

[Calizorinstan]

Oh yeah. The B-47...

I also adore the B-58, but I may be biased as one of my great uncles flew the B-58...

[United Kingdom of Poland]

ah the Mig-29, say what you want about the russians but they make some beautiful planes.

Meh. It's alright but few planes compare to the Spitfire in terms of looks.

meh, to girly, it doesn't look like it belongs in a dogfight (and with the original armorment it really didn't belong)
but then again I generaly go for functionality over looks.

[Goram]

Meh. It's alright but few planes compare to the Spitfire in terms of looks.

meh, to girly, it doesn't look like it belongs in a dogfight (and with the original armorment it really didn't belong)
but then again I generaly go for functionality over looks.

What do you mean, with the original armament it didn't really belong?

Eight rifle calibre machine guns were perfectly capable of knocking down enemy aircraft; especially fighters. Besides the only cannon Britain had access to, Hispano HS.404s, had issues with jamming at the time. Pilots, including Douglas Bader, hated them and advocated for machine guns.

[Goram]

Part III, for you Tiger.

[United Kingdom of Poland]

meh, to girly, it doesn't look like it belongs in a dogfight (and with the original armorment it really didn't belong)
but then again I generaly go for functionality over looks.

What do you mean, with the original armament it didn't really belong?

Eight rifle calibre machine guns were perfectly capable of knocking down enemy aircraft; especially fighters. Besides the only cannon Britain had access to, Hispano HS.404s, had issues with jamming at the time. Pilots, including Douglas Bader, hated them and advocated for machine guns.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BpTrygZfC-g this seems to say otherwise (skip to 11 minutes to see the comparison test)

[The Tiger Kingdom]

Meh. It's alright but few planes compare to the Spitfire in terms of looks.

meh, to girly, it doesn't look like it belongs in a dogfight (and with the original armorment it really didn't belong)

"Too girly"? Really? Really. Them's fighting words.
The Spitfire is the apex of dashing toughness, one of the most (if not the most) heroic looking aircraft ever. I can hardly think of something less "girly".

As to armament...

What do you mean, with the original armament it didn't really belong?

Eight rifle calibre machine guns were perfectly capable of knocking down enemy aircraft; especially fighters. Besides the only cannon Britain had access to, Hispano HS.404s, had issues with jamming at the time. Pilots, including Douglas Bader, hated them and advocated for machine guns.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BpTrygZfC-g this seems to say otherwise (skip to 11 minutes to see the comparison test)

No way in hell. This "documentary" makes it sound like a Spitfire shooting down a 109 was a near impossibility...which it obviously wasn't. Eight of those guns firing in unison and hitting a 109 would be devastating. There's more to a plane than hunks of armor, you know - the pilot, electrical equipment, the engines, the wings (which I'd wager are quite a bit thinner than the sheet of plate they were using there)...

If the Spitfire was so weapon-underpowered, what, did all those 109s just crash due to pilot error or something?
The 109 had far fewer guns, and the cannons it had, while they were powerful, were unwieldy and had barely any ammo to use.

I've actually seen that documentary before, and it was one of the ones that caused me to basically give up on History Channel stuff as even remotely realistic - they were just trying to make the Spit and the 109 look more equal than they were to make it more interesting.

If I sound pissy here, I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at that stupid doc.

[United Kingdom of Poland]

meh, to girly, it doesn't look like it belongs in a dogfight (and with the original armorment it really didn't belong)

"Too girly"? Really? Really. Them's fighting words.
The Spitfire is the apex of dashing toughness, one of the most (if not the most) heroic looking aircraft ever. I can hardly think of something less "girly".

As to armament...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BpTrygZfC-g this seems to say otherwise (skip to 11 minutes to see the comparison test)

No way in hell. This "documentary" makes it sound like a Spitfire shooting down a 109 was a near impossibility...which it obviously wasn't. Eight of those guns firing in unison and hitting a 109 would be devastating. There's more to a plane than hunks of armor, you know - the pilot, electrical equipment, the engines, the wings (which I'd wager are quite a bit thinner than the sheet of plate they were using there)...

If the Spitfire was so weapon-underpowered, what, did all those 109s just crash due to pilot error or something?
The 109 had far fewer guns, and the cannons it had, while they were powerful, were unwieldy and had barely any ammo to use.

I've actually seen that documentary before, and it was one of the ones that caused me to basically give up on History Channel stuff as even remotely realistic - they were just trying to make the Spit and the 109 look more equal than they were to make it more interesting.

If I sound pissy here, I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at that stupid doc.

actually a lot were lost do to pilot error. the 109 was known to be very unfogiving on landings because of its very narrow landing gear. The Germans must have done something right speaking that they have the top ace spots in the war. That and if the Spit was so superior how do you explain the fact that the RAF was losing the Battle of Britian until Goering decided to switch priorities.

[The Tiger Kingdom]

"Too girly"? Really? Really. Them's fighting words.
The Spitfire is the apex of dashing toughness, one of the most (if not the most) heroic looking aircraft ever. I can hardly think of something less "girly".

As to armament...


No way in hell. This "documentary" makes it sound like a Spitfire shooting down a 109 was a near impossibility...which it obviously wasn't. Eight of those guns firing in unison and hitting a 109 would be devastating. There's more to a plane than hunks of armor, you know - the pilot, electrical equipment, the engines, the wings (which I'd wager are quite a bit thinner than the sheet of plate they were using there)...

If the Spitfire was so weapon-underpowered, what, did all those 109s just crash due to pilot error or something?
The 109 had far fewer guns, and the cannons it had, while they were powerful, were unwieldy and had barely any ammo to use.

I've actually seen that documentary before, and it was one of the ones that caused me to basically give up on History Channel stuff as even remotely realistic - they were just trying to make the Spit and the 109 look more equal than they were to make it more interesting.

If I sound pissy here, I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at that stupid doc.

actually a lot were lost do to pilot error. the 109 was known to be very unfogiving on landings because of its very narrow landing gear.

Except I'd wager the vast majority of those crashes, small fraction of overall losses that they were, weren't irreparable, or even necessarily crippling.
That alone isn't the silver bullet, not by a long shot.

The Germans must have done something right speaking that they have the top ace spots in the war. That and if the Spit was so superior how do you explain the fact that the RAF was losing the Battle of Britian until Goering decided to switch priorities.

They had the top ace spots because of good training and the fact they went up against the Soviet Air Force, IE the Air Force with the most planes by far, the least-trained pilots, and overall the lowest quality planes on average. So, hordes of targets. The vast majority of those ludicrous scores were racked up on the Eastern Front.
And the RAF wasn't losing - they were giving as good as they were getting. The fact of the matter was, their Air Force was just smaller and being attacked on their entire southern frontier at once. They were stretched to the limit, but so was the Luftwaffe.
I suggest you read the wiki page here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_ ... _airfields, for a more balanced view. The Luftwaffe might have exhausted the RAF from 24 August to 6th September had they kept the pace up, just like how the 8th Air Force might have crippled Schweinfurt and the entire German mechanization strategy had they kept up the pace. But in both cases, keeping up the pace was impossible, because the Germans/8th Air Force would have annihilated themselves in the process.

