Came across this going through old mail... Thought it would be an enjoyable
read in February.... :^) Kerry - are you still here?
-----Original Message-----
"The Night Patrol"
The phone in the ready-room rang last night just as I finished some
improvements to headquarters. My wife's - err, the Squadron Commander's
presence was needed down at the end of the street where the commander of
another squadron was having a skirmish with the reds. Her call to action was
my call to action and as she loaded the trooplets into the transport, I
readied myself for a night patrol.
The wind was strong and gusty, the temperature at 804' MSL was measured in
the 40's. The sky was clear and the moon provided good light. I suited up
for the mission: turtle neck, henley, bomber jacket, gloves. I entered the
alert hangar through the crew door and performed a brief walk around. The
canopy and windows were retracted - as they always are - but so was the
radio antenna. I extended the antenna and lowered myself into the cockpit.
Breaks - On
Choke - Full On
Heat - Full On
Air Control - Cabin
Stick - Neutral
Starter - Engaged
After a few blades the engine caught, coughed, and then began its low idle
stumble. I pushed the button and the hanger door opened letting in a blast
of the cold night air.
Lights - On
I back taxied to the runway, checked the gauges, adjusted the choke, moved
the stick forward, and released the throttle. As I accelerated through the
darkness with the moon on my '6, the cold air swirled around inside the
cockpit. I was invigorated and advanced the throttle further. It was one of
those flights where you just felt alive. I pushed the limits of the ship's
performance; diving into the turns and then pulling back out with the
throttle to the firewall, all the while maintaining quick but smooth control
of the stick. Then straight and level I flew always watching for the
tell-tale red and blue flash of the enemy. I never saw them, and if they saw
me they never gave chase.
My craft performed flawlessly. It, too, seemed invigorated by the cold. At
3000 rpm the engine roared with purpose and the slightest advance of the
throttle was met with instant acceleration.
Though the gauge faces had fogged over from the cold, moist air condensing
inside their warm cases, I could see I only had a 10 minute reserve of
petrol left. The thought of dropping in to another field for a top-off
seemed like too much bother. I'd rather cut this flight short than interrupt
it with a refueling stop.
I plotted a winding course for home in case I was being followed and used my
ship's performance and maneuverability to full advantage. With the home base
in sight I leveled off and opened the throttle for a high performance
arrival. My brief mission was over.
As the door opened on the alert hangar I paused on the ramp to run-up the
engine. The sweet, steady roar from the pipes was followed by a throaty
burble as I throttled back. I looked over the side of the cockpit to check
my clearances and taxied into the hanger.
Lights - Off
Switch - Off
Stick - Neutral
Breaks - Set
As I lifted myself out of the cockpit my senses were met by the clicking of
cooling metal, the smell of hot oil, and the engine's escaping heat warming
my cold face. She's a good ship. Always ready for action. And once again
there were no discrepancies to report to the crew chief. Just as I finished
hanging up the leather jacket the Squadron Commander returned with the
trooplets from their action down the street. Turns out the red threat was
minimal (the other commander's hair wasn't nearly as red as she thought she
had dyed it).
Kerry Fores - "Driven to Own"
1974 TR6 - "Owned to be Driven"
Oshkosh, Wisconsin
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