Top Dog (Ackerman, Nathan)

[Charles Norris]

Terrain: Pluto Field, the landing strip for Dog Company
Time: 14:00
Weather: Sunny and clear, a few puffy clouds commanded total control of the skies, at least for the time being.

Two Supermarine Spitfires, a few hundred yards apart, raced across Dog Company’s airspace. They were twins in every aspect, same paint job, same speed, same altitude, and the same target. Which was a transport plane quickly approaching their position head-on. Normally this fight would be in the Spit’s favor, but the Ablemarle was the only one armed with bullets. What the fighters had, and the transport as well, were red target banners strapped to their tails.

Alone in the transport’s cockpit, Flight Lieutenant Charles Norris watched Butch and Lima‘s approach. They would reach him within the minute, it was time to lock and load.

“Muck to Ground,” Chuck relayed the training flight’s progress to the onlookers down below, “Ready to start Living Firing.“
“Begin Gunnery Target Practice“ came the answer, and the unusually bearded pilot replied with a simple ’Wilco‘ before switching from the main radio to the Ablemarle’s internal one, Terry and Ackerman, ready your guns to fire on the oncoming targets at eleven and two o’clock, low.”

Suddenly, the transport’s side machineguns opened up, and they droned on as the spits disappeared out of the limited field of vision the cockpit offered Charles. Tracers pierced red fabric, but in less then a second, the guns were silent once again. With that part of the training done, Chuck guided the plane into a wide turn, increased the speed, lowered the altitude to 2,000 meters, and caught up with the spitfires. Utilizing a box formation, the three planes lowered their speed to 150 kn, and were ready for part two. Normally for bomber training those big boys were used, but when the only men who need the hours were a young, hotheaded mechanic, who would give anything to become the next great flying ace, but couldn’t pass pilot training, and an older, levelheaded Captain who knew the squadron’s budget on fuel and ammo and hadn’t been in a plane for months, you only needed a transport and some fighters.

Muck to Ground,” Chuck opened the radio again. ” Ready for Bomber Defensive Maneuvers. Kiwi, prepare to attack. Give us hell, Whyte.”

[Cathal Ackermen]

((OOC: will I get experience for this?))

Ackermen had been excited ever since he was told that today, would be the day that Cathol would take off and finally get a chance on the training course once again. The last time he tried it, it was a big fail and the higher ranked officers that watched from below all of the action, wanted to demote Cathol for not showing what he truly had. Another young want-to be pilot, Terry was in the back with Cathol. They both hadn’t known each other for a while but still were anxious to get there wings and be able to finally fly.

Waiting for the message to fire Ackermen load the machine gun with the red and bright green tracers used to take down the “Targets” On the tails and wings of the Spitfire’s that one of them were piloted by Nathan Whyte. Ackermen knew this young gentleman from constantly repairing his planes as he came back from combat. ”Ay’ Cathol.” Terry’s young voice came crossed his radio. ”You think any of them dim-whits down there know anything about flying?”

Cathol chuckled a bit as he checked the Gun to see if it worked and would maneuver around in order to be able to aim it at the other targets. The butterflies were now in his stomach as Cathol knew if he did great in this then he would finally get the rank he needed and become a pilot once and for all. ”Damn it eh’ ‘etter or ill whoop eh’ Ass” Cathol said to Terry. His Irish accent filled the air, and ears of Terry.

Wasn’t before long that the two young aspiring pilots heard the voice of Flight Lieutenant Norris came crossed with Terry and Ackerman, ready your guns to fire on the oncoming targets at eleven and two o’clock, low.” Cathol was now even more nervous then before. He griped the gun’s triggers and began to fire out on the targets. Three out of four down with only one magazine of bullets.

Terry then came crossed with ”Atta boy Cathol scored better then any other time.” Cathol’s heart began to pound and the Spitfires disappeared and then fell into escort position with the Transport plane in order to go on a quick bombing run. Fail at this and you’re finished. Pass with flying colors Cathol and you have your wings.

Nathan then fell into position where he could attack the three men in the Transport plane. Cathol gripped the gun and looked around out of the small window. He took a peek out of it to see the people on the ground that looked like they were pretty excited to see Cathol excel in his second training run. ”Oh dear Celts please assist me in getting my wings.”

[Nathan Whyte]

Whyte watched as the rounds flew from the transport towards the Spitfire, ripping holes in the banner behind it. These gunners were decent, but he still had to be careful. If either of them miscalculated what the other would do, he could end up with a .303 through his head, not something he wanted.

As Chuck finished his transmission, Whyte gave a quick. "Affirmative, Out." This was a personal challenge, he had to inflict enough damage to cripple the "bombing assault" whilst avoiding being shot down himself. He didn't intend on grounding every aircraft, with the odds as they were, he just wanted to get the bomber down, and get out.

He guned the engine of his Warhawk, it wasn't the ideal plane for the job, being bigger, heavier and slower than Spitfires, but he flew it often so he knew it was up to it. He felt the increased vibrations throbbing throug his seat, through his pedals and through his joystick as he teased it downwards, and he banked to his right slightly. The Albemarle was still going through it's turn, and this way he should be able to take advantage of the blindspot of the gun's to the front and above, and then target the still-flailing banner behind it. And if he drew off one of the fighters, so be it.

It was eerie, going in to the attack without the chattering of a wingman to keep him company, to know that he didn't have somebody watching his back, but it was vital he practised on his own, as it was inevitable the shit would hit the fan one day, and he had no intention of going down.

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

The following CP has been issued:

Norris - 2

Whyte - 2

Ackerman - 2

-JT