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

All,

No Sir JR2, No loss of interest or heart here.

Sometimes it is simply a matter of family and job over play. Also, the USS SNAFU has a problem in one of her engines and that took most of Saturday to address. Damn starter went out on the starboard engine and it took four hours saturday to wrestle the thing out from underneath the tightly tucked in engine. Got it out and to the shop for rebuilding at least.

That and I began installing a broadband network in my home and have had several teeth rattling issues from the start. Still offline and not done yet even. Grrrrrrrrrr!

Rainy, excellent tale of battle with the pesky 110's. I have more trouble with the 110's and Stukas then I do with the 109's for some reason. In any case excellent story sir. I'm glad you are becoming a regular poster here. We need good company and if we get a great story like your last every once in a while all the better. SALUTE!

TALLY HO!

That was weird I posted that on my lunch went to re-read it but it had disappeared, ah well it's there now and cheers for the nice comments, careful though I might get carried away.

Snafu, I to seem to have more trouble with those 110s and Stukas, particularly the latter they seem to be bullet sponges as far as I'm concerned - although the grunting aircrew is amusing.

Folks,

Rainy:

It sounds like you're hooked on Bob and we're becoming hooked on your stories. Well done. The search, the "perfect" setup, the sudden violent surprise attack, the swirling battle, the solemn return home. The BoB adventure can't be stitched together better...not by me anyway. Salute!

Canuck51:

You see what you miss when you slip away even for a moment. Two or three bucks Canadian! Of coarse that's worth a bit more than Confederate and considered real money down here.

SNAFU:

Sorry to hear about the starter. They don't put them in there like anyone will ever need to remove them do they? That's one of the unadvertised benefits of twin inboards.

The broadband network can be tricky too. It might be cheaper and less trouble to sell the house and build a new one around your network. There are still too many security issues with wireless IMHO. I'll bet Sir Bader who is an expert on these matters might lend some assistance. He's a Cisco man you know.

Cisco is on the cutting edge. I'm impressed with their IP/TV solutions for business. The IP/TV 3400+ series servers with IP/TV software offer VOD solutions over a WAN with excellent AVVID technology using the H232 ISDN or IP standard.

I'd ask Sir bader for a hand because he is an engineer and a serious Cisco expert. Of coarse your problems may not be technical in nature, in such cases I'd just ask my wife.

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

Rainy,
a most excellent bit of writing. You have a gift for absolute authenticity in your stories. Great action, and well worth waiting for. I'll be waiting for the next installment.

Not quite sure of the context of the video query here, JR2, though I have no issue with discussing IPTV (It's for live streaming rather than video-on-demand typically, but as with all things it really depends... There are additional techniques for replaying pre-stored content.)

Folks,

Bader:

Actually SNAFU said he was having difficulty installing a wireless home network and I was recommending he ask you (the obvious expert)for some needed help.

In regard to my mentioning IP/TV I was just bragging on what I consider to be Cisco's prowress in the market. Last year I attended a presentation on this very thing at the sprawling RTP campus in Raleigh. Impressive, & also very interesting. I understand the distinction however, at the time Video on Demand was of special interest to me. At the moment it is not.

I have not installed wireless here. The only significant question I myself might want to ask is what is being done to address the security problems attendant with wireless installations.

------------------
"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 09-17-2002).]

Ah, sorry..

Yes, wireless (Cisco's "Aironet" range in the corporate market leader) is a great solution. Cisco's is not cheap for the home market though as its security is good and that costs money...

Wouldn't be without wireless these days. It's invaluable.

All,

Sir JR2, Though I noted I was working on getting a home network up and running I never mentioned it was wireless. How did you know that?

Sir Bader, I may indeed need to call upon you for some help on this if I cant figure it all out on my own. Things seem so straight forward until you get into it and then...well you probably know what I mean.

I am limited to work internet access for now but hopefully with some luck I'll be back online at home soon.

TALLY HO!

JRT,

Thanks for your recent e-mails including the latest shot of that handsome chubby chappie CTM!

I WILL get that other message off very soon...promise!

Story on the way in a few days.

Folks,

SNAFU:

Well having internet access only from work sure explains a lot and must be inconvenient.

Wireless? What else would you be doing? Besides my Momma didn't spend her hard earned cash on those mail order mind reading lessons for nothing. If only I'd finished the course I'd know how my next story ends and even when Old Dux is actually going to send that LONG promised e-mail.

