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PS I have killed 3 grouse, 4 pheasant 1 blackbird and a sparrow just driving my car so I would have been a shoe in as an ace. No credits here for pheasant they are the most suicidal of all living things, its amazing that people pay to shoot them.
Or as a Kamikazi...
Yep, as Steve mentioned, the Bf 109 had benign stall characteristics, interesting considering its wing loading; that was the benefit of the slats. Wing loading is arframe loaded weight divided by wing area and for the Bf 109 it was a higher figure for a relatively small airframe. This did have a tendency to scare inexperienced pilots, particularly on take-off; the '109 had a comparatively high take-off and landing speed to what the pilots in the late 30s were used to in the Luftwaffe, basically Fw 56s and He 51s, but the slats helped with flying handling at steep angles of bank. The high speeds on the ground was considered a disadvantage when the Bf 109 was being pitted against the He 112 during evaluation.
This is Eric Brown's account of stalling a Gustav;
"The stall with the aircraft clean, with half fuel load and the engine throttled right back occurred at 105 mph (168 km/h). This was preceded by elevator buffet and opening of the slats about 20 mph (30 km/h) above the stall, these being accompanied by the unpleasant aileron snatching as the slats opened unevenly. The stall itself was failry gentle with the nose dropping about 10 degrees. In the landing configuration the stall occurred at 99 mph (160 km/h) with identical symptoms apart from heavier elevator buffetting."
This an account by Dave Southwood a regular display pilot of Black 6 when it was flying;
"The idle stall characteristics are very benign and are affected little by undercarriage and flap position. Stall warning, which occurs at about 6 mph (10 km/h) above the stall, is given by a slight wing rock and the stick floatingright by about 2 inches (5 cm). The stall is characterised by a left wing dropb through about 15 degrees, accompanied by a light buffet. All controls are effective up to the stall and recovery is instant on moving the stick forward.
Stall speeds are 96 mph (155 km/h) clean and 87 mph (140 km/h) with undercarriage and flap down. In a turn with 2,300 rpm/1.15 ata [atmospheres] set, stall warning is given by a light buffet at around 3g and the stall occurs at about 3.5g with the inside wing dropping. Again, recovery is instataneous on reducing the pull force on the stick."
Thanks Biff, I suspect most pilots referring to turning fights omit a lot of banking climbing rolling and other maneuvers ending with dodging around churches bridges and power lines. The Typhoon pilot said (as you say) the Fw was pulling a hard turn about 20ft above the sea, suddenly a wing dipped and it cartwheeled into the sea.
It's not so bad when you are matched, say, 8 to 8 ... but 4 on 20 will mean the 4 are going to have a bad time, usually.
November 8, 1941
When I levelled out, I found myself directly over Le Torquet, and a little ship outside the harbour was throwing up a furious barrage of flak at me.
While I was in the process of turning and twisting, dodging the flak, I was 'bounced' by two 109s. They were a well-disciplined pair, so stationed that one could take over the attack where the other left off. Soon they were joined by two more. Turning and twisting I took short blind bursts at anything that went in front. It seemed like no time before I heard the hiss. I was out of ammunition. I was still over the ship which was relentlessly tracing my course through the sky with its flak. The 109s pressed home their attack with persistent vigour, one coming within fifty yards, firing all the way. Watching his tracer, I found myself trying to climb up on the dashboard. With one shuddering turn after another I was bathed in sweat. I had to keep my head spinning from one side to the other so that I could watch two at a time.
Gradually a sickening dread came over me as my strength diminished. On the point of exhaustion, I was ready to give up when all at once they left me alone. Realizing they too must have run out, I flicked over on my back and went straight down on the sea through a hail of light flak. I kicked my tail out of the way a few times for a quick look, but sure enough, nobody was there.
March 13, 1942
Inside the coast, a Focke-Wulf 190, its yellow nose glistening in the sun, went by on my side. In level flight at high speed the 190 flew with nose down. The prop appeared to be barely turning, as through the pilot had throttled back to wait. It seemed as if he was looking at me with a hooked nose and a malevolent sneer. I couldn't stand it, I had to get it over with.