[Monfrox]

So I'm a bit confused. Are we all in the briefing room or in the mess hall?

[The balkens]

Briefing room I think.



Well I fucking broke my arm and leg after falling off my bike at 45 miles per hour.

Spent nearly all day in a goddamn hospital AND I missed a date with my girl.


Fuck. My. Life......

[The Two Jerseys]

meh, to girly, it doesn't look like it belongs in a dogfight (and with the original armorment it really didn't belong)

"Too girly"? Really? Really. Them's fighting words.
The Spitfire is the apex of dashing toughness, one of the most (if not the most) heroic looking aircraft ever. I can hardly think of something less "girly".

As to armament...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BpTrygZfC-g this seems to say otherwise (skip to 11 minutes to see the comparison test)

No way in hell. This "documentary" makes it sound like a Spitfire shooting down a 109 was a near impossibility...which it obviously wasn't. Eight of those guns firing in unison and hitting a 109 would be devastating. There's more to a plane than hunks of armor, you know - the pilot, electrical equipment, the engines, the wings (which I'd wager are quite a bit thinner than the sheet of plate they were using there)...

If the Spitfire was so weapon-underpowered, what, did all those 109s just crash due to pilot error or something?
The 109 had far fewer guns, and the cannons it had, while they were powerful, were unwieldy and had barely any ammo to use.

I've actually seen that documentary before, and it was one of the ones that caused me to basically give up on History Channel stuff as even remotely realistic - they were just trying to make the Spit and the 109 look more equal than they were to make it more interesting.

If I sound pissy here, I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at that stupid doc.

"109 may have been as maneuverable as the Spit"? Yes, in the same way that the Sopwith Camel is maneuverable: if it doesn't kill you first.

[Monfrox]

Briefing room I think.



Well I fucking broke my arm and leg after falling off my bike at 45 miles per hour.

Spent nearly all day in a goddamn hospital AND I missed a date with my girl.


Fuck. My. Life......

Sucks to be you. Though I've never broken a bone, so I can't sympathize with how it feels. It must hurt a lot, obviously.

And I need a definite answer.

[The Tiger Kingdom]

So I'm a bit confused. Are we all in the briefing room or in the mess hall?

As it's a bit confused, I'll use my OP powers to rule that it's the briefing room.

Briefing room I think.



Well I fucking broke my arm and leg after falling off my bike at 45 miles per hour.

Spent nearly all day in a goddamn hospital AND I missed a date with my girl.


Fuck. My. Life......

Damn man, I'm sorry. I really hope you get better soon!

[The Tiger Kingdom]

Okay, so here's the deal: I wanted there to be a bit of an interlude with Page to have a little confrontation in the depths of the Illustrious while he was on his way to pick up Stanford. However, as I wrote it, I realized it went on way, way too damn long for a single IC post, so I made it a one-shot, and I'll just put in a link to this in my next actual IC post, which will start right where this leaves off.
So, without further ado:

"The rest of you, take 15 minutes or so to relax, but don't go far. When I get back, the briefing starts. We've lost enough time already.""

At that, Page took his leave of the briefing room as the squadron began to temporarily disperse. Recalling the vague outlines of the carrier's layout, he began to walk to the infirmary, where the runner said Stanford was. It was a long and circuitous walk, but Page didn't particularly mind it, at least at first - getting to stretch your legs after a tense flight was always a pleasure, and he felt the need to unwind before preparing for another briefing session. And this one had the potential to be quite a bit more...personally difficult than the other ones. He had to be ready to steel himself for that, and just storm through it if he had to. Not everything about the job was

As his thoughts drifted this particular way, his hands gradually began shaking slightly, and his stomach felt uncannily like it was tying itself in a knot. At first, he thought it may have been the remnants of the adrenaline from the dogfight, but after a moment, he realized it was coming from somewhere else in his mind. The memory of the dogfight itself? He'd been through worse. Alix's little scare at the end? Just a momentary fright, nothing to get worked up about. He couldn't point to any of those things specifically as the cause of his sudden tension. And yet, there it was, undeniably - he was scared. Badly. And it made no sense.

This had happened to him occasionally since he'd returned from Spain, these illogical bouts of stupid nervousness and self-doubt overtaking him, but not for a long while. He thought he'd left them behind long ago. As he kept pace, his disgust with himself and his idiotic nerves began to well up, fueling his tension even further, creating a vicious cycle in his mind. This is disgraceful. Get a hold of yourself. What the hell do you have to be scared of? You have obligations, dammit.

"Oi! You!"

The loud yell made Page actually jump like a moron. Wincing internally, he turned to face the source of the yell, coming from the hallway behind him. About 20 feet off, head poking out of a hatch, he could see an enraged face leering at him. As the face resolved itself into a man angrily striding towards him, Page realized that the man was looked quite familiar - and had a noticeable bruise on his chin.

"I've got something to settle with you."
Page remembered the name. "You. You're...Connors, right?"
The man nodded vigorously. "Yeah. Flight Sergeant Godfrey Connors. And you're in deep shit. Sir."

Page was torn between a desire to laugh and to just walk away. "Really. Flight Sergeant, do you-"
Connors held up a finger. "Oh no. Not yet. You already embarrassed me enough back on deck the other day. I know you might be the RAF's golden boy on some fucking fool's errand, but you're on my ship now. And you owe me."
The Captain smiled and folded his arms. "Go on."
Connors' voice seemed to accelerate the more and more he spoke, the words tumbling out in a rage. "You let your airman, or airwoman, or whatever punch me in the goddamn face without any damn punishment at all. I can report her for that, and I can report you for that. And I think I will."

"According to her, it was hardly unprovoked. And I saw you standing idle when you clearly should've been helping her." Page's eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation, his nerves still roiling. "And you're in my way, Flight Sergeant. First and last warning. Pack it up and go home before you embarrass yourself any further."

Connors rolled his eyes. "You really think anyone will give a shit? You have to be tough to survive on this boat, and she should just toughen the fuck up and deal with it if it bothers her."
He leaned in and gave Page a shove. His breath reeked of grog. Has he just been drinking all damn night? "Or here's an idea - maybe you should actually get her to put out, eh? That'd be in all of our interests-"

By the time Page was aware of what he was doing, his fist was inbound to its target at what resembled terminal velocity, his body reacting without needing conscious input at all. The blow connected with Connors' gut, and it sent him staggering back, however, the Flight Sergeant also made a blind lash at Page, connecting with the side of his head, sending him reeling slightly as well, his back hitting the other side of the hallway.

The two men looked at each other, each of them with their backs to the hallway walls. In Connors' eyes, Page could see the anger and shock as he clutched at his stomach. Suddenly, he was hit by a wave of pain from the side of his head as his body registered the punch -

It was one of the best feelings he'd ever felt.