Old Dux:

Patiently waiting. Drum, drum, drum....now the left hand, drum...drum...drum. Concern for you and especially yours has mounted over time to the point of sheer agony so that I now require several large quarts of my special medicine each day. Hic, pardon me. Hurry, I am running out of medicine.

You gentlemen will both be delighted to know that your immortal stories posted on the BDG web site have been illustrated and the illustrations posted. Dux, your additional tales of dear sweet Olga have been posted as well. My final episode of "Danger UXP" was written over the weekend and posted for the first time anywhere. All the stories now have illustrations save 2 which OSRAM has but has yet to post. All of Bader's are up.
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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 09-17-2002).]

I've been lucky in the skies so far and as happens to most pilots I think I began to suffer from a bout of over confidence, realising this I think BoB sent some of Hermans finest to teach me a lesson, so without furher ado I present:

Section Leader (or How fat Hermans boys made me ride the silk elevator)

After our last few sorties the squadron strength has been hit fairly hard to the extent that I with 2 flights and 4 kills under my belt am now considered one of our veterans, as such our C/O has appointed me section leader of green flight an honour I'm humbled to accept but still can't help feeling is slightly ridiculous.

We're patrolling as a second line of defence over London today at about 17,000 feet when we're vectored onto some bandits that have slipped through a hole in the radar net over Weymouth. At about three miles out my number two picks them up at our 1 o'clock position and our C/O leads us into a gentle climb to give us an alt advantage as we scan the skies to prevent a repeat of the mauling we suffered from 110s last time.

As we close range Red 1 instructs B flight - Yellow section and my own - to engage the fighters while they maul the bombers. I tell my chaps to take their safety catches off and dive into a formation of 110s, opening fire on the lead craft at the last second I see strikes along his wing but I flash past his left side and below too fast to see if my shots have had any effect.

I hold the dive for a couple of seconds before hauling back hard on the stick with both hands turning the dive into a sharp climb and making another pass through the 110 formation. Again I aim for the lead german but a gust of wind sends my shots wide and their formation scatters into the fight. Somewhat stupidly, (I still have no idea why I did this) I stay in the climb as my speed drops - perhaps planning to stall turn and drop onto the tail of an enemy plane?? - but I never get the chance as a 110 tailgunner stitches my right wing, glancing in that direction I'm almost hypnotised by the impacts walking towards my cockpit before I recover my senses and stamp on the rudder and roll out of his line of fire.

As my spit levels out I go into a shallow dive to build up speed again and pull a quit split-s to throw off any shots from anyone on my tail while I try and judge the extent of the damage, somewhat fortunately she doesn't seem to badly damaged, although she's a tad twitchy in hard right banks.

I scan around and pick up a 110 chasing a spit, kicking right rudder and pulling back on the stick a bit I drop in behind him but before I get chance to fire he breaks off hard left, I assume his gunner has cried a warning, I throttle back and chase but my closure speed has us almost level and we go into a scissors maneuver, unfortunately as soon as I stand my plane on her right wing she goes into a spin which takes me almost a 1000 feet to recover from.

Heart pounding I go into the tightest turn I can searching for the 110 and pick him up as he comes screaming in behind me cannons blazing. Luckily the tightness of my turn defeats his aim and tracer fire whips through the space vacated only seconds before by myself and my wounded bird. I fall in behind him but again we're very close and scissoring, I manage to snap off a quick burst as he flashes across my nose but despite the twinkling impacts it does no visible damage. Cursing I throttle back to just before the stall warning will cut in and manage to finally slide in behind him. Baring my teeth I start to line him up when a sudden cry from my number two comes over the RT warning me that he has bandit(s?) close in and firing on me. For some stupid reason I ignore his warning and press home my attack.

As I squeeze the tit and watch my tracers reach out for the 110 I see the larger tracers from another german flying past my own cockpit tracking closer, closer, closer and then a huge bang and my spit lurches to the left. Instinctively I stamp on the right rudder to keep her straight but the roll continues. I look to the right but apart from the earlier punctures in the wing I see no other damage so look over to the left and see only sky, my entire left wing has been ripped off by cannon fire and now more shots are passing disconcertingly close to me, looking over my shou;der I can see three 110s jockeying for position on my six.

Several shouts come over the RT telling me to jump and prodded by the cannon shells flying all around decide that this is the best course of action, so pushing the canopy back I climb up out of the cockpit and am ripped away by the wind, seconds later my chute opens and I'm able to watch my beatiful spit tumble, slowly to the earth.

