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Folks, Looks like Tropical Storm Gustav fizzled on the beaches and the invasion was a failure. He seems to be headed north now though I doubt he will be much of a match for Maryland if he tries again there either. It looks more like he has given up and is headed out into the Atlantic. Thank goodness!  I'm looking forward to a new stroy from Old Dux (and that e-mail too by the way) and another one from SNAFU. More than two paragraps this time please SNAFU.... ------------------ "Blessed are they who expect nothing. For they will not be disappointed." - Edmund Qwenn, "The Trouble with Harry"
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Good news indeed JRT regarding seeing the back of Gustav. Lets hope he stays out at sea. With respect to new stories from Old Dux and Snafu, I second the motion. (pressure, pressure!) 
"you know you've done a wheels up landing when it takes full power to taxi."
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Great storys all.
Well I have to report in that I did not have fsaa enabled when I was playing BOB. Now I have quickinux fsaa on at 1024x24 all settings max. PLayed a big furball quckshot and lowest fps was in the low 20s. Very smooth and there is no evidence of jaggies at all. BOB looks a lot better now. And I had to reinstall because I modded and then when ever it loaded it ctded? Well unmodded it looks great. Thanks to all of you on this board.
------------------ Some of my favorite quotes
" We can't be afraid of the wind" Captain Jonothin Archer Enterprise " We will prevail" President George w. Bush " That would be logical" Vulcans " Right we'll do it the old fanshined way" British Destroyer Captain " Use the force luke" Obi Wan "Fear leads to anger,anger leads to hate,hate leads to suffering." Yoda
System; Amd 2200+ 1024 mb Ram Geforce 4 Ti 4600 visiontek 80 gb hd Asus A7333 mb Sound blaster Audigy xgamer Win xp Dx8.1
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Folks, Canuck51: Indeed, pour the pressure on! TimDog: If you couldn't get BoB to run well on your massive system there would be little hope for the rest of us would there?  ------------------ "Blessed are they who expect nothing. For they will not be disappointed." - Edmund Qwenn, "The Trouble with Harry"
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It's been almost a year since I last posted on here, I'm stunned to see it's still going! JR2 your stories are just as fantastic as ever and I now have over 20 odd pages of them from the other talented writers on here to read through! I humbly submit the details of my first sortie back in the skies of 1940s Britain.  Baptism of Fire Strapped into the cockpit of my spit at 12,000 feet and I'm beginning to think that i'm going to get whiplash the speed my head is swiping from side to side. The reason for my concern you may ask? Well allow me to outline it for you my good friend: One, this is my first ever combat mission and after spending the evening in the pub with some of the more sadistic pilots in the squad I know have a mind full of vivid images of all the nasty ways a pilot (especially an tail end charlie) can kick the bucket in these oh-so friendly skies - thanks chaps! Two, (and this is the one that's really causing concern) we're now actually lower and have apparently flown right through the contact we were hunting down, this means that somewhere - probably above and behind us knowing my luck - is a forty plus group of enemy bombers with all the escort fighters that implies. Beginning to get into my state of mind now? Good, good. Fortunately today though my luck isn't holding true to form and one of our chaps spots a group of 109s at about the same time they spot us and we break into each other. Trumpet lead instructs us to pick our own targets as our two formations of fighters race towards each other. As our formations merge I break up and after a 109 that streaks past so close to my plane that I can feel my teeth rattle. I fire a quick burst as I'm rolling out of the break but the momentum of my turn coupled with my own fantastic gunnery skills sends the shots flying wide and my intended victim immediately half rolls and dives. I've been told a thousand times by my peers that the spit can't keep up with the 109 in a sustained dive but I follow him down anyway. Fortunately he only holds the dive for a couple of seconds before half rolling again and going into a zoom climb. Realising his intention I start my own climb a second earlier and manage a quick snapshot as he passes across my line of flight which peppers his fuselage just behind the cockpit. I settle into the saddle behind him and wait until he fills my gunsights before squeezing the trigger. I'm rewarded with flashes all over his wings as bits of armour fly off in every direction and a thin stream of clear fluid starts to pour from his engine, then i'm flashing past him as he stalls and starts to nose down. I stand my spitfire on her port wing and haul back on the stick and slide in behind him, I can see that he's having difficulty holding her level so decide to help him out by hosing his plane with with a seconds long burst, again