The pain cleared his mind. Where only a few moments before he had been nearly crippled with his stupid nerves, now, he felt a marvelous calm settle over him, framed by a fury that was as clear and pure as diamond. It was all so simple, now. He made first contact. He insulted me. And he insulted Alix. End of story. Through these new eyes, he didn't see Connors, now hauling himself to his feet, fists at the ready, as a walking, talking, real person anymore. No, he was more like...a moving bag of bones, ligaments, and muscles to be put out of action as quickly and efficiently as possible. Time seemed to crawl.

Page's body recalled the hand-to-hand training he had received all those years ago at basic, and the refinements he had been taught by his partisan friends in Spain. He had, over the years, established the rudiments of a style that had served him well. He knew he wasn't the fastest fighter, or the toughest, or the strongest, so he had to focus on being as quick and decisive as possible, and hitting the right places. He'd narrowed it down to three main targets, with a few secondaries - knees, elbows, and nose (not quite as fight-winning, but bad for morale to have a broken nose) being the former, and any other joints that manifested themselves as vulnerable coming second. Once one of those joints could be locked and neutralized, the fight was essentially over. He mentally factored in that his opponent was drunk - less coordinated, but likely to be slightly more resistant to pain - and waited for an opening.

He didn't have to wait long. With a grunt, Connors threw himself at Page, swinging with a wild right hook. The Captain simply sidestepped, grabbed the arm, and applied a little more force, letting Connors crash into the wall. As the Flight Sergeant turned back to Page, a cut now visible over his eye, Page realized he had made a mistake - he could've ended it right there, instead of just throwing him around.
Won't make that mistake next time.

Connors was visibly lurching and unstable now - he'd hit the wall fairly hard, he might even have been concussed. Page threw a few light jabs, trying to draw him out. It was child's play, now - Connors was angry, inebriated, and not exactly a born fighter as it was. His face contorted with rage, he threw a few more hugely telegraphed haymakers, nearly toppling over with each one. Page held back for the first few, waiting for the perfect one...and found it.

He let loose with a fast jab to Connors' nose as another haymaker missed, feeling the cartilage give and bend - a possible break. As the Flight Sergeant fell back, Page grabbed Connors' right arm as his arms flailed, locked it in, and applied a familiar amount of pressure to it with all due speed. He could feel the bone give, and Connors let out a pained howl. Page, on a roll now, lashed out with his right leg, sweeping Connors off his feet and landing on his back with a final, humilating thump onto the cold, hard deck.

Everything was utterly silent for a moment. Connors' face was covered in blood, his arm resting at an odd angle. Page stood, looming over him, fists still balled, mind still in the clinical state of detachment that had come over him. Then, slowly (at least, it felt slow), the feeling drained away, and Page was just looking down on a broken, shocked man again. The fury had faded.

"Please...I...I..."
Connors looked up at Page, his face unreadable, his eyes shining. Page knelt next to him.
"I trust we've learned our lesson."
Connors let out a choked gasp that turned into a kind of sob.
Page stood up and dusted himself off. "You were right: you do have to be tough to survive on this ship, Connors. Thanks for the warning. I'll be sure to remember it."
And with that, he strode off. "Here's hoping you do too. I think you'll need to remember it more than me."

At the next hatchway in the hall, he stopped and opened it. It was some sort of administrative office, with a lone man sitting behind a desk, scribbling away.
"There's an injured pilot out in the hallway. He needs medical attention immediately," Page said simply.
The hapless officer was quite confused. "Wait, what? In the hallway, you say? What happened? And who the hell are-"
Page had already shut the door and legged it down the hallway in the opposite direction. Covertly checking his face for signs of blood or any other sort of damage, he was relieved to see that it appeared he was in the clear. Now, back to business. Where the hell is Stanford...?

[Kouralia]

I realized it went on way, way too damn long for a single IC post...

'Too long for an IC post'.

Wut.

Improvised Interrogation Room - Classified Location

Lieutenant Hovis awkwardly finished setting up the recording equipment needed for the interrogation, normally such tasks would be handled by the Special Investigative Service but it was determined that the foreign Captain would open up more to another soldier, at least that was in theory. Sighing the in resignation Malgravean gave the room a quick once over, the room being used for the questioning was actually an old storage room, the drab painting scheme combined with the old markings on the floor clearly giving an indication to its former use, the room had been quickly turned into a interrogation room several years ago by the simple addition of a medium sized table and the purchase of a recording device and camera, the official reason given was to save costs but the Lieutenant suspected laziness was also a factor.

“The Captain can enter the room now Corporal” Hovis shouted, making sure that the Corporal could hear his voice, the door opening moments later. “Please sit down Captain” the Lieutenant said sitting down whilst pointing to the seat in front of him.

Captain Wallace followed the Junior NCO into the room, his thumbs tucked into his pockets. Glancing around, he stared at the decor before smirking. “You know, Lieutenant,” he began as he made himself comfortable in the chair, “back on my home planet we invest more money into aesthetics. Don’t know why, but it just creates a better working environment.” He stared at the Corporal, “Uh, my good man, you don’t mind fetching me the packages in the 2nd and 3rd pouches of my webbing, do you? Back home we have a common drink to calm the nerves, I doubt you’d have it here but I should like a cuppa.”

The Lieutenant allowed him to smile for a second as he noticed the foreign soldiers attitude when entering the room, he guessed that that the Captain might completely shut himself out from all forms of questioning and was pleasantly surprised when he entered with the same personality as before, although that could of had something to do with his superior rank.

“We do have tea if thats what you are referring to? I also find a glass of whiskey calms me down quite nicely although I don’t think you are talking to any alcoholic drinks” Hovis said as he signalled to the Corporal allowing him to visit the storage room containing the equipment confiscated from the soldiers and take the items from the Captains webbing, at least if it was poison they could wrap this incident up rather quietly.

“Uh, actually, I was referring to the Isotonic powder and some wine...” The Captain said, glancing quickly and confusedly between the departing NCO and the Officer. “Uh, I was going to suggest that we begin. But did you really just send out the only guard in the room and leave yourself alone with a foreign, potentially hostile Special Forces soldier?”

Hovis laughed heartily at the Captain’s rather confused expression “I thought we were going to have a rather nice chat? Of course if you want I can bring in one of the other guards stationed outside the door? I’ve faced hostiles in close combat before but of course even I was to die this very second I have a hunch that this place would be surrounded quicker then a chap offering free tickets to a rugby match. So how about we cut the crap and get to asking how did you get the stargate address for this planet?”

The Captain smiled and leaned forwards, steepling his hands to show them clearly to the Lt. “Well, to the point: reasonably. I respect that. And I like your trust: ill-advised all things considered, but not misplaced.” He frowned quickly, before appearing cheery again. “The suits fucked up. We were the first men to go through, close, then come back. They gave us the address for our own planet: not this planet. They got it wrong, and that’s the long and the short of it. They can’t even pronounce Lieutenant right, and they expected to make alien technology work at the snap of their fingers?” He snorted, “Fucking scientists, meddling where they shouldn’t.”

