It's been a long time since the last time I read your stories...to much to do by my side...

here's what happend, but pleas don't notice pronounciation or style, I'me tired

A 109 in the gunsight!
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The meteo has been great these days, so we've made many patrols at the 151st squadron.
We are tired and stress is increasing. If it could rain a bit, we may have some rest.

05h12. Time to go... I have a patrol with John, the leader, and Peter.
We're taking off in the screams of our merlins engines and th mornings fresh air. Immediately, we climb heading 125. Once at 15000 feets, I bank my aircraft right and left to have a final look at the land running under our wings...who knows, it may be the last time...
I forget a bit about the repeted noise of my mighty engine and have an other check around me and in the cockpit, OK, everything is in place.

"Turban Leader, Turban 3. Bandits 2 O'clock low. Heading west". Peter have seen four gerries and we are well placed...What a luck!
"Turban Leader, Safety catches off. Choose your target". we bank our planes to the left to dive on our preys. Eagles vs Falcons, Emils vs Hurricanes.
With the dive, we reach a good speed and are just slightly behind and bellow unaware germans, the perfect place...
I aim the plane to the right, John, the leader, and peter the number 3.
My target is growing in my gunsight, it's like training. I adjust my aiming and, at the moment I was going to shoot, the 109 breaks violently and dives.
His leader has just fallen from Johns fire. revealing our position. I try to keep my prey in my field of view but distance is increasing rapidly.
I reduce throttle and observe him manoevering. As he begins to climb, I engage a tight turn to the right. I'm pushed into my seat and feel the G's increasing, my breath is difficult. He's trapped, he can't escape. I restart to manoeuver and align my .303 on this yellow nose. My foot pushes opn the yaw and the Emil is like bound to the dot of light of my gunsight. "Now, shoot!". I squeeze the trigger for a short eternity and see a river of lead and fire intercepting the 109 at the end of a gracious curve.
The german plane is like a butterfly in a candle and sparkles are borning on this fuselage.
Sudently a strong explosion shakes me as the doomed plane's wing tears off."glups" some inches closer and I would have "eaten" this wing.
I half roll my plane to look at the thing that was a plane just seconds before and I see a dark dot detaching, then a chute oppening. For that gerry, the war is over.
Peter has also beaten his adverssary and the fourth runs quickly back to France.

Once returned to base, we execute a wonderful victory roll in formation...

...I'll finaly paint my first black cross on my Mighty Hurry.