To Guest - I hope you are enjoying the story.
16 December 1994
Janos walked down the grocery aisles, looking for the ingredients for tonight's dinner. As he grabbed tomatoes, an unsuspected face appeared. One he hasn't seen since 44. He walked over to the old pilot. "Why, I don't believe it. How have you been Flying Officer?" Janos asked. Oskar Witko turned, smiling, seeing the old man. Both men shook hands, both must have suspected the other to be dead for years.
"Been good. A bit rough in 44, 45, but since then I've been alright." Oskar said. Both men remembered the last mission they had seen each other. The day when everything changed. When the German Reich end began. "I've heard about your victories after the war. An airman with a strong will and hatred." Janos chuckled, knowing about his many victories.
"And I thought you were killed in 44." At that, Oskar chuckled.
"That would have been better than where those monsters sent me." Both men were silent. Janos knew from those few words, where the pilot was sent to.
o 0 o
6 June 1944
Today was the day. The day when everything changes. Speeding over the channel, the P-40s flew above the fleet of bombers. Flying over Sword Beach, flak guns opened fire, but the aircraft kept going through. The fighters shook from the shockwaves, Blackhawk flew through the black smoke, waiting for German fighters to appear. But today they weren't any in sight. It seems the Luftwaffe was fooled. The flak didn't let up, but the bombers continued on their flight. The whistle of bombs flying down, the group turned to return to London. As the beach got closer, Blackhawk tilted his wings back and forth, signalling the 326. Leading three into a dive, he saw the day's target in his sights. A church the German were using a command post. AA gun open fire, bullets striking the metal fuselage, glass cracking, at nine hundred feet, they released their payload, pulling the noses sharply up, the booms of the explosion echo behind. AA tracers lit the air as they gained attitude, reuniting with the squadron, into the flak.
7 June 1944
The Germans were no longer fooled. Blackhawk and the 326 flew into hellfire. AA guns were raising Cain from below, while fw 190s attacked from above. The Pole rushed through the tracers, getting on the tail of 190, waiting for the right moment, bullets ping off the metal frame, side glass cracking, when an opportunity presented itself, he pressed the trigger. The German tail was torn apart, sending it out of control. Looking for a new target, he saw AA tracers coming from a farm field. Turning, he lined up, getting behind them. As the gun position came into view, he opened fire, strafing the guns. Pulling up at the lost moment, he looked for the next target. A trench line situated next to a French village. Speeding over, he strafed the trench, the German soldiers fired their rifles in vain. Pulling up, he heard good news from Andre. "Target destroyed." the Frenchman said proudly. The radar station was destroyed.
Now the squadron was free to drop their bombs onto a German target of their choice. Searching the land, he saw an artillery placement. Flying low and fast, the placement was in his sight, dropping the payload, explosions echo behind him. Pulling the nose up, bullets ping above him, looking up he saw a 190 tailing him. Level out, he swerved, keeping the German distracted. At the right moment he pulled the throttle back, pulled the nose sharply up, letting the 190 fly past him. Pushing the nose down and throttle forward, he was on the German's tail. Pressing the trigger, he tore through the fighter's tail. Turning North, he flew for home, rejoining his wingman.