https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SpTmQU0nHuA
ΥΓ περιττό να σας πω ότι το λαμόγιο ο γραφτον μου το στειλε με πμ εντός μισαώρου
Με στειλες ενώ το χω φτιάξει μοντελάκι μικρό βέβαια 1/72 αυτό δεν το θυμόμουνα.Είχαν πόρτα όλες οι σειρές-εκδόσεις ?
Κανένα από τα μικρά δυστυχώς δεν κράτησα.Το κιτ είχε αν θυμάμαι επιλογή ,ή το κλασικό ή της Ινδικής αεροπορίας χωρίς το "προγούλι" έχουν περάσει βέβαια και 40 χρόνια από τότε και μπορεί να λέω μαλακίες δεν θέλω να συμβουλεύομαι wicki ,μόνο ότι θυμάσαι έχει αξία
Άπας αήρ αετώ περάσιμος
Δε νομίζω ότι είχα δει ποτέ typhoon με πόρτα... όσο ζω μαθαίνω.
Ένα ωραίο βίντεο για τους λάτρεις των αεροπλάνων του Πρώτου Παγκοσμίου:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l14fq0V9Tqs
Όταν 160 άλογα και 160χλμ/ώρα ήταν αρκετά
Αυτή η περίοδος είναι η αγαπημένη μου, με ιστορίες σαν του Werner Voss ή την αερομαχία Guynemer vs Udet, που τερματίζεται ουσιαστικά μαζί με την εποχή των Μοναχικών Λύκων...
Αποσπάσματα από το αγαπημένο manual-βιβλίο του εξαιρετικού παιχνιδιού Red Baron 2, έχει εξαιρετικά κείμενα και αξίζει να το διαβάσετε:
https://www.sierragamers.com/uploads...anual_-_pc.pdf
Voss vs everything
Voss, like Ball, did not have many friends on the ground. He kept to himself, eschewing friendships with his fellow pilots in favor of spending time alone with his motorcycle. He spent hours tinkering with the cycle, working away on its tiny engine while dressed in an ancient green sweater much too big for his spindly frame. He loved machines and would spend much time talking with his mechanic about his airplanes and how they could improve on them. While on the ground he was an awkward, retiring fellow, Voss was pure pilot in the air. A gifted flier with a phenomenal grasp of aerobatics, he could quickly maneuver for a killing shot in almost any situation. Combined with his incredible flying skill were his sharpshooting abilities with his planes machine guns. Voss was a deadeye shot who used his uncanny accuracy to spare the lives of his opponents. Having been a two-seater pilot once himself, he felt sympathy for his enemy to a degree few of his peers showed. Instead of shooting to kill, he would aim for the engine, hoping to knock it out, while leaving the crew unharmed. In Voss mind, that at least gave his quarry a fair chance to make a crash landing and he could claim a victory as well.
On September 23, 1917, Voss flew his last patrol. The night before, the young squadron commander had attended a party for one of his pilots who had just earned the Pour Le Merite. He awoke the next morning groggy from a hangover. As a result, he was not at his best. Alone, he set out over the front that afternoon in his Fokker Dr. I Triplane, a new type just entering use in the German Jagdstaffeln. Near Poelcapelle, he ran across B Flight, 56 Squadron. Led by no less a figure than ace Jimmy McCudden, B Flight represented one of the most experienced formations in the entire RFC. Sixto-one odds did nothing to deter Voss, who fought McCudden and his comrades to a standstill in an epic, 10-minute fight. He drove off one SE5, put holes in the other five until, at last, sheer numbers began to tell. Somewhere in the fight, Voss probably took a bullet that severely injured him. His flying became erratic, and when he went into a shaky, shallow dive, Arthur RhysDavids slipped onto the Fokkers tail and poured a long burst into the Triplane. The fusillade of bullets tore into the Dr.I, and Voss spun into the ground where his craft exploded in flames. Perhaps the last, great lone-wolf hunter had met his end. With him, so ended the last vestiges of the earlier air war. From now on, the fight in the air would grow increasingly impersonal and bloody as the final climax of the war approached.