my bullets twinkle all along his plane before something at the front explodes and pouring flames and black smoke he streaks towards the sea like a meteor. "Nice shooting Green 3" is the transmission over the RT as I scan the skies. I quickly pick up a 109 harassing one of our hurricanes and race to assist, unfortunately due to my over enthusiasm I completely overshoot and the 109 is now on my six! I haul the stick into my chest and throttle back as I go into a climbing turn desperately trying to shed speed and turn tighter than my opponent to foul his aim. Luckily his mastery of aerial gunnery seems to be equal to my own as his tracers seems to be passing through about every available space apart from that occupied by myself. Looking back over my shoulder I can see him falling away behind me and he to seems to realise this as he suddenly reverses his turn and breaks off. I continue with mine and am astounded to find my opponent flying straight and level in front of me. Thank you very much! I think to myself as I open up on him sending chunks of armour flying from his right wing. He counters by breaking hard snd I break up and above him to stay on his six, using lots of coarse rudder I drop my nose over the front of his plane and squeeze the trigger sending fire pouring into the wing I'd damaged earlier which obligingly breaks off sending him spinning out of control. Checking my ammo I see I only have 53 rounds left and a quick glance around shows an empty sky so I dive for the deck and head home.
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All, Well I you can sure tell when summer is winding down as the stories and discussion here picks up considerably. I love the summer but as it drwas t a close more time for playing and writing affords itself and that is also a good thing. Rainy, Dont be shocked at anything the Few can accomplish including keeping this little thread going. Very glad you came back in and decided to post a story as well. A good one I might add. The following was excellent and my favorite line: "As our formations merge I break up and after a 109 that streaks past so close to my plane that I can feel my teeth rattle." I could see that 109 blast by your windscreen. Very nicely written. Glad you made it home after the Baptisim. They say if you get by the first few missions, your chances of living thru the battle are greatly increased. I hope that is true for you. Sir JR2, glad that ole storm saw it could not possibly win a sustained battle with you rebs and beat a hasty retreat back into the sea. It does not appear to be a threat here I'm glad to say. So you think my last story was too short huh!, funny I would have thought you chaps would have preferred something even shorter when it came to my tales. I'll try to lengthen the next one some but dont forget who instigated it.  TALLY HO!
TALLY HO!
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Gentlemen, By Gad! The stories are coming in thick and fast. Feel rather ashamed actually.  Excellent stuff from everybody!  JRT, I've seen the first class accompanying artwork and found it to be most appropriate. BTW, I was surprised to see that the Snud 14 had received such a technically advanced modification to the dorsal turret. 
'Find your enemy and shoot him down - everything else is unimportant.'
Manfred von Richtofen ---------------------------
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Folks, Every day now it seems we find some new reason to love this thread. New folks are posting and all the old hands (with one "old" exception)are coming back posting their stories. Ok Dux we're waiting...and waiting...and waiting...  Rainy: Thank you for your kind words. Welcome back! What a treat it was to find your story waiting. You firmly held my attention from beginning to end. Please post more stories and on a regular basis. SNAFU: Short or long your offerings are much sought after and always well received. I suspect it is I who would benefit all and sundry who visit here were I to substantially shorten all my stories. Did I hear applause? And shouts of " Atta boy!" I believe I did. ------------------ "Blessed are they who expect nothing. For they will not be disappointed." - Edmund Qwenn, "The Trouble with Harry"
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Bravo Rainy, Well written. I believe I could feel myself pulling 'G's as I read that.
Well then lads, lets order another round, this establishment is far from closing. Rainy has upped the ante again so on with the next story. What are you having boys?
"you know you've done a wheels up landing when it takes full power to taxi."
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Folks, What am I having? I thought you'd never ask chum. I'll have another large glass of Canuck51, followed by a healthy tumbler of SNAFU, all chased down with a cold shot of Old Dux's best. Hurry if you please beerkeeper.  Oh, yes and a chilled magnum of vintage 2002 Chateau Bader for everyone. If I've had my limit by then beerkeeper, just give me another fine bucket of rainy and some non-alcoholic TimDog Fiz.  ------------------ "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 09-11-2002).]