“Why do you think this place looks like crap? I have to make deal with a converted storage room whilst the scientists in our country get entire islands dedicated to weather stations and other wastes of money.” Hovis complained, rather pleased that he had found someone that had similar problems with intellectuals. “So you’ve found yourself stranded on our planet, eh? Are Special Forces going to conduct all the missions for your stargate program? I mean the Royal Marines are currently sucked into this financial black hole” Hovis said clearly remembering the many attempts (and failures) in getting the stargate running

“Heh...” Wallace smiled, “I imagine so for a while. Either us, the Navy’s CH(A)RM, the Air Force Regiments, or the ISA’s Special Forces.” He leaned back, kicking back on the chair like a school-child in double-maths on the back row. “A question for you now, Tenente [Lieutenant]: What will become of my men and I?”

“It entirely depends on what the government decides. An attempt could be made to take you back to your homeworld, you could be transferred to a prison or you could be given new identities and live under supervision on the surface.” Hovis admitted, he would at least be truthful to the foreigner especially when it concerned his own future “What would you prefer? The possibility of being trapped under guard in this facility for years whilst scientists tried to find a way home or starting a new life on the surface but on a whole new world?” the soldier asked curiously, as the Corporal entered briefly recognising the Lieutenant before placing the requested items on the table

“I hope you understand I can’t speak for my men...Thank you, Corporal...In this matter?” The Captain enquired. “I would personally desire some more thinking time, but the desire to return to my nation is strong within me now.” He said as he began to prepare the drink. First he took the mug from the top of the water bottle, and while unscrewing the top of the water bottle he poured the hip-flask of wine into the mug. When that was done he poured water into it and swilled it around before taking a sip. “Ah... vino è buono...” [Wine is good...] FInishing with that, he pulled the case in front of him before turning to the corporal as he held his index finger just over the finger-print scanner. “You there, Corporal! How do you know there isn’t a 6.5x25mm suppressed pistol in here?”

“I’m certain it was scanned before it was entered into the storage room Sir. ” the Corporal said rather nervously adjusting his collar “Well you would not go through all this trouble to kill two Royal Marines” the Corporal continued as the Lieutenant struggled to keep a straight face, he knew without doubt that a weapon was not inside the case but friendly joshing with NCO’s helped build the character of the military.

“Oh, but are you...?” The Captain pressed his finger on the pad and took delight in the way it clicked open. “If I kill you and Hovis here while talking, the door-man might not hear a thing. Then if I keep talking for a few moments while searching you I can step out and kill him too. That’s three up to me. Then I try to free my men. The fact that I am about may be enough to get me close to the guards to kill/force them to do it. Then I hand out however many weapons I have to them and move to the armoury. I will then lead a detachment to the control room and open the gate back to where I came from. The remainder escapes, I surrender.” He cocked his head, reaching into the container, “The question is: are you feeling lucky, punk?” The question was at odds with the amused and knowing smile playing across his features.

Lieutenant Hovis leaned back on his chair, quite pleased with the pace of events. It was quite clear the Captain was joshing the Corporal with the talk of concealed firearms and even the talk of the escape plan however Hovis made no attempt to stop him, sometimes the NCOs needed a little lesson even if it was made with minor pranks.

“The camera in this room is being monitored quite closely, even if myself and the Lieutenant were killed this room would be quite quickly surrounded by highly trained soldiers who would not hesitate to kill someone who had just killed two soldiers of the Royal Marines.” the Corporal said, nervously wringing his hands before glancing over to his superior for some guidance, slightly shocked at the Lieutenants lack of response towards the foreigners threatening statements, the Malgravean almost leaping for joy when he the reason for such inaction finally clicked in his head, he was being tricked!

“Very, very... Good, I say.” Said the Kouralian, nodding. He pulled out a small touch-pad tablet from the casing before shutting it and sliding it aside. “Thank you, Corporal, for the prompt service.” He turned to the Lieutenant, “Well, I think this is all we really have to talk about for the moment. If I may, I should like to see where my men have been taken to.”

“Yes. I believe we have gained enough information for now Captain. It shall be possible for you to see the troops under your command, although I believe they are being held in multiple rooms in accordance with military regulation regarding the treatment of prisoners.” Hovis said, standing as he stopped the recording device. “Corporal. Inform the soldiers guarding the prisoners that we shall be joining them in about 4 minutes and get together an escort!” the Lieutenant ordered, the Corporal hastily leaving the room to carry out the command.

“I shall lead the way Captain, so follow me closely and I will lead you to your men” the Lieutenant said quickly moving towards and opening the door, signalling for the escort called for by the Corporal to join him and the foreign Captain as they made their way towards the facilities holding room, the way to the holding room was a literal maze of corridors and although apparently designed to help defend the complex from attack it made navigating the facility quite a task even for those familiar with the building and a near impossibility for newcomers. The Lieutenant however was no stranger to these walls and within minutes he had managed to arrive at the first of the holding rooms, successfully managing to annoy several large groups of scientists who were forced to stand aside whilst the prisoner and the escorting Marines moved down the hallway.

“Open the door, Private” Hovis ordered, almost smirking when the soldier rushed to open the door with his keycard, the Malgravean instead choosing to turn and face the foreign Captain.

“I believe this room has at least four bunk beds inside it, so you will find at least 8 of your men inside. I shall have to accompany you whilst you talk to them” the Lieutenant said opening the door so the Captain could enter and talk to his men. As soon as he did so, the Kouralian soldier stepped through, smiling as he noted gratefully that the men were in high spirits and well treated. One, Lance Corporal ‘’Bastian’ Smythe had managed to convince the Malgraveans to let him keep his Harmonica, and when the door was opened they were mid song.

“Mama told me: she said...‘That ain’t the way to...’ ROOM! ROOM ‘SHUN!”

“At ease, Gentlemen,” The Captain said. As he did so, the Kouralians relaxed from their braced-up positions. “Nice rendition of Tom Jones there. Luckily I saw the light as I passed by the window, the flickering shadow of the candle on the blind: ‘else I might not have popped in to chat with you.”

The men laughed at that, one of them catching the Officer’s eye to ask a question: “Uh, sir... And you,... Sir...” He nodded to the Malgravean Lieutenant, “What is going on?”

“Well, Private, that’s relatively simple.” The Captain leaned against the wall, “We’ve got two options. FIrstly we can wait here in confinement until these people can send us back to Kouralia, and secondly we can elect to leave here and live in their nation: severing all ties with home. Obviously...” He shifted uneasily, “This depends on what the government here decides.”

Lieutenant Hovis stood rather awkwardly by, allowing the foreign Captain valuable time to catch up with his men and joke alongside them as soldiers, the Malgravean rather confused about the Tom Jones references the Kouralians were making, perking up when the Kouralian Captain started talking about their options but freezing in utter shock when the men disclosed their actual nationality.

“...Ko...Kouralia? As in the Royal bloody Union of Kouralia?” the Lieutenant said sighing in annoyance before continuing “Lieutenant Alfred Hovis of the Royal Malgravean Marines, sir. I believe we’ve had quite a misunderstanding” Hovis said, saluting the now known Kouralian Captain as a sign of respect, the Lieutenant hoping that such an incident would not negatively affect his career.

