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PostPosted: July 11th, 2012, 3:40 pm 
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Herzog
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Messerschmitt Bf 109E in the Chalais-Meudon wind tunnel, near Paris, after the German victory in France. 1940.

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The Dornier Do X was the largest, heaviest, and most powerful flying boat in the world when it was produced by the Dornier company of Germany in 1929.
The Do X was financed by the German Transport Ministry and built in a specially designed plant at Altenrhein, on the Swiss portion of Lake Constance, in order to circumvent the Treaty of Versailles which forbade any aircraft exceeding set speed and range limits to be built in Germany after World War I.
While the type was popular with the public, a lack of commercial interest and a number of non-fatal accidents prevented more than three examples from being built.
Germany's original Do X was turned over to Deutsche Luft Hansa, the national airline at that time, after the financially strapped Dornier Company could no longer operate it. After a successful 1932 tour of German coastal cities, Luft Hansa planned a Do X flight to Vienna, Budapest, and Istanbul for 1933. The voyage ended after nine days when the flying boat's tail section tore off during a botched, over-steep landing on a reservoir lake near the city of Passau. While the fiasco was successfully covered up and the Do X was repaired, it was then flown to Berlin, where it became the centerpiece of Germany's new aviation museum Deutsche Luftfahrt-Sammlung at Lehrter Bahnhof, opened in 1936.
The Do X remained an exhibit until it was destroyed in an RAF air raid during World War II on the night of 23–24 November 1943, by 383 aircraft.
Fragments of the torn off tail section are on display at the Dornier Museum in Friedrichshafen. While never a commercial success, the Dornier Do X was the largest heavier-than-air aircraft of its time, a pioneer in demonstrating the potential of an international passenger air service.

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The Dornier Do 335 Pfeil ("Arrow") was a World War II heavy fighter built by the Dornier company. The Pfeil's performance was much better than other twin-engine designs due to its unique "push-pull" layout and the much lower drag of the in-line alignment of the two engines. The Luftwaffe was desperate to get the design into operational use, but delays in engine deliveries meant only a handful were delivered before the war ended.

There are many advantages to this design over the more traditional system of placing one engine on each wing, the most important being power from two engines with the frontal area (and thus drag) of a single-engine design, allowing for higher performance. It also keeps the weight of the twin powerplants near, or on, the aircraft centerline, increasing the roll rate compared to a traditional twin. In addition, a single engine failure does not lead to asymmetric thrust, and in normal flight there is no net torque so the plane is easy to handle. The choice of a full "four-surface" set of cruciform tail surfaces in the Do 335's rear fuselage design, included a ventral vertical fin–rudder assembly to project downwards from the extreme rear of the fuselage, in order to protect the rear propeller from an accidental ground strike on takeoff.

French ace Pierre Clostermann claimed the first Allied combat encounter with a Pfeil in April 1945. In his book The Big Show he describes leading a flight of four Hawker Tempests from No. 3 Squadron RAF over northern Germany, when he intercepted a lone Do 335 flying at maximum speed at treetop level. Detecting the British aircraft, the German pilot reversed course to evade. Despite the Tempest's considerable low altitude speed, the RAF fighters were not able to catch up or even get into firing position.

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Captured Dornier Do 335 Pfeil in US Air Force markings.

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PostPosted: July 25th, 2012, 2:07 pm 
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Douglas SBD Dauntless dive bombers in formation over the Pacific, 1943.

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PostPosted: August 10th, 2012, 8:52 am 
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B-17 Flying Fortress performing for a film crew, followed by a P-51D Mustang and a P-47 Thunderbolt.

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USAAF P-47 Thunderbolt at extreme low level. Note that the sweep of the camera's pan has bent the buildings in the background.

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A P-47 Thunderbolt of the 64th Fighter Squadron, while on a mission to Milan , struck the ground during a low level strafing run. Despite the bent props and crushed chin, the pilot nursed the Jug 150 miles home to Grosseto.

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Curtiss P-40 Kittyhawk. 3rd Squadron Hell's Angels, Flying Tigers over China. 1942

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Supermarine Spitfire

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Sex.

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First World War, aerial war. A French zeppelin/airship under attack from a German plane. 1915.

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Franz von Werra (1914 – 1941) and Simba, his unit's lion mascot. He is generally regarded as the only Axis prisoner of war to make a "home run", succeeding in escaping from a Canadian prisoner of war camp and returning to Germany. Von Werra managed to return to home via the USA, Mexico, South America and Spain to reach Germany on 18 April 1941. Hailed as a hero upon his return, Von Werra reported to the German High Command on his treatment as a POW, and this improved the treatment of POWs in Germany. On 25 October 1941, just seven months after his return to Germany, von Werra's aircraft disappeared over the North Sea near Vlissingen, most probably due to engine failure. His body was never found.

