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I love the Tiger!

Slowly the terrain looks like it should be. Big thanks to Mue for his great TOD-tool!

I love your pssion for the Mustang! Is this Wolf´s Mustang? I still got highrez templates for that Mustang, if you are interested, I can send em over to you.

McDonnell Douglas F-4B Phantom II

I noticed when doing the D-day stripes!

that's definately Wolf's. Watch out for the mapping errors -- usually at the base of the fin fillet.

Hi, all! Glad to be getting involved in another DiD campaign. I've had tons of fun with the previous ones. The tale of Charles A. Fairclough, Part 1. The March morning wind bit harshly with that kind of chill that seems to pass straight through the flesh and root itself deeply into the bones. It was a truly bitter cold - and yet, Charles Fairclough found it comforting. He had always thought of this kind of cold as inherently English, and on its gusts it carried him images of carefree days spent on Hampstead Heath, or at that wonderful aerodrome in Hendon, where he had spent many days of his adolescence watching the fantastic pioneer flying machines turning, looping, racing through the air in ways seemingly unimaginable to humanity before now. He stood now at the edge of another aerodrome, though he had left England and its careless pleasures behind. As so many of his friends before him had done, he had finally come to France, clad in the olive-drab of the Military, to fight in the ‘Great War’ that had rocked Europe to its core these past two years. Through the toil of many hours he had gone into that beloved aerodrome at Hendon and, at last, joined the ranks of the pioneers he idolized; he was a military pilot. The ferry to France had made him violently ill for the most part, and then he had sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat of a Crossley through endless winding country roads before finally arriving at the French village of Gonnehem. From there he had been directed towards the field standing directly beside the looming Chateau de Werppe, dull-white and near-medieval in its appearance, which stood sentinel at the Northern edge of the village, and at last he had found the aerodrome of Number 10 Squadron, Royal Flying Corps. …and now he hadn’t the foggiest where to go or what to do next. The Chateau de Werppe. Chocques aerodrome was buzzing with activity. By the gently-rippling bessonneau hangars which lined the edge of the aerodrome, scattered pairs of mechanics clad in blue overalls worked frantically on a trio of B.E.2s. In front of the foremost hangar stood a picnic bench, around which several officers were sat, chatting and laughing loudly among themselves as they played a game of cards. A buzz overhead announced the arrival of another ‘Quirk’. Charles took a moment to watch it glide gently down to land. Past the hangars was a crude wooden hut, reminiscent of the barracks at Hendon. From within stepped a Sergeant, making towards the hangars. Not knowing what else to do, Charles slung his kit-bag over his shoulder and moved to intercept him. “Excuse me!” he called out, “I’m a new pilot, I just arrived. I was told to report to the Adjutants office…might you know where it is?”. The Sergeant, without breaking stride, pointed towards the Chateau de Werppe. “Through the front door, room on the left, Sir”. Charles scarcely managed his thanks before the Sergeant ducked through the entrance of a Bessoneau. With his uncertainty of what to do gone, he skirted the edge of the field and found himself on the footpath that led to the Gothic Chateau, climbing up the steps to the towering front door which stood open and led into a large foyer. Two Lieutenant Pilots reclined in deep red-leather armchairs and appeared to be in a heated discussion. “...well, I’ve hardly given my own marriage a second thought since I got here, so I’m damned well not interested in hearing about yours”. “I'm only saying that we both know bloody well that you really ought to be more faithful”. “Oh, do shut up. It’s a matter of - oh, Hullo! What’s this? A new pilot?” Charles was embarrassed to be discovered eavesdropping. “How do you do?” he asked, sheepishly. The men ignored the question. “Have you seen the Adjutant yet?” one asked. Charles shook his head. “Well then, it’s right through there. Better go and see him”. The Adjutant’s office, before the war, evidently had been a study for the previous proprietor of the Chateau. Lining either wall were towering bookcases, their shelves packed tight with dusty tomes, and centrally sitting in front of the large back-wall window was a beautifully-crafted mahogany desk. From behind it peered a thin, gaunt Lieutenant, his perfectly circular glasses flashing in the light as his head jerked up to assess Charles’ intrusion. “Second Lieutenant Fairclough, I take it?” “Yes, sir”. “Right. You’re assigned to ‘B’ flight. Your flight commander is Lieutenant Wood. He’s through there in the Ante room. Go and see him”. The Ante room was even more extravagant than the luxury of Charles’ family home. The walls seemed to stretch endlessly upwards into a domed, ornate ceiling, and between two tall windows stood a decorative marble fireplace, beside which sat his flight commander, reclining luxuriously in a deep-set brown armchair. The man, Charles thought, had quite violent features - beneath a neatly middle-parted crop of chestnut hair sat close-in angular features, the eyebrows turned down in a seemingly perpetual scowl and the lips tightly pursed. Charles stood to attention in front of the man. “Second Lieutenant Fairclough, reporting” he announced, putting on his greatest air of officialdom. Wood looked over at him tiredly. “Just over from Blighty, I take it?” he asked. “Yes, sir” answered Charles. “How many hours?” Wood asked. “...sir?” “On Quirks”. “Ah. Fifteen, sir”. “Fifteen! Christ. How many times have you crashed?” “Twice, sir”. Charles reddened slightly, but to his surprise Wood nodded approvingly. “Only twice. Well, that’s something, at least. Alright then, Fairclough, I’ll tell you what. ‘B’ Flight are just about to go up on a show. You can come with us, and meet your observer while you’re at it. Your room will be upstairs on the left, you’re sharing it with O’Bannon. Go and drop off your kit and get your flying gear on”. Back on the Aerodrome, Charles had been introduced to both his machine and his observer. To his shock, he learned that it was a Captain he was to be ‘flying for’ - one Captain Owen - whom upon being introduced to him grabbed Charles by the arm and pulled him closer. “Now, listen”, Owen had said to him, “don’t worry about looking for Huns. You new chaps never can see anything in the air at first. I’ll spot the huns for you. But if I point one out to you, you turn around and come straight home. Got it?”