Post by Furey "Blondie" Campellone on Dec 24, 2010 14:17:20 GMT -5
The Vought XFU5, better known as the flying pancake. There were only two of them currently in existence. One was currently in the United States, doing more research, while the other one was currently being flown by the Ace of the Skies, Furey Campellone, for “combat testing”. Today, He’d shot down a Single Messerschmidt BF-109, and he’d done it spectacularly. He could still see the image of the Pilot’s face as he stared at him. He’d clearly known about Furey, most of the Luftwaffe knew of the Italian Pilot flying American Aircraft and earning his Ace-Hood position in 1942. Now it was 1944, and he had 12 kills under his belt. Make it 13.
Now, Furey was flying over an endless forest, a beautiful blue sky above him had made today a great day for himself and his men to score a few kills. He looked to his Left, and to his right, as he continued on his route. He was being guarded by Two of the best men in his Bomber Command, Captain Hal Shook, Flying a P-47 Nicknamed the “Rae”, and Lieutenant Howard Currann, flying a P-47 nicknamed the “Kansas Tornado II”. Furey had to slow his plane’s speed down, because he was loosing them. At 550 Miles Per Hour, with a Service Ceiling of just over 35,500 feet, this plane was the most promising plane He’d ever flown; The fastest propeller plane in the whole of the Allies armory.
'Boy, this damn thing is fast, I never get over it.' Furey said to himself as he continued along, monitoring the Skies over France carefully. With its two, Large Engines, and a slim body which was armed to the teeth with Four 20mm Cannons, and a possible Bomb load of two thousand pounds(None currently being carried), while still maintaining a speed Above Five Hundred Miles per Hour was simply incredible.
The one mistake he’d made, was the mistake he hadn’t made since Training. He’d flown his plane too far, and hadn’t the fuel to make it back to his airbase. He cursed himself every step of the way back as he watched his fuel gauge continue to come closer and closer to empty. His Wingmen would be able to make it back home, they had external fuel tanks, but He wouldn’t, no matter how much fuel he tried to save.
There were only one hundred miles between him and his Air-Base now, and the red light for emergency fuel reserves went on, causing Furey to curse himself. With the red light on, He knew he’d only have Fifty Miles left, still halfway away from his Airbase. He looked over to his right, And nodded to Captain Shook, saying “Alright boys, I’m almost out of fuel. I’ll try and find a place to touch this baby down. Im not giving her up unless I have to.”
“Roger that Major. We’ll fly with you as far as we can, and report where you go down.”
“Roger that.”
Furey maintained control as long as he could, flying higher into the air to save fuel, the less air there was, the less drag, and that resulted in lower fuel consumption. He Continued as far as he could go, before we witnessed his left engine sputtered, and slow to a stop. Soon after, his right engine repeated the actions of the left, and His plane began to lose altitude, turning into a glider aircraft. Furey Held onto the wheel of Plane as hard as he could, his luck turning up as he saw a large, Tree-less field ahead of him.
“I’m landing up here boys. Report it to the Recovery group!”
“Roger that sir! See you on the other side!” His lieutenant spoke through the radio. Furey waved to Captain Hal in the Rae, then Lieutenant Currann in the Kansas Tornado, before turning his aircraft towards what was now clearly a Military Base, barracks coming into view and soldiers running left and right.
The Two P-47s sped away from him, tipping their wings in salute to him as they flew over the Base. Furey carefully directed the Base, his mind and body still tense as he flipped the landing gear switch down. As the plane, still moving quickly but engines off, touched down on the ground and sped past what he identified, with almost un-parallel joy, as Allied Soldiers of what he assumed was an Armored Division, Sherman’s and even a Pershing driving around. He didn’t know yet that it was the First Armored Division.
As the plane slowly came to a stop in a large field occupied by only a few soldiers, Furey nodded to himself, happy that at-least he’d kept his plane un-damaged and in Allied Hands. He pulled off his Oxygen Mask, and threw open the door of the Canopy, before un-buckling himself, and sitting there, attempting to catch his breath as he heard soldiers yelling and vehicles making their way over to his plane. This was probably their first time ever seeing a plane even remotely like this.
Now, Furey was flying over an endless forest, a beautiful blue sky above him had made today a great day for himself and his men to score a few kills. He looked to his Left, and to his right, as he continued on his route. He was being guarded by Two of the best men in his Bomber Command, Captain Hal Shook, Flying a P-47 Nicknamed the “Rae”, and Lieutenant Howard Currann, flying a P-47 nicknamed the “Kansas Tornado II”. Furey had to slow his plane’s speed down, because he was loosing them. At 550 Miles Per Hour, with a Service Ceiling of just over 35,500 feet, this plane was the most promising plane He’d ever flown; The fastest propeller plane in the whole of the Allies armory.
'Boy, this damn thing is fast, I never get over it.' Furey said to himself as he continued along, monitoring the Skies over France carefully. With its two, Large Engines, and a slim body which was armed to the teeth with Four 20mm Cannons, and a possible Bomb load of two thousand pounds(None currently being carried), while still maintaining a speed Above Five Hundred Miles per Hour was simply incredible.
The one mistake he’d made, was the mistake he hadn’t made since Training. He’d flown his plane too far, and hadn’t the fuel to make it back to his airbase. He cursed himself every step of the way back as he watched his fuel gauge continue to come closer and closer to empty. His Wingmen would be able to make it back home, they had external fuel tanks, but He wouldn’t, no matter how much fuel he tried to save.
There were only one hundred miles between him and his Air-Base now, and the red light for emergency fuel reserves went on, causing Furey to curse himself. With the red light on, He knew he’d only have Fifty Miles left, still halfway away from his Airbase. He looked over to his right, And nodded to Captain Shook, saying “Alright boys, I’m almost out of fuel. I’ll try and find a place to touch this baby down. Im not giving her up unless I have to.”
“Roger that Major. We’ll fly with you as far as we can, and report where you go down.”
“Roger that.”
Furey maintained control as long as he could, flying higher into the air to save fuel, the less air there was, the less drag, and that resulted in lower fuel consumption. He Continued as far as he could go, before we witnessed his left engine sputtered, and slow to a stop. Soon after, his right engine repeated the actions of the left, and His plane began to lose altitude, turning into a glider aircraft. Furey Held onto the wheel of Plane as hard as he could, his luck turning up as he saw a large, Tree-less field ahead of him.
“I’m landing up here boys. Report it to the Recovery group!”
“Roger that sir! See you on the other side!” His lieutenant spoke through the radio. Furey waved to Captain Hal in the Rae, then Lieutenant Currann in the Kansas Tornado, before turning his aircraft towards what was now clearly a Military Base, barracks coming into view and soldiers running left and right.
The Two P-47s sped away from him, tipping their wings in salute to him as they flew over the Base. Furey carefully directed the Base, his mind and body still tense as he flipped the landing gear switch down. As the plane, still moving quickly but engines off, touched down on the ground and sped past what he identified, with almost un-parallel joy, as Allied Soldiers of what he assumed was an Armored Division, Sherman’s and even a Pershing driving around. He didn’t know yet that it was the First Armored Division.
As the plane slowly came to a stop in a large field occupied by only a few soldiers, Furey nodded to himself, happy that at-least he’d kept his plane un-damaged and in Allied Hands. He pulled off his Oxygen Mask, and threw open the door of the Canopy, before un-buckling himself, and sitting there, attempting to catch his breath as he heard soldiers yelling and vehicles making their way over to his plane. This was probably their first time ever seeing a plane even remotely like this.