I land - although perhaps that's to subtle a word for the bone jarring crash that accompanies my touchdown - in a farmers field and am met by the farmer himself and some homeguard armed with pitchfors and severe expressions, grinning I tell them I surrender. The farmer bursts out laughing and asks me what happened, I run a hand through my sweat streaked hair and tell him that it's a long story of my utter stupidity, but if he'll let me use his phone to call the squadron I'll be more than happy to tell him all about it over a pint.

------------------
They were in the wrong place at the wrong time, naturally they became heroes.

Folks,

Rainy:

Wonderful! A thrilling ride through deadly enemy formations and then all over the sky as you try to get a kill and shake the devil on your tail. The farmers around here get their fields plowed like that entirely too often.

This was another exciting, fast paced romp. Can you keep it up until Old Dux and SNAFU get back with reinforcements?

SNAFU:

802.11B is fast enough for gaming over your wireless net. That opens some interesting possibilities for some one-on-one combat. Of coarse you've already thought of that.

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

Rainy;
just now read your latest story, thanks for the the thrilling ride. Each story seems to be better than the last, please keep them coming

Folks,

Old Dux:

Drum....drum....drum, now the right hand again, drum....drum...drum. Hummm, this patiently waiting stuff is exactlly what it's cracked up to be. Boring!!!!!

I'll try whistling.....ummm, here goes a lively tune, whissssstsputterthrupp! Perhaps eating those saltine crackers was not a good idea? I'd better try something else.

I could just sit on the porch and whilttle on a sizeable piece of soft pine wood. They say we southerners are supposed to do that to pass the time. Naw, no can do, the wife won't let me play with anything sharper than a toothpick since that unfortunate incident when some unflattering words mysteriously appeared carved in an inapropriate place (on her mom's outhouse). Oooops!

I know, I'll twiddle my thumbs. My thumbs haven't had a good twiddle since I was waiting for the fresh paint to dry on my mother-in-law's new outhouse.

Twiddle.....twiddle.....

They say around here that patience is a virtue. Do not pay too much attention to what "they" say around here. They also say that if your dog doesn't drool equally from both sides of his mouth...........

That means your house trailer isn't level.

I do not claim to be all that virtuous and like my MD friend, Doctor Sophar, the dangerously incompetent quack,...I'm swiftly running out of "patience".
------------------
"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 09-20-2002).]

[This message has been edited by Jolly Roger Too (edited 09-20-2002).]

[This message has been edited by Jolly Roger Too (edited 09-20-2002).]

In the spirit of this thread, I thought I'd throw this tidbit from another game I'm playing out.

Hope you enjoy.....

The Iraqis were a little upset that we were here. Apparently Saddam Insane had learned something from �91 and he wasn�t waiting for us to build up are forces to an unbeatable level. Word came down that an Iraqi tank regiment was headed south and our company of Leo�s and infantry were all that was available to stop them.

The Captain set up an ambush plan, but all I know is that I�m assigned to be his wingman in springing the ambush. That night we got into position, laagered and prepared our ambush positions as best we could. I mean it�s a sandy, desert with a few hills, not too many places to hide.

About 1400 the Captain gets word from Batt HQ that the enemy is only about 10 klicks away. The word goes out and we mount up, and let me tell you I�m scared out of my mind. I made tank commander recently and I just know that I�m going to screw this up.

Time seems to crawl by and to take my mind off of the thought of failing, I started reviewing my TC procedures. I jumped when the radio crackled to life calling out a heavy recon force moving into Blue forces position about three kilometers away.



�Blue force, wait for the artillery to stop before moving into position.� After a few minutes I can see the artillery stop Hill 44 through my Periscope. I hear 3rd Platoon start to move into their firing positions. Trying to look productive and cover my nervousness I move to the hatch and bring out my binonoculars and start scanning the area north of me, even though there is a hill that stops any LOS. In the distance I hear that distinctive CRACK of a main gun, followed quickly by a contact report by 3rd platoon leader.

�Contact, grid 323,782, BMP2, three confirmed.�

Sounds like Blue force is engaging their recon screen. A big part of the Capt�s plan is keeping the enemy blind and forcing him east into our killzone. All of the sudden it sounds like the sky opened up and God hurled down his thunderbolts. Not more that 750m away the Iraqi�s have started shelling our planned firing positions, good thing the Capt kept us on the reverse slope so were out of that hell!

