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Unknown_Target
07-10-2006, 12:10 AM
I just wrote this, and I kind of like it...just wondering what you guys thought? I kind of rushed the ending (it's 2:00 AM and I need to get to bed http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_biggrin.gif), and I KNOW that there's no radio operator mentioned - I just couldn't fit him in. Also, any factual discrepencies, well, I tried to keep them out http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif In case you're wondering, the bomber is probably a B-17F or G model, but yea...here you go http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif
-----

"Frank's hit! Frank's been hit!"

Blood splattered against the aluminum walls as Franklin was wrenched from his post and thrown across the small corridor against the other side of the aircraft, his arm smacking Jon across the back of the head. Kolburn snapped around and craned his neck to see around the bulkhead that separated the cockpit from the rest of the mighty bomber.

"How bad is he? Jon, talk to me!"

"I dunno man, there's - there's blood everywhere! We need someone back here!"

A flak burst rocked the B-17, knocking Jon off his feet and sending him into the fuselage panel behind him - Franks blood splashed across the back of his neck and trickled down his spine. Kolburn, up front, turned to his copilot.

"Alex, get back there, I can handle things for now."

His colleague nodded and swung himself out of his seat, bolting to the waist gunners positions and reaching the two stricken comrades with a few strides. Frank was in serious trouble - there was so much blood he didn't know where it was coming from. He ran back to the radio cabin and grabbed a medical kit, then hurried back.

"Hang in there Frank, hang in there."

Another flak burst - then another and another. The massive bomber was knocked about, sending both crewmen into the fuselage. Frank screamed in pain - Alex snapped open the medkit and pulled out a small needle of morphine. Finding a spot on Franks neck just above his vest, he injected him with the whole container. Up front, Kolburn was struggling to keep control. The flak was getting heavier as he neared the target. A reassuring voice crackled from the lead bombers navigator.

"Target five miles out."

The temperature gauge on number four was reading off the scale €" a bit of shrapnel must have punctured the coolant line, and the needle was screaming upward.

"Alex, I need you up here now! Leave him to Jon!"

"Aye sir, on my way!"

Alex clambered back up to the front and buckled himself in.

"Number four's off the scales, we need to shut her down."

"Shutting down number four skipper."

Alex cut the fuel flow to the fourth engine and wind milled the prop. He glanced quickly behind him at Frank and Jon, the former now bandaged and heavily medicated.

"How's Frank?"

"He got knocked up bad - looks like a bit of shrapnel went clean through one of his lungs."

Kolburn nodded and turned back to the flight, queuing his mic.

"Bombardier, pilot, what's our range Tim?."

"Pilot, bombardier, three miles."

Kolburn nodded and turned back to his instruments, mentally counting down the distance. Suddenly a massive explosion took place not ten feet in front of him - instinctively his hand flung to his face, and not a moment too soon - thousands of bits of shrapnel peppered the cockpit as the plexiglass in front of him exploded inwards. Alex was not so lucky - the fearful roar of the flak and the engines was drowned out by a blood curdling scream as the bits of debris buried itself in his face. Blood poured down the front of his flight jacket, his oxygen mask was askew, muffling his sobs of pain.

"Oh ****! Jeffery, get up here, and grab the medkit!"

"Aye sir, on my way!"

"Pilot, navigator, range two miles."

Jeffrey leapt out of the cramped office of the tail gunner in the very back and sprinted down the narrow gangplank, scooping up the contents of the medical kit on his way.

"Alex got a face full of plexiglass - see what you can do for him!"

Jeffery nodded and gingerly lifted the injured copilot out of his seat, dragging him back into the body of the bomber. Gently he lifted his oxygen mask off of his face.

"Oh Jesus..."

He turned away and stifled a gag reflex, then quickly grabbed two needles of morphine and jabbed them one by one into Alex's neck, then proceeded to hurriedly wrap his face in gauze. He turned and shouted to the cockpit, straining to be heard over the whistle of the wind and the loud crackle of the flak.

"Skipper, he's all sorts of messed up, I don't know what to do for him."

"Just get him fixed up and get back in the rear, Jeff, we're almost over the target."

"Yes sir!"

Jeffery turned to Alex's sobbing form, and slowly lifted him up, laying him against the bulkhead.

"Sorry Alex..."