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Folks, If you are of a mind to do so, file this under "stupid, forgetful and red faced". It has come to my attention that I have neglected for months to write the final episode of "Danger Unexploded Pig". I know, you're all completely underwhelmed by this useless revalation, however, I was amazed to discover that after 58 years I've finally made my very first mistake.  OOOPS! Anyway, this morning at 6 AM and before breakfast, the creative juices were flowing so I wrote the final episode and mailed it to OSRAM for posting on the BDG website below the lonely first episode which has languished there alone for too long a time. If you care so to do, check out the story and my final episode. OSRAM will have it up soon I'm sure. There are now four lengthy episodes to that story. Yes, once you've read or perhaps re-read this story you'll no doubt wonder why there was even one episode much less four.  ------------------ "Blessed are they who expect nothing. For they will not be disappointed." - Edmund Qwenn, "The Trouble with Harry"
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Folks, OK, fellows perhaps it's simply too easy for me but writing a story for HWH is surely not all that big a chore for anyone. We've been fortunate to have some new posters this week and some very good ones at that. Has this frightened the old hands away? Surely not. SNAFU, Old Dux....  I fear SNAFU's heart and perhaps his mind have been stolen away by some other interest these days. Say it ain't so SNAFU! ------------------ "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 09-14-2002).]
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I've got another sortie half written for your viewing pleasure/pain - never sure which one of those I inflict.
Unfortunately I can't post with quite the regularity JR2 would like because my only net access for the moment is at my parents house and at work.
Later chaps.
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Excellent, Rainy. Look forward to a good yarn.
"Ah yes, Michael (Parkinson)," Bader replied, "But these Fockers were Messerschmitts..."
BDG BoB Developers Group: Eleven! years of passion for historical recreation of the Battle of Britain.
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Folks, Rainy: Don't worry, I'm a patient man and your stories will be well worth waiting for. I may seem impatient at times however I'm just nudging in a friendly manner the recalcitrant Old Dux and the prodigal SNAFU. I want them to follow Bader's example and post something soon. SNAFU who founded this amazing thread has posted several brief stories since Old Dux has put index fingers to keyboard. We will not mention how many stories I have personally typed since then....that would be considered overkill. They want to post something I am certain of that, it is just that they are far busier than I am and perhaps actually have a life to persue elsewhere.  ------------------ "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 09-14-2002).]
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Folks, Well all this talk of others posting stories got me thinking (yes, it is high time something did). An idea for a possible story has come to mind. As so often is the case these stories flow through my tortured mind during more comfortable times like playing BoB, during hot showers and just before dropping off to sleep. Surprise, I seldom have creative thoughts (except for elaborate curses) when I am uncomfortable or under great stress. Last night an idea sprang into my fertile mind right between a final yawn and total oblivion. I took the story with me to dreamland apparently because when I awakened this morning the story had unfolded as a dream. Now that's the easy way, believe me. If only I can remember the thing and write it all down. As I remember, it all starts with a dark and rainy night, a lengthy session of BoB and a momentarily distracting loud rap at the back door.... No it is not Snoop Doggie Dog delivering the evening paper, the other kind of rap, silly. Ok, who is already nauseous enough to pay me not to finish this story?  ------------------ "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 09-15-2002).] [This message has been edited by Jolly Roger Too (edited 09-15-2002).]
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Folks, Looks like everyone is busy being elsewhere today. And I had all those used thousand dollar bills to give away, too.  Ok, perhaps with this place completely empty it's a good time to brush up on my echoing skills? Here we go then. Hello!..............hello!,hello!,hello! hell..o!,hell.........o!  ------------------ "Blessed are they who expect nothing. For they will not be disappointed." - Edmund Qwenn, "The Trouble with Harry"
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I could swear I heard an echo. Must be all in my head. (Actually that is physically quite possible.)  Did somebody say 1000 dolllar bills? If that is Canadian money, that would be about $1.75. Never mind JRT, just get some sleep and dream up the rest of that story. I'm looking forward to your's too Rainy.
"you know you've done a wheels up landing when it takes full power to taxi."
