Don't read this unless you have 10 minutes

[Zak33]

It's taken me a little while. It struck me that the entire IL-2 thing has bitten most of us quite hard. Me....I got it bad

So by all means take the pi$$, and even tell me if you enjoy it.

[Zak33]

Darkness, pure and deep, and a rain that penetrates your heart. This is the Russian front, a November in WW2.

The deep, powerful throb of the gutsy AM38 engines hauling their burdens slowly along the grass runway, and the off-key screech-groan of the overburdened brakes, filled the damp air. Please, God, we get to use these brakes again tonight. The Squadron formed slowly on the runway.

Fifteen minutes earlier, two personnel trucks had driven quickly along the out-field perimeter track and delivered the pilots to their planes. The rear canopy of the nearest truck had been flung open, and the pilots had jumped quickly down into the muddy grass, and then ran, full tilt, toward their planes, rain slickers held over their heads. As they closed to within 3 strides of their planes, the rain slickers had been abandoned and each pilot, to a man, had hurdled onto the wing, dived into the cockpit, and slid the canopy shut. Each pilot knew only too well that rapidly, the weak cabin heaters, plus their own body heat, would create terrible humidity in the tight confines of the cockpit, and then the hated condensation would occur, on the windscreens, and finally they would be virtually blind. Dry flight suits, the only way to fly. See or die.
But, in total contradiction to this, the second Squadron truck, open to the elements, and full of hardened, rain soaked Russian gunnery men, deposited it’s cargo of drenched airmen, who shared a quiet laugh together, shook hands, and each slowly walked to their respective plane. They clambered into the rear, open gun position, sat in the wet puddle-chair, and tried only to keep their cigarettes dry. Why hurry? Water was the least of their troubles. High speed, super chilled wind would be the enemy soon enough. And shells. The orange glow of these men’s cigarette’s were visible to the pilot in the plane behind, a peculiar comfort in a world of nerves and cold.

Never before had such a diverse Squadron existed. Brought over from Britain earlier in the year, and then dropped into the Russian IL-2’s to become accustomed to this air born tank, the “Marlins” as they were known, had amazed, surprised and slightly concerned the Russian authorities. Each man was paired with a Russian born Rear Gunner, local men capable of withstanding the extremes of weather. Teams were formed, alliances created, and The Marlins worked hard. The learning curves were steep, and some pilots shone very quickly. Each brought a certain something, and teams like that are hard to forge, but the Marlins were polished and honed, deep in Russia. Wet, damp, cold Russia. The pilots could not explain the reason they were chosen, but to a man, the job in hand was evident as soon as they arrived. Absorb the character of this “flying brick”, learn her intricacies, push her hard, and do it as soon and as well as possible, because the Luft Waffe were pressing the Russian borders with seemingly invincible might, and a strike was needed. Moscow was going to throw these armour-plated beasts, low and hard at the Germans, and blast a shock wave to Hitler’s soul.

Now they sat there, instruments checked, maps strapped to legs, and the Squadron watched the blackness through their canopies, waiting for something, anything, to show the way the weather might turn. This mission would be fast and low. Rain would be the cover they needed. Tired, wet German eyes, late at night, would be more likely to miss them. The drumming of rain on metal German helmets and vehicles may cover the drone of the powerful engines. The IL-2’s had been painted black, and the service crews, who now scampered around the planes, picking up the discarded rain-slickers, checking rocket racks and greasing barrel muzzles, shouted to each other, laughing and joking in the rain. Laying in the wet puddles and wiping rainy oil from their eyes, inspection torches held between clenched teeth, they worked a labour of love. These planes were Mother Russia’s children, they wanted them back, victorious and complete.

Cabin heat was coming through now, and the crackle of the radios blended with the distinct smell of the IL-2’s interior. Each Marlin felt comfort, in varying degrees, with their new aircraft. Rain splattered on canopies. Tension was building. The I-153 recon plane that had returned earlier this week, peppered with infantry rifle holes, (and the pilot sporting a hole of his own, in his bloodied leg), had reported on the huge tank assembly that was massing to the southwest. The rocket toting bi-plane had been dragged into recon service to accompany a pair of ancient Yak 1’s for the mission. The Yaks had gone high, rich fuel mixtures pouring trails across the sky over the enemy lines and had then turned tail and fled once a flight of 109’s had spotted them. The I-153 had gone in low, slow and quietly, while no one noticed, searching, looking, spotting, photographing. It had nearly collided with a half-built tower in a deep, foggy, valley. Likely to become a radar and spotting tower, in the very near future, the I-153 had made a note, taken a dim photo and was just running for home, when the pilot spotted a huge amount of slightly off-coloured greenery. One more photo and he was heading for home, while German soldiers shot from their tents with rifles and pistols. That one photo was worth the bullet wound. This was huge encampment, posing a massive threat to the close by Russian front. Tanks of every kind were identified from his photograph, concealed by netting and dead shrubbery. And more were due.

Each pilot, now sat in his plane, heard the roar of the lead plane, and watched as it dragged it’s massive airframe away, along the runway, and then in the magical way of plane, it lifted away from Mother Russia’s earth. The Marlins prayed, together, the same words forming in each of their minds.

“Please…..don’t let Zak get lost again “

[Nick]

Now THAT was unexpected and completely cool too.

Mate, I didn't know you had the makings of an author in yer!

TOP!

[Skii]

You should write for a living m8

planes r0x0rs

[Zak33]

I quite enjoyed it

Thought it up while walking the dogs. Its the build up to a campaign that I would like Hat to host one day. A night flight. Black IL-2's. I had a nightmare trying to think of a way of having rear gunners. Its heavily IL-2 influenced. Its all I know, so its probably badly innacurate. But I wanna build a bit of atmosphere for the games. Just sad I missed last night.

I am thinking of doing Biogs of all the Marlins. What ya think?

[Dakaras]

ROFLMAO

Thats great love it Nice Mr WordSmith

[Nick]

Biogs of the Marlins?

Didn't we have a thread once, pre-hack, about MArlins names and their meanings...

iirc, doing 'a Dak' was planting the plane firmly in the ground, sans wings.

'a deckard' was bailing out for no reason at all (other than pushing the wrong button)

'a Skii' was turning the power off at the crucial moment.

'a Trig' was just being an ugly, smelly goit with no friends and a set of weeping boils.

[Cesium]

That was brill.
and i like the sound of Hat making that night mission witht the black il2's

[[GSV]Trig]

My boils dont weep

[Zak33]

they bloody DO......Knoxxy told me

[Nick]

No mate, knox was drugged and confused... that weren't his boils oozing...

[Knoxville]

I blame it all of the ketamine tbh

[Tumble]

Zak - you should write my mision briefings for me... Took me an hour and a hlaf to write a few lines the other night (they're good lines, just hard come by).

Marlin-bios would be a brilliant idea tho... and the definition of a "Dak" should be altered

[TiG]

Thats great writing Zak, However i'm not sure about the BIO's. I think there could be some questionable comments in some

Dak's would have to include how he somehow forgot to fill his IL2 up with ammo before he went on a mission

TiG

[Dakaras]

Originally posted by TiG
Thats great writing Zak, However i'm not sure about the BIO's. I think there could be some questionable comments in some

Dak's would have to include how he somehow forgot to fill his IL2 up with ammo before he went on a mission

TiG

I didnt forget!!!!!!