homepage Forums Air Combat & Civil Aviation Battle of Britain + Battle of Britain II Here's what happened (Continued)

Folks,

JN:

An enjoyable story with a very neat twist at the end. For an old Virginia lad (I was born in Richmond myself)you are really getting the hang of this writing business. Well done. Thanks for posting.

Here is another oldie from the ever expanding archives. An oldie but probably not what any of you lot would call a goodie.

A Cat and Mouse Game
Jolly Roger Two
HWH_Cont_Page 28
11/30/02

There was nothing particularly unusual about the way the cat played with the little gray rodent. Cats catch mice all the time, it is the solemn duty of their ancient race to catch and kill such vermin and of coarse I knew that. However tonight as I watched the squadron mascot toy mercilessly with his tiny captive I felt a twinge of unusual sympathy for the terrified, doomed little rodent.

Here's why.

Dropping out of a friendly cloud after darting in to hide from an aggressive pair of Me110s that had latched onto my sorry coattails I grinned and was sure that I had completely given them the slip.

Congratulating myself on having sent another son of Germany screaming into Valhalla I throttled back and began looking for a friendly Spitfire to tag along toward home with. After looking in all directions the sky was empty of aircraft as far as I could tell.

That is the precise moment that several new holes appeared in my starboard wing and a line of fiery golf balls began zipping past my right ear. My imagined solitude was rudely shattered as a loud crack behind my head caused me to try desperately to draw my head down into my torso while at the same time suck my seat up into my opposite end. That's called a “brown ring pucker” and I am not in the least ashamed to admit that I got one.

Gritting my teeth and expecting death at any moment I flipped the Spit belly up and pulled hard on the control column. Down I went almost in a vertical dive. Behind me two shark nosed Me110s began to follow me toward the ocean below. Alone, almost out of petrol and completely out of ammunition with sure death snapping at my heels I felt like a trapped rat.

Completely on the defensive I used every trick I knew except bailing out to save my life. All I was actually doing was putting off the inevitable unless I got really lucky. I leveled off and began jinking my Spitfire sharply to spoil the aim of my tormentors. They seemed to enjoy the sport and must have realized by now that I was no threat to them unless I exploded in their faces.

At this point they began playing with me just like a cat toys with a mouse, first one then the other took turns making runs on my helpless ride. Most of the time they did not even fire a single shot. They just kept on attacking as if they were going to kill me and then they broke off as I turned into them. Yes, as If I actually had bullets to fire, which I did not.

Finally tiring of the fun or perhaps just remembering an important appointment elsewhere, the cannon fire re-commenced. By now we were down in green stuff and I was trying desperately to find some much taller grass. My engine began smoking and I noticed several important portions of my starboard wing were missing.

I was much too low to bail out, and in great danger of a sudden stall that would be impossible to survive. The smoke from my engine was black now, dense and blinding. Globules of viscous oil began streaming across my cracked windscreen. A high stone wall reared up ahead and as I rose to clear it my engine took another hit and quit altogether. Another loud bang nearly shook my teeth out and all my controls went mushy. The jig, as they say was about up. A passenger now, all I could do was hold on and pray as a newly plowed field loomed just ahead beyond the wind-milling prop.

There was a tremendous crash, everything spun around and around and I remember being completely at peace and thinking the oddest thing. I was sure I was a goner. Since I was in charge of the squadron mascot, a huge ginger tomcat, I wondered to myself who would feed the cat?

Then something nasty next to my left ear went BANG and the little movie playing in my head dissolved to a tiny point of light, paused a moment, flickered and then went completely black.

The memory of my own recent experience with certain death flooded over me and I acted swiftly. Looking to make absolutely sure no one was watching, I bent over and took the big ginger cat by the nap of the neck, forced my thumb and forefinger into the edges of his mouth and allowed the little gray wiggly thing to drop to the floor.

I did not have to encourage the poor creature to run for its life, it was gone in a flash with the great tomcat once again in hot pursuit. Somehow I felt a tiny bit better as I limped off to bed.