. The three crews boarded their machines and, following Wood’s lead, took off serially, circling the aerodrome and forming up before heading South-East. It was only then that Charles realized he hadn’t the foggiest idea where they were going, or even what they were meant to be doing. Quickly he resolved to just stay put behind Wood’s Quirk. The trio drifted southeast, and before long an endless brown shape emerged from behind the veil of the clouds, resembling a vast, bock-scarred bed of some great endlessly-stretching river that had long since dried up. With a lurch, Charles realized that this was the front. Further towards the great scar on the face of France they flew, until the earth beneath Charles’ machine was swallowed entirely by desolation. To the distant north a succession of sudden flashes preceded a great writhing and rising of the earth. Charles watched the distant explosions with disquiet awe for a moment, before turning his attention back to Wood’s machine. Whoof-whoof-whoof. At first Charles was confused, and then alarmed, as the sky around them suddenly became dotted with small, black circular oil-smudges. Archie! On the trip across the channel on the ferry, Charles had briefly spoken to a pilot returning from leave about this strange, unusual menace. According to the pilot, it was perfectly harmless, but nonetheless Charles found himself wincing at each new burst. He felt a sudden embarrassment as Captain Owen flashed him a sharp-toothed grin, and steadied himself once more. ‘Perfectly harmless is our old pal Archie’, he recited in his head - the advice of his pilot friend aboard the ferry - ‘he likes to make a fuss when you come overhead, but he never hits anything, bless him’. After an uncomfortable hour, Wood directed the flight home. It was just after ten O’Clock when they touched back down on the aerodrome at Chocques, and Charles couldn’t help but smile at the notion that he’d just been on his first flight over the front - an idea that seemed all-too-far away during his time as a pilot-in-training. After they had climbed down from their machine, Captain Owen clapped a hand onto Charles’ shoulder. “Not too terrible, was it, Fairclough?” he asked with a smile. “No, not too bad”, Charles replied, “but I admit the archie gave me a bit of a start. I take it you never saw any huns, then?”. The Captain smirked. “Three. All Aviatiks. They buggered off just as soon as they saw us coming”. Later that evening, Charles met the rest of Number 10’s officer pilots as they crowded around a long dining table in the Chateau’s dining room, including his new room-mate, O’Bannon. He found himself on the fringes of a conversation at the far end of the table. “Did you hear, Obie? The Captain and Wilkie bagged a hun over Bethune!” “They never did! With the same trick as before?” “According to Wilkie. Came right ahead of him and under his nose, then popped up in front. Wilkie says the poor Hun looked perfectly horrified!” O’Bannon turned to Charles. “Captain Foss and Wilkie are our star turns. They’ve bagged two huns so far! I’ve got a bet going with Arnold over there that they’ll be the first ace crew to fly a Quirk. Captain Foss, Sir! Did you see where they crashed? We should go over and get a souvenir for the wall!”. At the other end of the table, a stocky, dark-haired pilot looked up from the glass of whiskey he’d been nursing with an irritated air. “Don’t be so bloody stupid, O’Bannon”. O’Bannon laughed, and turned back to Charles. “Our C.O. is a funny chap. Not the most pleasant fellow, but we’ll follow him anywhere”. Dinner was simple and small - meat and potatoes - but where food was seemingly sparse, drink was abundant, and as the evening went on the pilots became increasingly rowdy, in celebration of Captain Foss and Wilkins’ victory in the air. Before too long the entire mess had broken into several songs. Charles knew the tunes, but definitely didn’t know the pilots and observers of Number 10’s renditions, where every other word seemed to be substituted for some profanity or another. The revelry escalated until Captain Foss, who had retired early, made a reappearance at the door of the mess. “I want some damned sleep tonight, if none of the rest of you do!” he bellowed. Defused, the men began to retire upstairs to their respective rooms. “The one on the right’s yours” O’Bannon told Charles. “Dump your stuff in that trunk by the foot of the bed”. “Thank you”. “So, first flight today? Was it everything you’d hoped for and more?”. “It...wasn't quite what I’d imagined. My observer says he saw three huns, but I never saw a thing”. “Ha! Well, of course not on your first time over! Never mind. With any luck at all, you never will see one”. “Are Aviatiks really that good compared to our B.E.2s?”. “Oh, not so much. But those damned Hun monoplanes are. Here’s some advice. If you ever see one of those, no matter how far away it is, fly back home. They’re real killers”. O’Bannon rolled over to face away from Charles. “Anyway, you’ve got the morning show tomorrow and I’m half-tight, so goodnight”. “Goodnight. Thanks for the advice”.