Jeffery turned and ran back to the tail position. Just as he sat down, a sharp rattling sound echoed through the bomber.

"Fighters, three o clock high!"

More machine gun fire was heard, as the entire formation lit up in a dazzling display of light as the enemy bandits closed in for the kill. Kolburn snapped on the mic.

"Nick! You see them?"

"Yes sir, here they come!"

Nick in the top turret had a clear view of the enemy aircraft as they screamed down from high above and to the front. Five seconds...four seconds...three...two...one.
Bolts of living fire lept from his machine guns as he depressed the firing triggers, pumping hundreds of rounds into the blue sky in front of the bomber formation. The fighters reacted immediately, snapping over on their bellies and pulling hard downwards.

"Andrew, they're heading to you!"

"I've got them!"

Andrew kicked the ball turret around with his foot and let loose on the enemy fighters, his bullets zipping past them and smacking straight into empty sky. Two of the fighters, close together, screamed underneath him and opened fire on the bomber just to the bottom rear, cleaving its wing straight off, sending it into a horrific spiral downwards. Crewmen lept from their stricken craft, only to be struck with debris or the aircrafts corpse itself. Only two parachutes opened. Andrew spun back around, only to be confronted with a mass of deadly fire emanating from an enemy Me109. Without even thinking he opened fire, raking the small enemy craft from nose to tail. He turned his turret to follow it, watching it flip over in its belly, smoke spewing from its engine, and begin its dive earthward. He shouted with joy.

"Bandit down, bandit down!"

"Good shooting Andrew!"

"Pilot, bombardier. Range to target, one mile."

"Alright, get those doors open."

"Aye sir, opening doors."

Tim flipped a switch to his side, and a mechanical cranking was heard as the bomb bay doors slowly swung open. Below the hanging racks of explosives sat Nazi Germany. Andrew called out to Jon to alert him.

"Jon, you've got three more incoming on your side!"

"I see them!"

Jon charged the bolt on his machine gun and took steady aim at the incoming threat. Steady...steady...steady - fire! Metal collided with metal as the gun spewed forth its contents - shell casings flew from the gun as he swivelled it around on its mounting, desperately trying to keep the enemy aircraft in his rocking sights. The fighters neared closer and closer, ripping into the side of the bomber with heavy cannon fire - shafts of light pierced the gloom of the interior as the bullets shot through the aircraft's fragile skin. The fighters roared over head and rolled, pulling sharply upward and reversing their course, heading away from the bombers as they began to fly over the target.

"Kolburn, it's Tim, I've got the target in sight and am waiting for the lead bomber to drop."

As if to answer him, dozens of small cylinders began to drop from the formation lead. Instantly, Tim hit his pickle switch, sending thousands of pounds of explosives earthward.

"Bombs away!"

Kolburn rolled the heavy aircraft hard to the left with the rest of the squadron, banking sharply away from the target area. Flak continued to explode all around them as the bombs fell, eventually exploding in a fiery inferno on the ground far below. Kolburn breathed a heavy sigh of relief into his mask as they left the flak zone soon after.

...

The flight home was relatively uneventful. Frank and Alex slept as peacefully as they could, and the bomber landed without any major complications - they were lucky they did not take a hit to the hydraulics. The two injured crewmembers were hurriedly rushed to the hospital, where they spent the next three months in intensive care, to be home soon afterwards for extensive recuperation. Kolburn and the rest of the crew, however, returned to their beds to sleep off the day, thankful to be alive for just one more sunset.

Unknown_Target
07-10-2006, 12:10 AM
I just wrote this, and I kind of like it...just wondering what you guys thought? I kind of rushed the ending (it's 2:00 AM and I need to get to bed http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_biggrin.gif), and I KNOW that there's no radio operator mentioned - I just couldn't fit him in. Also, any factual discrepencies, well, I tried to keep them out http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif In case you're wondering, the bomber is probably a B-17F or G model, but yea...here you go http://forums.ubi.com/groupee_common/emoticons/icon_smile.gif
-----

"Frank's hit! Frank's been hit!"

Blood splattered against the aluminum walls as Franklin was wrenched from his post and thrown across the small corridor against the other side of the aircraft, his arm smacking Jon across the back of the head. Kolburn snapped around and craned his neck to see around the bulkhead that separated the cockpit from the rest of the mighty bomber.

