Saints be praised, he is alive and well. A good thing indeed Sir JR2, you were missed.

I certainly hope you can cure your ailing ferret. I know you have spoken of him/her often so I'm quite sure it is considered one of the family.

True things have been quiet on the HWH front lately but as I said a while ago, it is now summer and I for one have much less time to spend on these things during this season. With kids going back and forth to summer camp, vacation planning, yardwork, boating and a huge workload at the office there is sparse time for playing BoB let alone writing of the experiences. I'm glad just to be able to get here once a day or so and check in with all you good lads.

Hot as hell here, 95 today 96 Wednesday. Urggggggg!

TALLY HO!

JRT,

Sorry to read that JDF is poorly. We are rootin' for him here and hope he pulls through.

Many thanks for your condolences. I'm pretty sure we played the best we had got...more or less...but I always had that feeling that we were stuck in third gear. Never really got going to the standard when we thrashed Germany 5 - 1 a while back.

The US put up a great performance but I wish they could get much more national support. They certainly deserved it this time round.

Ahhh. The Beautiful Game. What a moment for Zerosan2, one of such ordinary talent when compared to those hereabouts, to return to the fold after such a long and enforced absence.
Oh how we are often compelled to eat humble pie by our own, thoughtless words.
Was it me who once said on these very pages
"Americans, I love them me. Its just a pity they can't play football".
Well, the men who represented the USA in Korea and Japan have just proved that Americans can indeed play football. By football, of course, I mean the proper variety with which the world is familiar.
What was not surprising was that the Germans came along and pi...rained on your parade, Yanks. It makes perfect sense to me. The Germans are just bloody well good at it, even when they,re bad.
Still, as all us red blooded Englishmen will confirm, that is something we are altogether used to.
In any event, Respect to American Soccer.
I am also sorry to hear about the ferret, JRT. I know how fond you are of that polecat, and how far it has travelled with you. Hope he feels better soon.
I must, must, must get another story up soon before my DFWC is ripped asunder from my chest by those more worthy by effort and content. Its just...well, time is always the one thing we never seem to have enough of.
Just like being 2-1 down to the Brazilians in the 57th minute really.

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Zerosan the Magnificent

Folks,

SNAFU and Old Dux,

Thanks for the notes of encouragement regarding Jaydee Fidget. How kind it was of you, Old Dux to remember his name. He is still holding on. And yes, he is certainly a loved member of our family and is often my only companion late at night when the 109s are on the prowl and everyone else including our tomcat is safe asleep in their warm beds.

It is silly I suppose to become so attached to a little four-legged critter, and I do not knowingly anthropromorphize, yet he does occupy a place of importance in all our lives bringing us much pleasure. We in turn feel a responsibility beyond just that of pet and owner. In fact, if anything he owns us. If he doesn't become dehydrated he should pull through.

Zerosan:

How nice it is to hear from you again. Thanks for your good wishes for our ferrets recovery. Ferrets are much too often still considerd "exotic pets" by many over here. There is far more "ferreting" done in Britain than here in the states. We are not allowed to hunt with them here and some unenlightened states even ban them altogether. Still they are catching on as pets just behind cats, dogs and birds. Good grief, it is about time because they've been domesticated longer than the common cat! Most vets here have learned to recognize them on sight in the past decade. I'm told that ferrets cost ten times as much to purchase over here than in Britain.

Please do honor us with another adventure. I always look forward to reading your stories and miss them when you go on these long spells when we do not hear from you. Keep a lookout on your extra mailbox from time to time because we will remind you that you need to visit.

Here's a little story I hope everyone will read and enjoy. Ok, that's two things and so I guess I'm expecting about 50% too much.

A Lovely Light

The summer sun, now quite low over coastal England gave a lovely light. This seemed especially so from a vantage point of 20,000 feet. Old Sol was just before setting, the earth below was in darkness, still its waning rays turned the drifting clouds over the Channel from white to a gorgeous golden yellow. Red Flight was desperately engaged with a sky full of bogies so no one noticed. No one could spare even a moment to enjoy the sun’s beauty if they wanted to remain alive to see it rise again. The crackling noise filling one new pilot’s canvas covered earphones made no sense to him at all. Everyone seemed to be screaming all at once. It was like listening to a different language yet certain words were recognizable. $%$%&*@@ break right! Look out he’s ^&^(%$^$$#$# and firing. Then one voice suddenly broke out of the mud in a scream that nearly took his head off. For God’s sake Jamie break! Recognition came swiftly after that but it was too late.

