Post by Tomatow on Sept 11, 2015 19:43:58 GMT
So for those of you unacquainted with the game Rise of Flight, it is a WW1 combat sim that pretty accurately replicates the planes and their flight models. Anyway on to the story. There I was flying at about 1.5 KM altitude (about 4500 feet I think) in my Fokker D.VII over the British side of the lines. The sun was setting and the snow would soon make the light blinding. I was preforming my last sweep over the enemy aerodrome when they flak gunner started shooting at me. Now this is a quite normal occurrence and they usually tend to make a lot of noise and frighten new pilots but that's about it, so I didn't think to much of it. I was looking over the side of my aircraft and as I swung my head around to the left to scan for enemy aircraft to my high 9 o'clock I witnessed the last thing I ever want to see happen. A flak shell exploded right about where my wing used to be. Now this got my attention. After assessing the situation for a few seconds I discovered that my instincts has saved me and I had already corrected for losing a bit more than a quarter of my lifting surface on one side. I also discovered that, in a slightly Monty Python esque way, I wasn't dead yet. I fact I even had some roll control left from my remaining right aileron. Thus I began the most intense gentle downward spiral I have ever preformed. About halfway down a British scout (an S.E. 5a for those familiar with the period) came up behind me, probably very curious as to what the hell I was doing trying to spiral down and land at his airfield. Then he noticed my supremely stricken position and mercy of mercys didn't shoot me in the head (thank you unknown se5a pilot). There I was about 100 meters off the ground when I rediscovered my genuine hate for the British anti air artillery corps (or whatever their called) as they proceeded to shoot me a second time, wasting not only the kings pounds of money, but probably some pounds of my blood to (ok maybe not THAT much blood, but they're still (expletive)s). Surprisingly my Fokker was holding together just fine excepting its lack of certain wings and I honestly though I could stick the landing at high speed for increased control surface control and to supplement my lost lift. As I straighten out to enter a final for a field the British played their ultimate trump card. Using their good old british humor they planted another shell straight into my top right wing an only remaining control surface. Luckily my wing only strated to peel away this time and wasn't completely blown off. So i was able to keep hte plane just level enough to bump the wheel down, once, twice, thi.. BLOODY GOPHERS. One of my wheel caught and the plane flipped over with me inside it. Even though my landing was less that perfect I survived and as long as you can walk/crawl/get carried away by British medical services to be handed over as a POW, is a good one.
Link to the video below
www.youtube.com/watch?v=maeSAjYPh1w
The fun starts at 1:12:40 ish Oh and headphone alert I might yell A bit (both in surprise and triumph)
Link to the video below
www.youtube.com/watch?v=maeSAjYPh1w
The fun starts at 1:12:40 ish Oh and headphone alert I might yell A bit (both in surprise and triumph)