"How bad is he? Jon, talk to me!"

"I dunno man, there's - there's blood everywhere! We need someone back here!"

A flak burst rocked the B-17, knocking Jon off his feet and sending him into the fuselage panel behind him - Franks blood splashed across the back of his neck and trickled down his spine. Kolburn, up front, turned to his copilot.

"Alex, get back there, I can handle things for now."

His colleague nodded and swung himself out of his seat, bolting to the waist gunners positions and reaching the two stricken comrades with a few strides. Frank was in serious trouble - there was so much blood he didn't know where it was coming from. He ran back to the radio cabin and grabbed a medical kit, then hurried back.

"Hang in there Frank, hang in there."

Another flak burst - then another and another. The massive bomber was knocked about, sending both crewmen into the fuselage. Frank screamed in pain - Alex snapped open the medkit and pulled out a small needle of morphine. Finding a spot on Franks neck just above his vest, he injected him with the whole container. Up front, Kolburn was struggling to keep control. The flak was getting heavier as he neared the target. A reassuring voice crackled from the lead bombers navigator.

"Target five miles out."

The temperature gauge on number four was reading off the scale €" a bit of shrapnel must have punctured the coolant line, and the needle was screaming upward.

"Alex, I need you up here now! Leave him to Jon!"

"Aye sir, on my way!"

Alex clambered back up to the front and buckled himself in.

"Number four's off the scales, we need to shut her down."

"Shutting down number four skipper."

Alex cut the fuel flow to the fourth engine and wind milled the prop. He glanced quickly behind him at Frank and Jon, the former now bandaged and heavily medicated.

"How's Frank?"

"He got knocked up bad - looks like a bit of shrapnel went clean through one of his lungs."

Kolburn nodded and turned back to the flight, queuing his mic.

"Bombardier, pilot, what's our range Tim?."

"Pilot, bombardier, three miles."

Kolburn nodded and turned back to his instruments, mentally counting down the distance. Suddenly a massive explosion took place not ten feet in front of him - instinctively his hand flung to his face, and not a moment too soon - thousands of bits of shrapnel peppered the cockpit as the plexiglass in front of him exploded inwards. Alex was not so lucky - the fearful roar of the flak and the engines was drowned out by a blood curdling scream as the bits of debris buried itself in his face. Blood poured down the front of his flight jacket, his oxygen mask was askew, muffling his sobs of pain.

"Oh ****! Jeffery, get up here, and grab the medkit!"

"Aye sir, on my way!"

"Pilot, navigator, range two miles."

Jeffrey leapt out of the cramped office of the tail gunner in the very back and sprinted down the narrow gangplank, scooping up the contents of the medical kit on his way.

"Alex got a face full of plexiglass - see what you can do for him!"

Jeffery nodded and gingerly lifted the injured copilot out of his seat, dragging him back into the body of the bomber. Gently he lifted his oxygen mask off of his face.

"Oh Jesus..."

He turned away and stifled a gag reflex, then quickly grabbed two needles of morphine and jabbed them one by one into Alex's neck, then proceeded to hurriedly wrap his face in gauze. He turned and shouted to the cockpit, straining to be heard over the whistle of the wind and the loud crackle of the flak.

"Skipper, he's all sorts of messed up, I don't know what to do for him."

"Just get him fixed up and get back in the rear, Jeff, we're almost over the target."

"Yes sir!"

Jeffery turned to Alex's sobbing form, and slowly lifted him up, laying him against the bulkhead.

"Sorry Alex..."

Jeffery turned and ran back to the tail position. Just as he sat down, a sharp rattling sound echoed through the bomber.

"Fighters, three o clock high!"

More machine gun fire was heard, as the entire formation lit up in a dazzling display of light as the enemy bandits closed in for the kill. Kolburn snapped on the mic.

"Nick! You see them?"

"Yes sir, here they come!"

Nick in the top turret had a clear view of the enemy aircraft as they screamed down from high above and to the front. Five seconds...four seconds...three...two...one.
Bolts of living fire lept from his machine guns as he depressed the firing triggers, pumping hundreds of rounds into the blue sky in front of the bomber formation. The fighters reacted immediately, snapping over on their bellies and pulling hard downwards.

"Andrew, they're heading to you!"

"I've got them!"