I can�t hear the radio, so I drop down in the cupola and catch that the Blue force has killed the recon screen and that we should be seeing the rest of that regiment soon. Two minutes later the artillery starts to stop so the Capt orders us into our firing positions. I button up and start scanning to the front, while Dieter, the driver, moves us forward. I�m still moving when the Capt�s track cuts loose with a shell, the smoke from the 120mm gun envelopes his tank until he drives through it.

�Batt HQ, Red Leader, contact enemy tanks, grid 358,764.� The enemy is just over the hill and now they know that there are tanks on their flanks, I can expect a warm reception when I crest the hill.

�Gunner, Sabot, Tank!� I yell as I spot a T-72 about 1500m away. We still have a flank shot as the enemy hasn�t reacted to our presence yet!

�Identified, On the WAAAYY!!� Jurgen yells as he send a round downrange. Damn! He put the round long. �Target, tank, reengage!� I can see the T-72 platoon start to turn in our direction. �On the WAY!� I can just see the tracer in the rear of the shot falling right into the hull of our target. ONE KILL!! Only now there are more targets, there must be a company of tanks and a company of APC.

The rest of the battle is somewhat of a blur, yelling at Dieter to backup and move left a hundred feet and identifying targets for Jurgen. After the battle as I walk around my track, I start to shake. On the right front of the turret is a 2 inch deep gash in the armor. Apparently, we took a sabot round and it didn�t penetrate. Sitting down, the shakes start and I can only hope that I don�t ever have that close a call again.

JRT,

Steady with that drumming old chap or you could end up as famous as Gene Krupa! Muhahaha!
Just polishing up 'you know what'!

Wildman,

Good show! Looks like you grilled Saddman's ass but good.

Folks,

Old Dux:

Even if it takes you another 52 weeks Old Boy I will never be in the same class as Krupa or Buddy Rich for that matter. It is a most pleasant day dream however and I thank you for evoking it.

You know, I did play in a R&R band when I was a teen and guess what instrument I played? No it was certainly not the comb and paper or the triangle.... I played the drums you impertinent sod.

Yup, I had a gorgeous full set of red sparkle Ludwigs, high hat, tom tom and all. Sold them when I became engaged the first time. The things you do for love...sigh, and we never tied the knot!

A story from you, any story at all, has always been and always will be well worth the wait.

Wildman:

Exciting and illustrated too. We don't get many illustrated stories do we Dux? Your story rumbled along like a novel my son and I read and re-read on occasion titled "Team Yankee". If you are into "really heavy metal" I recommend it highly. It isn't about the Gulf war or WW2 yet I think you'll like it if you're into modern armored warfare. Post something again soon.

I can't get over the quality of the posts coming from these new folks SNAFU. If we old hands slip right off the radar screen right now we would leave "HWH" in very capable hands.

------------------
"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 09-20-2002).]

Folks,

Ok, Old Dux:

I'm going to take pity on you and give you a very useful tip. This is what works for me on the truly odd occasion when demand for a new story exceeds the ability of production to deliver. When was that? Hmmmm. Memory seems to fail me.....

First, settle into your favorite leather bound cockpit and fly one or two exciting BoB missions. No, do not bother with any less than exciting missions. After this, calm down and reward your safe return from combat by getting a tall and frosty mug of your favorite beverage, perhaps a sandwich or two and some chips. As you gobble up the goodies recall your exciting missions and consider what your story should be.

Finally, after cogitating and munching, cogitating and drinking, cogitating and just sitting, for a lengthy spell, an interesting title will probably come to you.

Once this happens, set the empty mug down, Place the scattered food tray on the floor where your wife will either have to trip over it or pick it up and take it away. Wipe the flecks of foam from your lips, the crumbs from your lap and after sucking each greasy finger type a few hopeful sentences.

Isn't this easy? Now string those sentences into two or three short paragraphs. We're almost done! Once all is complete to your satisfaction there is only one thing more to do. Directly below your three short paragraphs type the following message: "To Be Continued"

After several hours of drinking and munching it takes about ten minutes tops to finish episode 1 of whatever and Bob's your uncle. In other words, you've bought yourself a week or two to snooze before you have to start drinking, munching and eventually actually typing episode 2. Ok, stop protesting! You don't have to wait that long before resuming the munching and drinking unless you really wish to.