The Kouralian Captain stood still for a moment, his face as much of a mask as the best cards player, after 3 or maybe 5 seconds he turned on the spot and acknowledged the Malgravean’s salute. “Thank you... Lieutenant for sharing that information with me earlier.” He turned back to the men in the room, “Right: you lot. We’re at the very least blagging something better than this. Go get your shit off the Malgraveans.” He turned quickly back to Hovis, “No ifs: no buts. Rifles to boots to webbing, Alfred.”

The Private who had spoken was practically laughing at the farcical nature of the mission: first they had received the wrong address, secondly they had crashed their tank, thirdly they had threatened a hundred-or-so Automatic-Riflemen with a sword: and now they were actually in an Allied base. “Yessir!” He said, standing as the Captain leaned out of the room. Sebastian Wallace pointed at the nearest Malgravean Marine,

“You sir! Escort these men to the Armoury: or where-so-ever you put their monkeys and parrots. They will collect it and meet up back in their rooms in 20 minutes.” He turned his gaze on a private, “You: go get all of the other troopers and lead-foots. Now, you!” He pointed squarely at the Corporal from the Briefing room: “My Kouralian throat is parched, and I am about to do very un-recommendable things: do you have any of the pre-advertised tea?”

“Monkeys and parrots?” the Marine in the hallway said entirely confused with the Kouralians strange language, the bemused looking soldier looking to his Lieutenant for guidance

“I assume that term means weapons and gear? I can authorise the return of certain seized items however I am afraid the weapons can only be released by the military commander of this facility. If you want your weapons returned and I assume you do then you shall have to arrange a meeting with him to negotiate the release of these weapons” Hovis said before turning his attentions back to the Private now in the doorway. “Get the equipment from the storage room minus the weapons.”

“Tea? Ah yes of course Sir! I’ll get right to it Sir” the Corporal nervously replied, virtually running out of the room to carry out the Kouralian soldiers request.

“Oh, good...” Captain Wallace smiled, “I should like to meet him, and my sword should be appreciated. And all of my men shall be informed as to their situation in full now.” He looked around, “One last thing, before you take me to your leader, where are we?”

“We’re quite near Tillingham, a city on the northern mountain region. Officially this facility is one of many complexes designed to maintain the regions security against both internal and external threats. Unofficially of course it houses our countries own space exploration project.” the Lieutenant explained before gently guiding the Kouralian Captain back through the maze of corridors, the pair arriving at what appeared to be a row of central elevators with the Lieutenant swiping an ID card to be granted access to the needed floor. After a brief journey upwards Hovis stepped out of the elevator leading the Kouralian soldier through yet another maze of corridors before eventually arriving at a small conference room. In the middle stood Lieutenant General Thomas Henderson, in spite of being 65 years of age the Malgravean still radiated authority, his carefully groomed grey hair and spotless uniform further highlighting the fervent cleanliness that seemed to permeate Malgravean society.

“So you’re the reason I currently have an armoured vehicle in my gateroom?” the Commander said briefly pausing signalling for the Kouralian captain to take a seat as he did the same. “You know when I was first told about this incident I barely believed it but when you take command of such a facility you get used to such things. I hear you want your weapons returned to your soldiers? I have the authority to return these weapons however I shall have to ask some questions before I can come to a decision. Do you understand?” Lieutenant General Henderson said despite his welcoming hazel eyes the Commanders face was obviously quite weathered from many years of battle.

The Captain nodded, in some ways they contrasted and in others they were quite similar. The Kouralian was young and relatively heavily built, with short-cropped dark hair. He was wearing the emerald grey beret of his regiment, along with an MTP combat shirt and trousers. Unlike the highly shined parade shoes of the General Officer, the Kouralian Junior Officer’s boots were polished to a dull and semi-camouflaged sheen. On the other hand, the trousers he wore were clearly very well ironed, despite the small amounts of dried mud visible on them, the Captain was well groomed, and his beret was moulded with the precision one might expect of an ISA Kill-Order. “Indeed I am, sir. Your gate was incorrectly set up for the travel of the CRVT so sadly it is going to need an AEV to disassemble and remove it to the surface. And I do desire my men
to be rearmed - I shall answer your questions as best as I can to facilitate this, Sir.”

“I can make arrangements for the dismantle of the armoured vehicle.” the Commander said simply his welcoming gaze turning more inquisitive. “You are amongst fellow comrades. Our countries share quite a close relationship something which is quite rare considering my governments distrusting attitude toward foreigners. So why do you feel the need to carry weaponry? You are quite safe within these walls Captain” Henderson asked.

“Indeed, however, sir you know what is said about an Infantryman and his rifle. My men would feel improperly dressed without them.” He smiled, “Anyway, now it is time for you to ask the questions - though I won’t compromise OpSec with my answers.”

“So Kouralia has decided to investigate the stargate network? Although considering the fact that you only managed to travel a few thousand miles I doubt you were successful. Now if I order these weapons returned I take it I can count upon your honour as a gentlemen and a soldier that none of the soldiers under your command will kick up a fuss?” Henderson said, the Malgravean understood the importance of honour on Kouralian society especially the military.
“Of course, sir. They will not kick up a fuss because I will tell them not to. And, uh... I think we began investigating the ‘Stargate Network’. The ISA discovered an extra-terrestrial artefact which functions as a portal. It was used to travel through, and on the return journey we ended up in your atrium.”

“You travelled to another planet via your own gate but connected to ours on the return voyage? I’m certainly no scientist but it seems like our gate took over as the primary gate. If this problem persists and our gate keeps taken over for the return journey what will your superiors do? Attempt to solve the issue? One which could reverse the issue of control, stop the programme or instead cooperate with our national stargate project?” The Malgravean General asked quite worried about what any Kouralian attempt to reverse the situation would have on the many teams he had dotted around the galaxy.

Wallace frowned, “I couldn’t possibly say, sir. Not solely because of Operational Security, but also because I honestly do not know. Assuming it is possible to create specific sub-routes to ours and yours, there should be no problems at all. I am, fortunately, not a scientist - as a soldier I can merely say that the Kouralian Military is assisting the project in a professional security enhancement capacity.” His expression changed slightly, “You would have to speak to Special Agent Aleks of the Intelligence and Security Agency if you want to know much more about the actual project.”

“I thought you would say something like that” Thomas said pausing for a second, rubbing the top of his lip as he thought of a response. “You see I am responsible for every man and woman currently living and working inside this facility and I fear that any attempts to fiddle around with the gate network could have negative repercussions for my countries stargate project and while any issues might be fixed in the long run, at this moment of time I have several teams scattered across the galaxy working in extremely hostile conditions, teams that count upon the reliable continuation of the gate network with their lives. It is quite a hard task to try and explain to family members that their loved ones are reported missing without being able to tell them anything about the circumstances” Thomas said a sad expression covering his face as he remembered the times he had to inform family members about soldiers, scientists and other workers killed or missing in action “How would I get in contact with this Special Agent Aleks?” The Malgravean General asked

“I should think the phone might do well enough, sir.” Wallace smiled, “If you can provide me with a phone and something else then I can try to get a hold of him for you.”