Andrew kicked the ball turret around with his foot and let loose on the enemy fighters, his bullets zipping past them and smacking straight into empty sky. Two of the fighters, close together, screamed underneath him and opened fire on the bomber just to the bottom rear, cleaving its wing straight off, sending it into a horrific spiral downwards. Crewmen lept from their stricken craft, only to be struck with debris or the aircrafts corpse itself. Only two parachutes opened. Andrew spun back around, only to be confronted with a mass of deadly fire emanating from an enemy Me109. Without even thinking he opened fire, raking the small enemy craft from nose to tail. He turned his turret to follow it, watching it flip over in its belly, smoke spewing from its engine, and begin its dive earthward. He shouted with joy.

"Bandit down, bandit down!"

"Good shooting Andrew!"

"Pilot, bombardier. Range to target, one mile."

"Alright, get those doors open."

"Aye sir, opening doors."

Tim flipped a switch to his side, and a mechanical cranking was heard as the bomb bay doors slowly swung open. Below the hanging racks of explosives sat Nazi Germany. Andrew called out to Jon to alert him.

"Jon, you've got three more incoming on your side!"

"I see them!"

Jon charged the bolt on his machine gun and took steady aim at the incoming threat. Steady...steady...steady - fire! Metal collided with metal as the gun spewed forth its contents - shell casings flew from the gun as he swivelled it around on its mounting, desperately trying to keep the enemy aircraft in his rocking sights. The fighters neared closer and closer, ripping into the side of the bomber with heavy cannon fire - shafts of light pierced the gloom of the interior as the bullets shot through the aircraft's fragile skin. The fighters roared over head and rolled, pulling sharply upward and reversing their course, heading away from the bombers as they began to fly over the target.

"Kolburn, it's Tim, I've got the target in sight and am waiting for the lead bomber to drop."

As if to answer him, dozens of small cylinders began to drop from the formation lead. Instantly, Tim hit his pickle switch, sending thousands of pounds of explosives earthward.

"Bombs away!"

Kolburn rolled the heavy aircraft hard to the left with the rest of the squadron, banking sharply away from the target area. Flak continued to explode all around them as the bombs fell, eventually exploding in a fiery inferno on the ground far below. Kolburn breathed a heavy sigh of relief into his mask as they left the flak zone soon after.

...

The flight home was relatively uneventful. Frank and Alex slept as peacefully as they could, and the bomber landed without any major complications - they were lucky they did not take a hit to the hydraulics. The two injured crewmembers were hurriedly rushed to the hospital, where they spent the next three months in intensive care, to be home soon afterwards for extensive recuperation. Kolburn and the rest of the crew, however, returned to their beds to sleep off the day, thankful to be alive for just one more sunset.

WWMaxGunz
07-10-2006, 01:13 AM
Uhhhhh, fighters attacking in the same area where the flak is exploding?

You might find a copy of B17-2 for that inside the bomber action. The consultant was there in
the war as bomber crew from Africa to Italy and then into B-29's in the Pacific. No MP and
the FM lets you get unreal but fly it like it's real and try to deal with not only first aid
but right from the start the navigation and you'll get your stories, like after a long time
spent just learning the real hard parts. The Norden model they have is not 100% completely
real but as it stands, just try it out.

I never did get the nav and sight fully figured. IL2 came along.

Unknown_Target
07-10-2006, 01:23 AM
Yea, I knew about the fighters and the flak screen, but I decided to ignore it as, while it was rare, I did read some bits about fighters intercepting the bombers while the flak was going off - this would be one of those "rare" cases.

R988z
07-10-2006, 12:32 PM
not bad, but shouldn't he feather the prop rather than let it windmill?

justflyin
07-10-2006, 01:19 PM
I enjoyed that, thanks. I felt like I was almost there and hearing the flak and feeling the intensity of the situation.

I had a similar virtual experience flying a mission the other day, when a flak burst went off right next to me and scared the c*rap out of me! It damaged my engine and I had to RTB.

This "game" can get quite intense when flown like they were flown back in WWII. Thanks again for taking the time. http://forums.ubi.com/images/smilies/25.gif

PBNA-Boosher
07-10-2006, 02:19 PM
I have a whole thread just for this purpose:

The Combat Story Thread (http://forums.ubi.com/eve/forums/a/tpc/f/23110283/m/6331000562/p/1)