Sitting there quietly in the lengthening shadows that were settling over his home’s rooftop, a rooftop that was quite high for him but, in fact, 20,000 feet below the battle, a young man called Toby strained his little neck to watch the knot of serpentine contrails high above. He knew that each contrail represented a plane. They were high enough to be glinting in the sun, thus they remained visible although the shadows of night were quickly spreading their way. All at once there was a flash that was followed seconds later by a distant boom. Showers of tiny sparks and one brilliant point of light began falling slowly earthward. Brighter and brighter the falling point grew as Toby held his breath.

At 20,000 feet the battle was not going well for Red Flight. Bounced on their weary way home after another battle they had lost three more of their number including Jamie Smythe, their newest replacement. Outnumbered two to one by a mixed bag of 109s and 110s Red Flight’s Spitfires were being hard pressed just to hold their own. Then suddenly from somewhere above and behind them a flight of Hurricanes led by Flight Leader SNAFU joined the fray making it an even fight at last. SNAFU’s flight was made up of seasoned pilots with much combat experience so this along with short 109 fuel supplies shortly began turning the tide in favor of the RAF.

Each Hurricane pilot picked a target. SNAFU himself mercilessly fell upon an unsuspecting German pilot flying a 109 with what SNAFU later described as a silly cartoon mouse painted on the fuselage. His gritted teeth were painfully jarred almost to the point of cracking as an angry SNAFU gave the enemy several blistering 10-second bursts with all .303s blazing. As the 109 danced in his gunsight SNAFU held on to the enemy’s tail like a rabid Pit Bull. Hits sparkled all over the engine, hood and out across the port wing. The 109 began a climb to the right with SNAFU sticking to him like a deadly shadow. Another burst of .303 shells brought black, oily smoke trailing back from the engine of the 109. The German plane now began to shudder as its speed slowed. There was a loud bang! Fire engulfed the entire engine, cockpit and tail section as the stricken 109 rolled upon its back and fell burning at both ends, flickering brightly into the gathering darkness below. What a lovely light thought SNAFU, thinking of Jamie.

Down below, young Toby had just caught his breath as, in the distance, another bright spark lit up a nearby cloud and began falling to earth. As it fell it tumbled and changed to all the colors of the rainbow. It burned brighter and brighter and then suddenly it went out as it passed behind the shadowy trees across the dark lane. There was a loud crack that shook Toby’s farmhouse and a fierce glow became discernable amongst flickering shadows between dark tree trunks. “Mummy! Mummy, Toby called out to his mother who was now standing on the ground just below him with a worried look on her face. “One fell just there, across the lane, Toby pointed. It nearly shook me right off the roof... but it gave a lovely light.”


My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends -
It gives a lovely light!

“First Fig”, by Edna St. V. Millay


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"Blessed are they who expect nothing.
For they will not be disappointed." - Edmund Qwenn, "The Trouble with Harry"

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Folks,

Sir Bader:

Thanks for the e-mail. I am pleased that you at least liked the ending.

We're sorry you've been flying a desk for so long however that hard work is vital and your recent mods are truly marvelous additions to BOB. Please keep turning them out. It is now almost a privilege and a pleasure to be shot down by such beautiful 109s.

On the other hand, I'd love a story too, if and when you have a spare moment and are allowed to park the desk and fly your "Bus Company" Hurricane once again.

SNAFU seems to be doing a grand job in your stead leading the Hurris so we might reasonably expect a tale or two from him shortly. Perhaps Old Dux will also honor (or humor) us with a hilarious chapter from his war diary as well.

You should write your memoirs Old Dux, I'd love a copy, suitably inscribed of coarse.
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"Blessed are they who expect nothing.
For they will not be disappointed." - Edmund Qwenn, "The Trouble with Harry"

[This message has been edited by Jolly Roger Too (edited 06-26-2002).]

Hi chaps!

JRT,
Write my memoirs? That would have Tom Schofield busy with the 'blue pencil' I suspect.

I got all three E-Mails in a bunch. How do you manage to separate those illustrations with such accuracy when making up those beautiful montages? SNAFU's quoted comment on the front page....is that 'Adolf Hitler is full of sh**'? Can't quite make it out

'We' are appalled by the drought and heat conditions you are suffering over there. We Brits just see it as sunshine to envy but at such a price. All those poor people in Arizona being uprooted by the thousand as fire spreads to threaten their homes.
Maybe we should be grateful for our mixed climate.

I have just started another epic. It's about using one's military power to settle private matters. Not a pretty sight but fully justifiable to our hero.

Your excellent story reminds us that people in the south-east of England often had a grandstand view of this historic Battle and were able to recount their experiences for the rest of their lives.

[This message has been edited by Old Dux (edited 06-26-2002).]

Been flying Emils recently for some reason.. Started a Luftwaffe campaign just to see all the aircraft and it's bloody good fun. You get to ride in bombers from take off in France and watch huge air battles, not just get bounced five minutes after mad scramble take-off and hit the silk.