What's that, you say I've wasted your time since this was your master plan all along?

------------------
"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 09-21-2002).]

[This message has been edited by Jolly Roger Too (edited 09-21-2002).]

PER ARDUA AD ASTRA

My hands are clasped firmly around the lamp post about three feet from its base.
My feet, about 2 yards away, are at the opposite end via my sagging body which is about thirty degrees from horizontal.
I am unable to get a grip with my scraping, slithering feet and slowly but surely I am losing the strength in my hands.
Seven pints of Bass, three Whiskey 'Macs' and a Yates' 'Blob' have done their deadly work and I finally succumb to the law of gravity and flop heavily on to the pavement.

On my twelvth birthday I received a telescope from my parents, complete with tripod and 'Guide to the Stars' booklet. Soon, I mastered the basics of amateur astronomy.
While my peers amused themselves with such jolly pastimes as raiding the allotments of gardeners, tying string to doorknockers and cheering on their heroes at the local fleapit; Hopalong Cassidy, Buster Crabbe and those kings of cretinism - The Three Stooges, I was setting up my portable observatory in our garden.

So now I lie here on my back and despite the glare from the spluttering gas mantle, the constellation of Auriga is easily identified with its main component blinking mockingly at this supine representative of Earth's 'civilised' society. Do planets revolve around that distant star. Can they support intelligent lifeforms? Do they know we are here and do they care? What would they think of us, fighting our second global conflict within a generation.
How I wish that I could be transported to the year 2000. Surely by then we would have settled all our differences and wars, famine and disease would be but dirty words from a barbaric past? Surely by then we would have become dwellers among those 'broad sunlit uplands' that Churchill himself had promised a few weeks ago?
How could it be that in just over a week our squadron, initially fresh from 12 group reserves had been so brutally reduced to stand-down status?
Tonight we have celebrated both our personal survival and our forthcoming refit at 'somewhere in England'- and then on to God knows where. But we are the fortunate ones for we have endured and come through, unlike the other poor devils.

Was it only yesterday morning that I stood on the station platform? The train pulled away to leave us shrouded in drifting smoke and steam - shot through with shafts of sunlight which gave an eerie and unearthly appearance to our flickering spectral forms. Within seconds, most had dispersed until only two were left, bearing items of personal luggage and squinting enquiringly towards me against the low morning sun.
They were the replacements I had come to collect, having unofficially 'relieved' the duty driver while we were reduced to half hour readiness. In the few minutes it took to return to the airfield, I had learned as much about them as I needed to.

Bayliss had been an LAC air gunner in the middle east during the thirties, flying over Iraq and other exotic places on numerous policing operations. Now, as Sargeant, he proudly wore the covetted pilot's wings as does P/O Mantell his companion. Between them they only had a dozen or so hours on Spits which at this time was no more than I expected.
They came from quite different backgrounds both educationally and socially.Their Durham and Berkshire accents somehow managed to weave the English language into a verbal portrayal of their hopes, fears and aspirations. They seemed to have much in common but also displayed a joint feature that neither would have been aware of. I had seen it many times before; their faces bore the mask of death.

God knows how they got through those first two scrambles but they did. Mantell was all over the place and his survival through that first day must rank alongside the war's great mysteries. Bayliss did rather better with a JU88 reported damaged.
It couldn't last though....knew it wouldn't....and besides, I had other things to think about. Like half the bloody Luftwaffe.
On the second day we were scrambled late and got bounced while attempting to gain height up-sun to the west. The Jerries were already there - even further west and higher. We barely knew what hit us, and that was the last I saw of our replacements.

'Don't know what the soddin' raff's cummin' to! DFM n'all! Alright...let's gerrim on 'is feet! In the light of the gas lamp where the constellation of Ursa Major had just been, stood two of the biggest khaki clad men I had ever seen.Each brawny figure was topped with a distinctive red cap, the peak pointing almost vertically down to hide the eyes in a most intimidating and threatening way.
Redcaps have not gained their fearsome reputation by being benevolent. Despite this they dropped me off back at camp and into the care of the duty officer...taking care to circumvent the dreaded guardroom.

