<BLOCKQUOTE><font size="1" face="Verdana, Arial">quote:</font><HR>You want a real Fighter? Go look at the Butcher Bird - the FW190! [/quote]
Aaah, Dora... more sporting than the A-8s, as they're missing a couple of 20 mikes.
My personal favorite is "Der Koenig" -- Bf109K-14 with the DB605L & Mk108. Skittish as hell and ballistics to match, but ain't nothing takes it in a drag race at 30k.
<wax philosophic=on>
I remember the final frame of
Point Blank... I was leading a gruppe of Fw190A-8s -- primary strike force against the medium bombers of the 9th Air Force. There was some confusion as to their target early on, as the Americans sent several fighter groups across the Channel, but we avoided the sweeps by skirting north.
New GCI vectors -- a large concentration crossing the Channel ENE of our position. Our high cover of Gustavs accelerates ahead, and soon calls contact with the American sweep -- P-38s. Unfortunately for the Americans our Bf109s are piloted by Experten, and the FTDs are converted to flaming wreckage faster than you can say "HORIDO!" Eight FTDs dispatched without loss.
Final vectors from GCI, and then I see them -- a squadron of B-25s roughly ten miles ahead, slightly low. I call the tally and split my gruppe; we'll attack head-on by schwarme, in trail. I glance over my shoulder and watch with satisfaction as my wingman slides aft and to the side, just as he should. He's green, and new to 190s, but disciplined -- and not overly aggressive -- he'll do well.
I line up on the lead B-25... hold the pipper low... estimate lead and bullet drop... more lead... closure over 1000km/hr... the B-25 starts to grow bigger... at 1200m I open fire with my MG-151s, make a quick adjustment, and then let loose with all four 20mm cannon -- I see strikes on the nose, crawling over the canopy, and then into the starboard engine -- suddenly the B-25 is dead ahead, looming large, so large I can see the spinning props -- am I going to hit ... ?
BBBBBRRRRRREEEEEOOOOooooowwwww.....
We flash by each other in an instant, missing a collision by scant meters. It seems much closer.
I'm through the formation so fast I don't have time to take a shot at any of the trailing B-25s, so I bank and climb to the outside of their formation. Over my shoulder my wingman tucks in; as I wonder whether or not he's watching for enemy fighters, he calls over the radio: "All clear." Behind us the lead B-25 is trailing thick smoke, as are three more in their formation; the second schwarme blows through, and two B-25s fall out, and then explode... there are no parachutes.
<wax philosophic=off>
<<--- In certain other places, known as "The *REAL* Auger"