Don't worry. HurriBus beckons soon though...

Folks,

Old dux:

I'm relieved that you have finally put your mailbox where I was sending all that stuff.

As for the montages, if you really wish to know,much is done from scratch, for instance the newspaper was entirely drawn and made up from scratch except for using archive photos and an "edited" photo of SNAFU (I added the Luft uniform and bandages). The caption under SNAFU's photo actually reads "Hitler is full of it!" The cigarette, holder and ash tray were hand drawn as were the desk, carpet, blotter, papers etc.

Most everything is done using PhotoShop. Using PhotoShop's "layers" capability every component can be on its own layer and acted on individually without respect to any others. PhotoShop has the tools to do about anything graphically you have the patience to learn to do. For instance, the "Tobacco Road" selection was made thusly:

A picture through a tobacco leaf was taken with my trusty little digital cam. This was then loaded into PhotoShop. Using that as the background I created the "sun" shining through the green leaf by selecting a suitable circular area and lightening it. The photos taken last weekend in a nearby tobacco field were also loaded in, enhanced and cropped then reduced to fit. I fiddled with the placement until I had it the way I wanted it. Then I added the type and finally the NC state flag from clip art and some drop shadows.

The thermometer selection started with a bright sun and cloud background photo. On this I placed a digital photo of our thermometer reading 100 degrees (F). This was cropped and adjusted for size. Then I added the sunny photo taken of my son and me flying the remote control Spitfire. To that I added a drop shadow.Then I added that lovely photo of me in the pilot's getup to a layer above the background layer but beneath the layer of the photos and thermometer. Next I reduced the pilot photo transparency until it seemed to be far in the background and added a tad of gaussian blur. The text was added and again the NC flag.

The recent "A lovely light" announcement was done entirely from scratch. The picture in the cutout was completely made by me. I used a PhotoShop plugin to create the sky. Then I added my drawings of the roof and the little boy. After that I flood-filled the background using a color picked right from the created photo. Next I made the cutout around the photo using another plugin.

Then I drew the candle body and added its color and the wick. I added a gradient to make it rounded and made the little drip of wax to which I added a radial gradient and a small highlight to make it look wet. The flame was made next and twisted a bit to seem to be flickering. I added the text and drop shadows. Then a smaller flame was placed on the "i". Nothing to it. Aren't you sorry you asked?

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"Blessed are they who expect nothing.
For they will not be disappointed." - Edmund Qwenn, "The Trouble with Harry"

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All,

Sir JR2, I am honored you included me in your excellent work. I am glad I could hold up my end of the bargin. Sir Bader's little secret is out, The Hurri is indeed a war horse.

Everyone who has seen Sir JR2's artwork in emails will agree they are always very good.

Sir Bader, I'm glad your getting a glimpse of things from the other side. The Emil is grand fun to fly and fight. the new multiskins make the 109 model as good or better than any out, bar none.

I have left an attempt at a story below. I hope someone enjoys it.

TALLY HO!

[This message has been edited by SNAFU (edited 06-27-2002).]

14 September 1940
Wissant France

The Last Mission

Sunlight broke through the low hanging clouds which were stationary in the mostly overcast skies. It first appeared to be the kind of day we often hoped for. One not fit for flying. On such days we gathered in the mess or elsewhere, played cards and enjoyed each others company. In many instances those were the last hours we would spend with comrades. This we knew and so the festivities were often raw. It had not always been that way. In July, we felt rather superior. With barely a bloody nose the Luftwaffe gathered up several victorious campaigns and would without much doubt do the same over England. But the ensuing battle was vastly different. Instead of playing a supportive role to the Wermacht we played lead, the main attraction. All eyes as far as Berlin were on us. The battle appeared to be going well. Despite the heavy casualties and loss of aircraft we suffered, the British seemed to have been bloodied much worse. Thier industry was reported to be severely reduced meaning less Spitfires and Hurricanes would be available to rise against us. They were no longer able to run convoys through the channel (although we later learned the shipping had been re-routed, they had not been stopped by our efforts). To us these were signs the end was near. Or so we thought.