“Ah relatively simple then. Attempting to contact some foreign military leaders sometimes feels like a marathon. If you’ll follow me to my office we can use my phone.” The Malgravean General said preparing to lead the Kouralian officer through his base, his office was stationed quite close to the gate itself in order for him to debrief certain soldiers and scientists returning from the gate as quickly as possible and to remain as close to the action as possible.

“Ah, very good, sir...” Wallace smiled, “but perhaps, I should like another request? Before we initiate calling the Special Agent.”

“What is that request Captain? If reasonable it shall be handled immediately” the General quickly replied

“I should like to pick my blade up on the way through the base, if that is okay with you?” The Junior Officer grinned at the General.

“Of course. I can have it transported to my office or you can directly pick it up in the storage room, thats if you don’t want anyone else touching your sword” Thomas told the Kouralian hoping he would take the first option.

“I suppose it’s okay if they transport it to your office.” He nodded, gesturing that he was okay for them to leave. “You may not understand it, but Kouralia is a highly traditional nation - we’ve been liberal in many ways for so long that they are traditions, and in other ways they are not. As a soldier I can’t really negotiate with you or another nation-state: such as what we may have encountered through the disc. As a bearer of one of the Royal Guard blades I am also an envoy - a very low-down one, but an envoy of the crown nonetheless. There are many such traditions - did you know that Battalion Command Teams carry Colours? While the changing nature of warfare makes their capture much less likely than in the 1800s, their capture is still one of - if not the worst dishonours a battalion can suffer.”

“Kouralia is regarded as one of the few civilised nations in the world and tourism is promoted in the country alongside the usual financial and cultural influence, so us Malgraveans tend to know quite a bit about Kouralia and its respect for tradition. We recently established a colony near the Kouralian mainland in order to help foster future population and economic growth, have you had the pleasure of visiting either the colony or even the Malgravean mainland?” The Malgravean General asked as the pair walked through the same corridors they had travelled down previously in order to get to the conference room, passing soldiers saluting the General as he walked past them.

The Captain seemed a tad surprised at the sudden change of conversation, but took it in his stride. “I can’t say I have had the pleasure of either. I mean, I don’t really know much about the colony if I’m honest. It might be a good place to go to when my tour’s up - which it will be in about two weeks time. I’ve been active for the last six months, so I don’t really know what’s happened recently in much detail, much of my time being occupied by sitting in a bunker in the Western Mountains.” He smiled. “Is there anything you can really tell me about the colony?”

“Ah! It is quite amazing how quickly culture has spread on the colony, although initially focused to house some of the best and frankly insane scientists and their research it has quickly expanded into a centre for the Malgravean Armed Forces as well, this has seen quite a rapid rise in the civilian population. You can watch a musical, theatrical production or visit an art gallery or museum in Cerne. If you fancy a more active lifestyle you can take part in river sports near the smaller city of Ryn or even climb a mountain near Gosbury” The General said pausing as he laughed for a few seconds “I sound like a fairly awful travel agent. What about Kouralia? I have only visited the capital in my time, although I have heard some tales from young sailors” Thomas said smiling as he remembered hearing some of the drunken adventures.

“Heh...” The Kouralian Captain grinned, “It’s kind of hard to summarise Kouralia easily. You could fly to three different airports and be forced into a holding pattern because of leaves on one runway, a hurricane at another and a small horde of Air Force jets on exercise at the third. In the cities you could think yourself anywhere, but in the countryside you’ll see whole streets coming out for dinner: kids, teens, adults, pensioners all sitting down and enjoying life. In some parts of Kouralia you can get inches of snow every week for half of the year, in other parts it’s 40’ all year - including the month of hurricanes and rains. In the entire nation it’s bad to get shit-faced - excuse my language, sir - except for the South West. Though we don’t talk about that place much.” Wallace smiled to show he was joking, “Kurton’s nice so long as one avoids the docks at night - the iron-wrought gates mark the extent of where it’s socially acceptable to be drunk and the extent of which any foreign laws may in any way be said to be applied...”

“As it is said in Malgrave, a diverse country means a diverse culture. Since international travel became available it has become a hobby of mine to visit foreign countries and see the social structure in order, it was quite a welcome change to visit Kouralia and see no vast displays of public drunkenness that I have seen in countless other nations. We have two main classifications for foreigners in Malgrave, the barbarian and the civilised foreigner. I am pleased to note that Kouralia is one of the few civilised countries on this world! I mean have you visited or heard tales of some of these barbaric nations? I heard one even had an eight year old as President! I shudder to think what life in that country is like” Henderson said as the pair finally reached the Generals office, a cramped affair the room barely fit a drinking cabinet and a medium sized table which was currently stacked with mission reports, a computer and two telephones, one that connected directly to the Prime Minister . It was quite clear to the outside observer that the General only visited this room when he needed to.

“Mm-hmm, Indeed I have heard stories from these places.” The Junior Officer nodded, “The Hobbiest Republic. Bit scary what they’re all like over there with the crazed pre-teen admirals.” He stepped inside the office, a smile on his face when he saw how small it was. “They like to keep you cooped up then, eh Sir?” He asked jovially as he shut the door behind them.

“Sometimes I like to joke that the janitor has a larger office then me.” Thomas joked looking at the future paperwork with some distaste before rejoining the conversation “Indeed. When I was first informed of the age of these Hobbiest military and political commanders I thought someone was pulling my leg. I mean can you remember some of the idiotic mistakes you made when you were a kid? Imagine those decisions effecting fellow members of the military and millions of citizens? Its madness and I certainly won’t be visiting the Hobbiest Republic anytime soon” the Lieutenant General remarked, the Malgravean taking time to clear a spare chair of reports from numerous scientific outposts before the General himself sat down and continued with his train of thought and the purpose of the journey “You wish to use the phone? You can. I shall also return you your blade” the General said gesturing to both the grey phone on the table and the Captains sword which had been placed nearby

“I thank you very much, sir.” Wallace reached across and pulled the phone towards him before picking up the handset and putting it on speaker-phone. “This... It might take a while, it depends on how quickly certain people put me through.” He grinned and dialed in a number, waiting a second before a slightly tinny and automated female voice came out of the handset.

“Hello, this is the Intelligence and Security Agency of the Royal Union of Kouralia, please select one of the following four options...” The Officer sighed and reached across, pressing down 0 for a few seconds before another voice came through, “This is the ISA, please specify which division you would like to reach.”

“Ah, Hello. I would... Er... I’d like to contact M Division, that is M as Mike.” He waited for a second.

“Which department would you like to contact within the Division?”

“I would like to contact Facility Two-Twenty One Charlie.” He leaned back, stretching out an arm to pick up the sword and lay its sheathed blade across his lap as there was a long pause, some key-board mashing just audible in the background.

“I’m afraid there is no such facility operated by the Intelligence and Security Agency.” the voice came across crisply as if rehearsed. “If you like I cou...”

“Wallace, Sebastian, Captain, Royal Kouralian Army, Special Reconnaissance Regiment, Seconded - Intelligence and Security Agency DIvision Mike, Deployment - Facility Two-Twenty-One-Charlie.” The Captain quickly cut across the young man. “Can we cut through this and get to the head of Mike Division, thanks.” He sighed before joking ironically., “See what the youth are like these days...” he said, fully aware of his young age compared to the General.