Guynemer vs Udet
One day, he took Udet aside and led him over to a metal table. Deftly, Gontermann bent over and scooped up some pebbles and a leaf. Putting the leaf on the table, he barraged it with pebbles until his hand was again empty. Each time a pebble struck the table, it sounded like a bullet striking home. You see, Udet, Gontermann lectured, thats the way it is. The bullets fall from the hand of God. They come closer and closer. Sooner or later they will hit us. They will hit us for certain. The long war of attrition was taking its toll. Even the most stout hearted, such as Gontermann wearer of the Blue Max and universally respected by his peers could not take the daily losses forever. Sooner or later, a pilot’s nerves would be shot. Udet fought on, knowing his experience and expertise could keep him alive.
Then one day in June, 1917, at the height of his squadrons crisis, he ran into a tan SPAD VII with Vieux Charles spelled out in black letters on the fuselage. It started at 15,000 feet over the little French town of Liearval. Flying alone, Udet had crossed the lines in search of an Allied observation balloon. Before he found it, though, a speck appeared off to the west. As it grew closer, he could see it was a Spad. He turned toward it, and the Germans Albatros scout rushed headlong at the sturdy French biplane. They barreled past each other, mere feet apart. Both pilots now were too intent on the kill to be rattled by such a narrow evasion of death. Udet broke hard left, trying to come around behind the Spad. As he looked back at his enemy, he could see the Spad doing the same thing. Suddenly, they were locked in another head-on pass. Again, the two planes brushed by, escaping a collision by only the narrowest margin. The battle continued as each pilot circled the other. Every few seconds, they leveled out of their tight turns to make a quick headon attack before quickly banking hard to come around one more time. After one such run, Udet passed so close to the Spad that he recognized the narrow, pale face under the leather helmet. It was Frances ace of aces, Charles Guynemer. Convinced now he had his hands full, Udet resolved to stick it out, fighting this legendary French ace to the death. Swiftly, after another head-on attack, he pulled up into an Immelmann and tried to roll back down on the French ace. No good, Guynemer spotted the move and looped away. Udet broke into another hard turn, but as he emerged from it, Guynemer pounced. Guns rattled and Udet saw bullets tear across his wings and struts.
Desperate now, Udet threw his plane all over the sky. It did no good, for Guynemer matched every maneuver with one of his own. Always, the French ace seemed a bit faster, a bit better. Then, for an instant, the Spad appeared in his sights. It was Udets one chance to take a shot, and he never hesitated. His finger crunched down on the gun tit on his control stick.
Nothing.
He pressed it again. Still nothing. His guns had jammed! Now what would he do? Taking the stick in his left hand, Udet tried to clear the jam with his right hand. No good he couldnt get the shell out. Briefly, he considered breaking away and diving for home, but he quickly squelched the thought. Guynemer would have jumped all over his tail in that sturdy Spad had he tried to get away. No, his only chance lay in evading Guynemer’s attacks until the French ace tired of the game. They went at it for eight more minutes, turning banking, arching up and down in half loops and split S’s. By some miracle, Udet managed to keep Guynemer from getting all but the most fleeting of shots in at him. As the fight continued, Udet never gave up trying to clear his guns. Finally, out of sheer frustration, he began banging his fist against the guns. Just as he did, Guynemer soared over Udets plane, inverted. As the Frenchman passed by, he saw Udets gesture and realized the Germans predicament. Guynemer finished his pass then reversed his turn, coming back straight at Udet, almost inverted again. Udet was cold meat and he knew it.
But instead of a torrent of bullets, all he received from Guynemer was a jaunty wave.
And then he was gone, diving for home, his Spad disappearing rapidly into the gray summers day. Udet returned to Jasta 15 in a state of near-shock, his plane shot full of holes. Only through Guynemers chivalry had he survived his brush with death.
Τελευταία τροποποίηση από Tsber; 12/07/2019 στις 18:54.