Entering the pattern game-wise anyway

You can download the complete Recon Wars Notes and how to play here : Recon Wars Notes (updated 22/03/2022)

Told ya that a camo schme made from water paint would not last :) Skin pack V2.0 about to be done!

TK posted this in Sep. 2007 in his forum. See this forum thread: LOD file format. - Third Wire Forums.htm. And I wrote already that he used obfuscation methods later. Just to clarify: I don't want to distribute any assets. I only want to use assets from the game I purchased or assets from this community within FlightGear. For this I plan to write a tool that automatically converts the SF2 data ini files into FlightGear files (Edit: the .lod file itself can be directly loaded into FlightGear via the OSG pluging, so no conversion of lod files needed). Again: no distribution of any assets! I think that's legal within TWs EULA and CombatAce Freeware License Agreement. And I see benefit for Thirdwire and the community: Maybe some will buy SF2 games if they know they can use the aircraft in FlightGear too. And maybe FlightGear can be enhanced to be a fully community driven open source air combat simulator. Then why not use the already by this community created assets? And yes, everybody has access to FlightGear assets. Most FlightGear assets are released under GPL or other "free" licenses. I was told recently, that FlightGear aircraft were already converted to SF2.

USAF F-22 landing mishap yesterday 22 March 2022 at Eglin Air Force Base, Florida. The landing gear collapsed upon landing, causing the aircraft to veer off the runway. There are currently no reports of injuries. It's really sad to see one of these jet land this way. To me the F-22 is one of the best fighter jet in the world and there are only limited numbers of them.