The General chuckled warmly at the Kouralians joke. It was a common joke within the classified departments of the military that you needed to be sufficiently skilled in fighting against bureaucracy in order to get anything done and it seemed that was the case in Kouralia

There was a slight change in tone of the buzzing coming from the phone before another voice emanated from it, “Hello, this is Special Agent Lawrence Baxter, is it Captain Wallace to whom I am speaking?”

“You are speaking to Lieutenant General Henderson of the Malgravean Royal Marines. I am the current Commander of the classified stargate facility you’re troops just decided to breach with an armoured vehicle” Henderson told the Kouralian Special Agent.

“Uh...” The voice stopped, unsure of itself, “I’m... I...” There was a pause. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m afraid I cannot comment on, provide intelligence about, brief anyone on or hold a conversation regarding any on-going ISA matters.”

“I believe any pretence of ignorance or talk of classified materials stopped when a Kouralian armoured vehicle crashed into my gate room don’t you think?” Henderson replied quickly.

There was momentary silence and then the faint ambient sound of people being irritated in a muffled manner passed through the speakers: clearly the call had been transferred again. There was a tentative voice, “Hello?”

“Yes. We are still here. I presume being transferred to a new caller means we shall actually receive some information on this cockup.” Henderson said rather unimpressed with the amount of call transfers.

There was a slight pause, and then the voice began irritably. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but this is not amusing. If you’ve gotten hold of identification information of a Kouralian Official and intend to use it for illegal purposes then I recommend you halt that activity right now. In fac...”

The Malgravean General laughed for a second before choosing to interrupt the Kouralians rather silly attempt at a rant. “We captured an entire platoon of your men entering our classified facility via a gate that enables one to travel through space. An armoured vehicle crashed into our vehicle for christ sake and you are honestly trying to cover this up? Like I said previously I am Lieutenant General Henderson of the Malgravean Royal Marines and I am currently standing with Sebastian Wallace of the Royal Kouralian Army. Now the United Kingdom of Malgrave and the Royal Union of Kouralia are quite close allies are they not? I doubt you want to cause a diplomatic ruckus over this” Henderson said indicating for the Kouralian Captain to make the person on the opposite end of the phone aware of his presence.

“Uh, yeah.” The Kouralian Officer called out. “I’m here, Special Agent, so I shouldn’t bother claiming that he’s trying to pretend he’s got us.” There was another silence before some muffled talking could be heard on the other end.

“No, I don’t want fucking coffee!” The agent yelled to someone else, clearly audible down the phone line. “I...” The voice came back, “I’m not entirely sure what you’re suggesting, that a Kouralian military force was sent via the Kouralian Government to your nation?” The question was left hanging as the speaker continued, “If we are to talk frankly here and off the record then... Well...” That was left hanging too.

Henderson sighed in relief, despite being thrown through many hoops and transferred around like virus it seemed he would finally get some answers to the days events “We can talk of the record quite easily. I am currently the commander of a military facility that controls a device we call the stargate, a big ring that sends soldiers and scientists through space. Whilst preparing to launch a drone the stargate activated and an armoured Kouralian vehicle crashed into the wall followed closely by several Kouralian soldiers including the nice Captain standing here.” Henderson told the Kouralian on the other end of the phone.

“So, you are on another planet? And the platoon just advanced through as opposed to coming out where they were expected to?” The voice inquired calmly.

“No. We’re currently on Terra. I believe the platoon arrived on an alien planet as planned however on the return journey our gate took over as the primary and re-directed the platoon into our gateroom. If the Malgravean gate continues to interfere with Kouralian operations it seems we might have to arrange some sort of partnership agreement” Henderson replied his voice also remaining quite calm.

“I... Yes...” There was silence for a while before the Kouralian Officer leaned in and said a few words to the Agent. There was not a hint of superiority or triumph in his voice as he spoke. A hint is nowhere near descriptive enough.

“You’re bokked now, Special Aleks. Project director and you not only released information about it to a foreign nation, you failed to properly research the situation and you endangered the lives of the Kouralian people through potentially causing a symmetrical conflict.” He sighed, “I think you should really consider finding other people who can better weather this fallout, don’t you?”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Wallace paused, gesturing to the Malgravean that he could speak, if he wanted to.

“I do not wish to interfere in Kouralian affairs however I must remark it was quite easy to get confidential information from a chap who supposedly should be quite good at keeping secrets that and starting a conflict after what turned out to be a simple misunderstanding seems quite silly to me? After all our nations do enjoy quite a close friendship do they not?” General Henderson replied rather unsure of what to tell the Kouralian Special Agent

“I think it’s best if we send this further up the chain of command.” The Kouralian agent said. “If you don’t mind sir, I have reports to prepare and things to do.” There was a pause, “As I’m sure you do too...”

The Captain shrugged, “I can only begin writing my reports when you get me back home, or at least to a Kouralian embassy.” He turned to the Major General, “What will happen about I and my men now?”

“They shall be released from their cells immediately and given guest privileges to the facility, from that point onward they will be reunited with their equipment and be allowed to leave the base after signing a nondisclosure agreement. After the NDA is signed then they shall be given the option of being transported to the Kouralian embassy or a reasonable location within Malgrave..” Henderson informed the Kouralian Captain.

[Goram]

actually a lot were lost do to pilot error. the 109 was known to be very unfogiving on landings because of its very narrow landing gear.

Except I'd wager the vast majority of those crashes, small fraction of overall losses that they were, weren't irreparable, or even necessarily crippling.
That alone isn't the silver bullet, not by a long shot.

The Germans must have done something right speaking that they have the top ace spots in the war. That and if the Spit was so superior how do you explain the fact that the RAF was losing the Battle of Britian until Goering decided to switch priorities.

They had the top ace spots because of good training and the fact they went up against the Soviet Air Force, IE the Air Force with the most planes by far, the least-trained pilots, and overall the lowest quality planes on average. So, hordes of targets. The vast majority of those ludicrous scores were racked up on the Eastern Front.
And the RAF wasn't losing - they were giving as good as they were getting. The fact of the matter was, their Air Force was just smaller and being attacked on their entire southern frontier at once. They were stretched to the limit, but so was the Luftwaffe.
I suggest you read the wiki page here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_ ... _airfields, for a more balanced view. The Luftwaffe might have exhausted the RAF from 24 August to 6th September had they kept the pace up, just like how the 8th Air Force might have crippled Schweinfurt and the entire German mechanization strategy had they kept up the pace. But in both cases, keeping up the pace was impossible, because the Germans/8th Air Force would have annihilated themselves in the process.

Just to back this up...

The Luftwaffe did not rotate airmen in and out of action, in the same way that the Allied did. That meant that their pilots were permanently in combat and able to rack up huge scores. Equally, as Tiger says, most of them did it on the Eastern Front against Russian pilots who may as well have taken a pistol and shot themselves in the face because it would have been a quicker way to go.