Soon after daybreak the clouds broke and the sun spiked through the gaps in the cover. Shortly afterward I was ordered to the briefing room told that I would fly escort for a DO-17 to the port city of Southhampton. The purpose of the flight would be to assess the ports condition with the idea of using it once the Kriegsmarine landed troops on English soil. It was not a good mission but it was not usually terribly eventful and that meant it could be safer than flying a bombing escort sortie over an RAF airbase. I drew my gear and was in the cockpit 15 minutes later. As my Emil skipped across the field I couldnt have known I was on the way to the most intense and desperate struggle of the campaign. I met the bomber just off the coastline and lined up behind and much above his position. The bomber adjusted his course for Southhampton and we began making our way across the channel. As we approached the English side I climbed to 21000 and steered into the cloud line to mask myself from any intercepts. The risks were significant but the British had a habit of putting just two or three Spitfires against our recon missions and in many cases since we had seriously disrupted thier radar net, the missions went undetected. Partly because of that trait, I was surprised and very concerned when over my starboard wing I spotted a full squadron of spitfires heading in our direction. The DO-17 also noted the indians and increased his speed and altitude. I on the other hand slowed to allow the enemy to pass in front and below, hopefully without seeing me. In that I was successful as the British, still in perfect formation turned toward my friend. They were at range three to four hundred and directly in front and below me when I pushed the stick forward and decended on the unsuspecting foes. As the English numbers had greatly surprised me, an escort for a recon flight to a coastal target was unusual. This I am sure helped me move on the enemy without being discovered.

I wasted no time in starting the show, slipping behind the Spitfire second from the left end of the formation and opening fire. Several rounds slammed into the target and he pulled up hard to avoid further abuse. I began a slow slide to the right using throttle and rudder to stay level and racked the lot of them as they were slow to realise their peril and break away. After hitting purhaps eight of them I dove to gain speed and then pulled hard up and right toward the clouds. I reached cover and remained hidden until dropping below the clouds once again as one of the Spits made their way toward the Donier. I left him nicely holed as I passed. He dove away and appeared headed for home. I squinted against the sunglare to regain visual contact with the bomber finding him just then reaching the port amungst a thick coating of flak. I increased speed again and caught an enemy plane as he appeared to be trying to reach the clandestine cover of the clouds above. I fired a long burst from which many of the cannon shells walked across his wing and cut into the engine cowling. Fire errupted, encased in a shroud of black smoke with the telltale whiteish glycol streaming back from inside the smoke plume. I banked right and down, the Emil becoming more difficult to handle at the speeds I was maintaining. That was required in such outnumbered situations. As I dove toward the Donier who was staving off death valiantly againts the three spits that had made thier way to a satisfactory range. I leapt into the fray almost blindly with no target in mind hoping to persuade the RAF fellows to pay more attention to me and not my bigger friend. One did, looping above and then behind me. He opened from the rear and hits began glancing off the wings and tail of my pitching and bobbing aircraft. He remained to my rear for a half of a minute or so landing further hits until I managed to force him to overshoot me. As he peeled off to my left I turned hard right to put as much distance between us as possible. Another Spitfire passed from above me toward the Donier which by now was on the backside of the city and turning for a second pass. I lined up directly to his rear. While that was not my favorite position, I was anxious to impose a penalty on the enemey for pressing thier attack further. I fired and luckily hit him soundly across the wings. He rolled away and disappeared. The Donier, now approaching the end of a second pass, turned to begin a third. My god, I thought, do you not have enough pictures. I am going to be out of ammunition soon, take your damn photos and let us get the hell out of here. Of the twelve indians, I managed to severely damage one and forced two others out of the game with somewhat lesser punishment. The remaining Spitfires, by some miracle decided they had gotten their fill and began to form up to the south. They soon left the area two, trailing smoke and leaving the flak as the only notice that we were not wanted there.

The Donier finished his third and final pass and made for home with full power on. I returned to a position above and behind though no longer cloaked in the clouds. The flight home was completly uneventful short of a brief fire that broke out on the Doniers port engine. I was in grand spirits. I had singlehandedly taken on twelve enemy aircraft and survived. The crewman in the Donier would be able to attest to the savage manner in which I pressed the attack. Faced with such odds I had flown with complete abandon figuring that was the only tactic that may allow us both to make it home. During the entire campaign I had never faced odds nearly as one sided against me. I was proud to have defended the Donier with such fire and that the 5 man crew would be home in thier beds that night greatly due to my effort on thier behalf. When we reached our coast I dropped in off the bombers right side and waved at the smiling crewmen. The pilot waggled the wings of his Donier in thanks for helping him get his ship home. I returned the favor and steered toward Wissant not far away. Once home and safe I thought about the events of the day. It bothered me that we were under the assumption that Britain was all but finshed yet they had sent twelve of thier best aircraft after a single recon bomber. The next day we all recognized what the day before meant. Reacting to our heavist raids of the battle, the British sent up far more squadrons than we thought they had remaining. Our losses were horrendous reaching more than one hundred before night fell. The following day our Staffel and many other formations were withdrawn from France and sent to bases closer to home for full refit and rest. For me and the rest of the Staffel who remained, the Battle of Britain was over. It had begun so well for us, it seemed we were so close to victory.

The cost of our failure would be high and the bill would come due swiftly.





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