Banging the throttle through the gate, I peeled out of the formation and went after him. He was the sucker bait, and, as if he was thumbing his nose, he rolled gracefully over and streaked for the ground. I was where they wanted me, a – l – o – n – e.
In an instant, two more came rocketing down from above with the leading edges of their wings rippling fire. As they split up and took turns attacking, a wave of nausea came over me. Determined to sell myself dearly, I took chances on longer bursts as they went by. The shudder of my guns maintained my spirit but I knew that soon my six seconds would be up. The next time I pressed my thumb I heard the sickening hiss. I was out. Gasping in my mask as I strained with the G., I worked myself towards the Channel. Doggedly they kept after me. By the time I had managed to get ten miles off shore I felt myself greying out with exhaustion. I was ready to give up. Another was coming in. I levelled out, flew straight towards England and closed my eyes.
After what seemed like an eternity, I opened my eyes and looked. On my port side was a 190 slowly going by. For a moment we looked at each other eye to eye. The next instant he was in a climbing turn and went diving back into France. I was alone. I dived down on the waves and went 'balls out' for Dover. As I crossed in over the cliffs with the balloons all riding gently into the wind, I felt as though I awakened from a nightmare. With ten gallons of fuel I circled Manston for a landing.
Mid-1942 is a little early to be "revisionist," and that's when Leigh-Mallory started his campaign for the .5" and was told he couldn't have it for the reason stated. If you read paragraph II of this paper, it'll give some (early) confirmation of Air Ministry thinking.You could also say that it was people who enjoyed killing animals for sport became good fighter pilots. I honestly believe this is revisionist, the RAF training was poor, so there was a post war consensus that only "grouse shooters" could become pilot aces.
If you actually bother to read what I said, I wrote "average pilot," and how many of those never scored a single victory?As an counter argument to Tuck and Stanford I offer Adolph Malan certainly not an aristocrat no record of shooting grouse though I believe as a south african he shot a few animals. All I have read about him is that he hated the enemy and wanted to kill them, post war I believe he left the RAF in 1946 never flew again and went into politics.
Pbehn,
If you were to be in a nearby plane watching a dogfight (BFM in todays parlance) you would think it was fairly benign. If you were in the aircraft it would be anything but. I took up a 1 star (Brig Gen with a T38, U2, SR71, KC135 background) and did short range defensive set up's with an F-16. When we were on the RTB he told me he had no idea it was so violent. I thought of it as normal due to acclimatization. He also asked why I put my hand up against the canopy, to which I replied to hold myself in the seat (the jet would get to zero or slight negative G during some maneuvers). It's hard to maneuver the plane when you are hanging in the straps.
Mid-1942 is a little early to be "revisionist," and that's when Leigh-Mallory started his campaign for the .5" and was told he couldn't have it for the reason stated. If you read paragraph II of this paper, it'll give some (early) confirmation of Air Ministry thinking.
If you actually bother to read what I said, I wrote "average pilot," and how many of those never scored a single victory?
With regard to the football-passing analogy, have you seen how many passes don't reach their intended recipient?
Also, I don't think there are many footballers who propel a ball at 1000 feet per second, to a colleague travelling at 250/350 mph.
An Armadillo can tear up the front end of a car (steering linkage, oil pan, etc.) where a Skunk will just leave a stench for a while.@ Biff no armadillo road kills? where i was in oklahoma i rarely saw a skunk kill....more 'dillos and turtles ( believe it or not ).
Holy crap, Karl!!happened to me last night.
travelling home in thick fog, when suddenly the car infront swerves to the left and in front of me i had an Ambulance on the travelling on the wrong side of a duel carridgeway, i missed a head on by inches !
it looked like he turned right out of a junction but instead of crossing the first two east bound lanes and turn onto the west bound lane he just turned into us, we all swerved and he just carried on travelling in the wrong side of the road !
was still shaking at home 20 minutes later !
When the aircraft and targets were standing still, the pilots didn't miss the butts, either.With regard to the football analogy have you seen footballers (soccer) or a quarterback (US Football) warming up or training, they hardly ever miss.
Except for the speeds involved, of course.During the game there is opposition to tackle intercept or block, apart from in football the player wants to receive and in air combat the target doesnt want to be hit the analogy works perfectly.