Also, to the German fighter pilot only one thing mattered. A lot of them treated it like an athletic competition, where only one's personal score mattered. Because of that, the chances are a lot of their claimed kills are unsubstantiated. Not to say they weren't excellent pilots, flying excellent machines, but I feel that Bubi Hartmann's 350 odd kills might be slightly inflated, don't you?

Honestly, I think the early 109 is a equal machine to the early Spitfire - if not marginally superior. But they way that you're putting it Poland, and that documentary makes it seem, is that the Spitfire may as well have been a WWI biplane when compared to the 109. It's just not true. Cannons (if they don't jam) are great, but .303 machine guns will just as surely knock an enemy aircraft down.

[The Two Jerseys]

Except I'd wager the vast majority of those crashes, small fraction of overall losses that they were, weren't irreparable, or even necessarily crippling.
That alone isn't the silver bullet, not by a long shot.

They had the top ace spots because of good training and the fact they went up against the Soviet Air Force, IE the Air Force with the most planes by far, the least-trained pilots, and overall the lowest quality planes on average. So, hordes of targets. The vast majority of those ludicrous scores were racked up on the Eastern Front.
And the RAF wasn't losing - they were giving as good as they were getting. The fact of the matter was, their Air Force was just smaller and being attacked on their entire southern frontier at once. They were stretched to the limit, but so was the Luftwaffe.
I suggest you read the wiki page here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_ ... _airfields, for a more balanced view. The Luftwaffe might have exhausted the RAF from 24 August to 6th September had they kept the pace up, just like how the 8th Air Force might have crippled Schweinfurt and the entire German mechanization strategy had they kept up the pace. But in both cases, keeping up the pace was impossible, because the Germans/8th Air Force would have annihilated themselves in the process.

Just to back this up...

The Luftwaffe did not rotate airmen in and out of action, in the same way that the Allied did. That meant that their pilots were permanently in combat and able to rack up huge scores. Equally, as Tiger says, most of them did it on the Eastern Front against Russian pilots who may as well have taken a pistol and shot themselves in the face because it would have been a quicker way to go.

Also, to the German fighter pilot only one thing mattered. A lot of them treated it like an athletic competition, where only one's personal score mattered. Because of that, the chances are a lot of their claimed kills are unsubstantiated. Not to say they weren't excellent pilots, flying excellent machines, but I feel that Bubi Hartmann's 350 odd kills might be slightly inflated, don't you?

Honestly, I think the early 109 is a equal machine to the early Spitfire - if not marginally superior. But they way that you're putting it Poland, and that documentary makes it seem, is that the Spitfire may as well have been a WWI biplane when compared to the 109. It's just not true. Cannons (if they don't jam) are great, but .303 machine guns will just as surely knock an enemy aircraft down.

We Yanks managed to get by with machine guns only. I heard someone tell me once that if the pilots aimed their guns so that their fire converged on a single point, it was possible for six .50 cals to blow a 109's wing right off with a short burst.

[Goram]

Just to back this up...

The Luftwaffe did not rotate airmen in and out of action, in the same way that the Allied did. That meant that their pilots were permanently in combat and able to rack up huge scores. Equally, as Tiger says, most of them did it on the Eastern Front against Russian pilots who may as well have taken a pistol and shot themselves in the face because it would have been a quicker way to go.

Also, to the German fighter pilot only one thing mattered. A lot of them treated it like an athletic competition, where only one's personal score mattered. Because of that, the chances are a lot of their claimed kills are unsubstantiated. Not to say they weren't excellent pilots, flying excellent machines, but I feel that Bubi Hartmann's 350 odd kills might be slightly inflated, don't you?

Honestly, I think the early 109 is a equal machine to the early Spitfire - if not marginally superior. But they way that you're putting it Poland, and that documentary makes it seem, is that the Spitfire may as well have been a WWI biplane when compared to the 109. It's just not true. Cannons (if they don't jam) are great, but .303 machine guns will just as surely knock an enemy aircraft down.

We Yanks managed to get by with machine guns only. I heard someone tell me once that if the pilots aimed their guns so that their fire converged on a single point, it was possible for six .50 cals to blow a 109's wing right off with a short burst.

The RAF did that as well. Originally, the Spitfire's guns converged at 400 yards but by the Battle of Britain it was standard for them to converge at 250 yards, but it wasn't uncommon for pilots to tweak it down to as little as 50 yards.

The guns on a Spitfire (or a Hurricane) fired 20 rounds a second. That's 160 rounds a second from all guns. If you hit a 109 with even a small squirt, say a second and a half, you've just hit that 109 with 240 rounds. Considering that the rounds probably aren't regular ball ammunition and may have an incendiary or armour piercing effect, I'm sure that that'll ruin your day.

[The balkens]

My grandfather flew 109s during the war.

His career was somewhat uneventful until the battle of Britain, he managed to kill a hurricane before getting shutdown over the channel.

By a motherfucking spit.

He said that he wanted payback to the point were he wanted to go up there and fight again.

I'll tell you more about him later.

[Morrdh]

Just to throw this out here, found this vid about flight trying on the Douglas C-47/Dakota.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jtmb-kPGB0c

[Morrdh]

Another vid on aviation history, admittedly flying boats but does touch on interwar period flights in Australia....probably calls for a slight alteration to Kaya's backstory.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8YcLBkUOB7I

[Monfrox]

My grandfather flew 109s during the war.

His career was somewhat uneventful until the battle of Britain, he managed to kill a hurricane before getting shutdown over the channel.

By a motherfucking spit.

He said that he wanted payback to the point were he wanted to go up there and fight again.

I'll tell you more about him later.

Funny you mention that, my dad came home yesterday and gave me some handmedowns. Not the bad kind, no these were awesome. My dad gave me my grandpa's old Army Dress uniform from Korea that still has his rank and ribbons on it and his Army Issue trench coat. He also gave me his old duffel bag and some pictures of him and his buddies.

[Morrdh]

My grandfather flew 109s during the war.

His career was somewhat uneventful until the battle of Britain, he managed to kill a hurricane before getting shutdown over the channel.

By a motherfucking spit.

He said that he wanted payback to the point were he wanted to go up there and fight again.

I'll tell you more about him later.

Funny you mention that, my dad came home yesterday and gave me some handmedowns. Not the bad kind, no these were awesome. My dad gave me my grandpa's old Army Dress uniform from Korea that still has his rank and ribbons on it and his Army Issue trench coat. He also gave me his old duffel bag and some pictures of him and his buddies.

Military service is something my family had largely avoided aside from some exceptions.

Grandfather on my dad's side avoid military service TWICE, he was an aircraft mechanic when war broke out in 1939 and spent WW2 as a civvie attached to the RAF. After the war he got called up for National Service and was found to be medically unfit, though he got as far as a RAF training camp and a bit of square bashing.

Grandfather on my mother's side was in the British Army (for some reason I've got Royal Armoured Corps stuck in my head for him), but I have seen a photo of him in the battledress uniform complete with beret and a Lance Corporal's stripe.

[The balkens]

5000th post bitches!!


Also.


Military service is huge in my family.

My great uncle gave me a cavalry sword as well as a very old rifle.

I think it's called the needle gun.