Another Spit squadron arrived just one hour ago and the remnants of ours will shortly depart in the Bombay transport. After that, I will be saying farewell to those with whom I have faced so many dangers. They will be the nucleus of a new squadron who who will fight on until - God willing - the Luftwaffe raids and the threat of invasion are overcome. Those in higher places have decided that for the time being at least, my services in France and throughout many weeks of this mainland battle, have qualified me for a rest in Australia as instructor. This is almost unbelievable. It will be difficult to adjust to days that are not shrouded by the constant fear of eternal oblivion. I will be able to refresh my boyhood fixation with astronomy and a completely new panoply of stellar objects in the southern hemisphere star fields; Crux and the Great Magellanic Cloud spring to mind! I am mentally polishing my old 'scope already!

Strapped in our seats, the Bombay lumbers along, slowly gathering speed past the hangars and parked Spitfires of our successors. Then they are left behind as we lurch and sway upward and towards the north-west and whatever else the war has in store for us.

The twelve foot diameter propellors, starved of thrust from the now silent Hercules engines, windmill to a halt. We scramble stiffly from the Beaufighter and exchange muffled and weary comments with the groundcrew as we stumble around in the gloom.
The first faint smear of a forthcoming dawn has yet to define any shape in the surrounding Cornish countryside. We can just make out the shape of our squadron's Mosquitos that we are in the process of converting to. Although I am much impressed with them I still take a 'Beau' while they are still on line because no other aircraft has conveyed to me such strength of power and purpose. Tonight we have destroyed our second E/A this month; a Do217 follows a JU188 we cobbered earlier, both near Lorient.
I had time to pull alongside the fiery coffin to give my new AG a chance to blood himself with his pair of belt-fed Brownings.
Taking off a glove, I run my hand along the greyish rime on the nose of a Mossie and its cold icy chill tells me that this is the first October frost.

The sky is a brilliant panorama of stars, and whatever dim illumination there is come from them. Almost directly above is Vega and its light strikes both retina at one hundred and eighty six thousand miles per second.

When this war is over, providing I am still above ground, all this will be my chosen path.





[This message has been edited by Old Dux (edited 09-22-2002).]

All,

You guys are just amazing. The recent stories are some of the best ever posted on our wonderful little coffee klatch here.

Rainy, another fabulous tale of the dangers and grind of the air battle. Your realization that your Spit was a wing short reminded me of similar occasions. Just as you think you cant be beat, an enemy pilot shows you the door. Just a fine romp. SALUTE !

Wildman , your account, born from the bloody sands of the middle east is most welcome, eagerly accepted and totally enjoyed. And complete with photos of the action. Very wells fought and written. Besides, anyone who likes to spend their time kickin hell out of Sadaam is ok with me.

And Old Dux, you my friend, have created what I must say will be considered another HWH masterpeice. The story told was right from the battle and was easy to picture in my mind. especially this part

"Was it only yesterday morning that I stood on the station platform? The train pulled away to leave us shrouded in drifting smoke and steam - shot through with shafts of sunlight which gave an eerie and unearthly appearance to our flickering spectral forms. Within seconds, most had dispersed until only two were left, bearing items of personal luggage and squinting enquiringly towards me against the low morning sun.
They were the replacements I had come to collect, having unofficially 'relieved' the duty driver while we were reduced to half hour readiness. In the few minutes it took to return to the airfield, I had learned as much about them as I needed to."

I can see the young faces that within a short time will be with their maker. Shows the tragic consequences of the conflict.

You have placed the heat directly on me to get a decent story out but more importantly you have left us all an absolute gem.

Sir JR2, you were quite right a while back when you noted HWH would be quite vibrant even if us ole veterans were no longer here. These new boys are good. Real good. That said, we ole fellows will be here. Flying and writing as always.

I have triumphed over the wireless beast that overtook me for some time. I am now coming to you live from my desk over the wonderful wireless network I was able to build. It works really well and the cable modem power is awesome. Downloaded a game patch of 15 megs today in about 2 minutes. I learned a lot from the experience so I guess overall the time spent was worth it.

Sir JR2, you may recall the USS SNAFU had starter troubles on her starboard engine. NOPE! Turns out the motor wouldn't turn over because it was full of water on the right side cylinders. Damn head gasket or cracked head we now fear. More later this week. Grrrrrrrrr!

We will be out of action for a bit I'm afraid. Shame. Fall is our favorite time to boat. All is so calm, quiet and lovely.

Well, you all may not be, but I am excited about being back online and able to join in the fun and frolic here. Time to go play

TALLY HO!



[This message has been edited by SNAFU (edited 09-22-2002).]