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Losses
18,000 feet over the channel and we've been vectored to intercept a +40 raid that seems to be heading for a shipping convoy but our controller has warned us of another strong raid in this area so all eyes are peeled and scanning the sky for sign of the enemy.
It's Red 2 as always who picks the enemy up first, about 4 miles in front is a huge box of what appear to be Stukas, scanning the sky around them we see nothing else apart from clouds and far, far below the white wake of the convoy as they steam for Weymouth docks and safety.
A flicker of movement from the cloud bank to my right catches my attention and as I turn my head to get a better look flight after flight of Me110s pour out of the cloud barely a 1000 yards away. Whether through some tactical cunning or just sheer dumb luck they are positioned to deliver a perfect broadside attack on our tightly packed formation. I cry a break warning over the RT but it's to little to late as the 110s open up on us with their deadly cannons and tracer fire saturates our formation like a cloud of angry fireflies. I see my section leaders plane seemingly impaled on a stream of tracers as shell after shell tears into his shuddering craft before it falls trailing flame and smoke, no longer the graceful fighter now but a tattered steel coffin. I shout for him to bail out over the comm but I know that he's done for.
I convert my break up and over the squadron of enemy fighters into a half roll then hauling back on the yoke a dive loop that almost forces me to black out but, as vision returns I find myself a few hundred yards behind them, a quick glance over my shoulder shows a clear sky so I turn my attention back forward.
It's not a pretty sight, the Spitfires that were so recently considering the easy pickings of unescorted Stukas are now fighting tooth and nail for their very survival, I can see that already at least another three of my squadmates have gone down and there are chutes everywhere. Slamming the throttle through the wire I race back into the fray determined to avenge my section leader.
I slip in behind a 110 that's circling above the battle, my first pass explodes both of his engines and as I break up and over him I see the pilot shoving the canopy back getting ready to jump. A half roll and a quick scan around shows a spitfire being chased by two 110s, I throttle back and break in behind the them, a quick burst causes one of the aggressors to break off but the other closes in on the wildly jinking spitfire to press home his attack. I ignore the one that has broken off and again throttle up to close the distance between myself and the other 110. At about 200 yards his rear gunner opens up on me but his tracers slide below my port wing, responding in kind I walk fire up and down the fuselage until the pilot flicks the craft over and goes into a dive, I mimic his maneuver and as we get closer to the deck I squeeze the tit and my Spitfire reaches out to rip his wing off. The enemy pilot never has a chance to react as his plane departs controlled flight and slams into the cold surface of the Channel.
Now tracer fire flashing past my own cockpit tells me I've become the subject of some unwanted attention, I stand my spit on her wing and haul back on the stick going into a corkscrewing climb, as the world starts to lose colour I hold the turn for as long as I dare but at this altitude I can't afford to go into a spin as I'd surely end up having to swim home so I slacken off and glance over my shoulder to see a 110 still just about hanging on to my tail. I reverse my roll and throttle back further stamping on the right rudder I throw my spitfire into a corkscrewing barrel roll forcing the 110 to over shoot but as she does her rear gunner stitches my left wing and the controls suddenly become a lot heavier, using lots of right trim I manage to hold the nose level long enough for me to send the twinkling fairy lights of .303 impacts walking into his left engine. Deciding he's had enough of this rough treatment he dives towards the deck and runs for home. I consider the way my Spit is handling and let him go.
The call comes over the radio to form up and rtb so I set a vector for home and about five minutes later form up with the remains of my squadron. We've been hit hard today, of the twelve pilots that scrambled only seven of us will make it home although we managed to down 16 of the Germans the price somehow seems to high.
[This message has been edited by Rainy (edited 09-16-2002).]
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Wow. Excellent report. The crippling slashing attack by the 110s is particularly good. Very much a BoB combat experience, right to the end.
Super.
[This message has been edited by Bader (edited 09-16-2002).]
"Ah yes, Michael (Parkinson)," Bader replied, "But these Fockers were Messerschmitts..."
BDG BoB Developers Group: Eleven! years of passion for historical recreation of the Battle of Britain.
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J-B Weld
by Terl9999 - 10/02/26 11:54 PM
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