We were sent out on a routine patrol down to the cliffs today and ran smack into a bunch of Germans! I went after a 110 that was extremely persuasive in his desire not to be shot down. Eventually, he came around to my way of thinking and I saw two chutes fly out. I then headed out far out into the channel in pursuit of another fleeing enemy. It was only then that my craft started to lose power. Seems I was well into yet another shot out engine. I knew this time I would lose the whole plane as there was no way I could glide that far so I dropped some flaps and angled off towards some small fishing craft to the north. A few minutes later, I head a buzzing sound and looked back to see a 109 bearing down on me! I went into my best approximation of an un-powered power dive as I twisted down away from him. Fortunately, he was no better shot as tracers flew past me. I guess he was too embarrassed to attempt another pass as he headed off towards Calais. I was able to glide for a few more miles before hitting the chute at 1200 feet. Picked up none the worse for wear, I was back to North Weald in time to write this by daylight...
The older I get, the more I realize I don't need to be Han, Luke or Leia. I'm just happy to be rebel scum...