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800 spies | 25 nukes | 6,930,661 | NoR 2.0 aid sent: 832 mil

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Let me win your heart and mind or I'll burn your God damn hut down.


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PostPosted: August 10th, 2012, 11:58 am 
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Some nice pictures you found :germanenjoy:

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Come, grab your weapons, lift up your arms!
For Germany we take a stand, for folk and leader we march on in glorious song.
Even in facing the eyes of defeat, the enemies cower in throngs, at the sound of German feet and fire.
Nukes: 29


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PostPosted: September 2nd, 2012, 5:55 am 
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Let me win your heart and mind or I'll burn your God damn hut down.


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PostPosted: September 5th, 2012, 7:05 am 
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Romanian Bf-109G at Mizil airfield, 1943. Nose art is the 53 squadron's Mickey Mouse riding a horse, a parody of Saint George (Russia's patron saint) killing the dragon.

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PostPosted: September 21st, 2012, 7:53 am 
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AWESOME read below. Extract from a book by an ex SR-71 Pilot:

There were a lot of things we couldn't do in an SR-71, but we were the fastest guys on the block and loved reminding our fellow aviators of this fact. People often asked us if, because of this fact, it was fun to fly the jet. Fun would not be the first word I would use to describe flying this plane. Intense, maybe. Even cerebral. But there was one day in our Sled experience when we would have to say that it was pure fun to be the fastest guys out there, at least for a moment.
It occurred when Walt and I were flying our final training sortie. We needed 100 hours in the jet to complete our training and attain Mission Ready status. Somewhere over Colorado we had passed the century mark. We had made the turn in Arizona and the jet was performing flawlessly. My gauges were wired in the front seat and we were starting to feel pretty good about ourselves, not only because we would soon be flying real missions but because we had gained a great deal of confidence in the plane in the past ten months. Ripping across the barren deserts 80,000 feet below us, I could already see the coast of California from the Arizona border. I was, finally, after many humbling months of simulators and study, ahead of the jet.
I was beginning to feel a bit sorry for Walter in the back seat. There he was, with no really good view of the incredible sights before us, tasked with monitoring four different radios. This was good practice for him for when we began flying real missions, when a priority transmission from headquarters could be vital. It had been difficult, too, for me to relinquish control of the radios, as during my entire flying career I had controlled my own transmissions. But it was part of the division of duties in this plane and I had adjusted to it. I still insisted on talking on the radio while we were on the ground, however. Walt was so good at many things, but he couldn't match my expertise at sounding smooth on the radios, a skill that had been honed sharply with years in fighter squadrons where the slightest radio miscue was grounds for beheading. He understood that and allowed me that luxury. Just to get a sense of what Walt had to contend with, I pulled the radio toggle switches and monitored the frequencies along with him. The predominant radio chatter was from Los Angeles Center, far below us, controlling daily traffic in their sector. While they had us on their scope (albeit briefly), we were in uncontrolled airspace and normally would not talk to them unless we needed to descend into their airspace.
We listened as the shaky voice of a lone Cessna pilot asked Center for a readout of his ground speed.
Center replied: "November Charlie 175, I'm showing you at ninety knots on the ground."
Now the thing to understand about Center controllers, was that whether they were talking to a rookie pilot in a Cessna, or to Air Force One, they always spoke in the exact same, calm, deep, professional, tone that made one feel important. I referred to it as the "HoustonCenterVoice." I have always felt that after years of seeing documentaries on this country's space program and listening to the calm and distinct voice of the HoustonCenterControllers, that all other controllers since then wanted to sound like that... and that they basically did. And it didn't matter what sector of the country we would be flying in, it always seemed like the same guy was talking. Over the years that tone of voice had become somewhat of a comforting sound to pilots everywhere. Conversely, over the years, pilots always wanted to ensure that, when transmitting, they sounded like Chuck Yeager, or at least like John Wayne. Better to die than sound bad on the radios.
Just moments after the Cessna's inquiry, a Twin Beech piped up on frequency, in a rather superior tone, asking for his ground speed.
"Ah, Twin Beach: I have you at one hundred and twenty-five knots of ground speed."
Boy, I thought, the Beechcraft really must think he is dazzling his Cessna brethren.
Then out of the blue, a Navy F-18 pilot out of NAS Lemoore came up on frequency. You knew right away it was a Navy jock because he sounded very cool on the radios.
"Center, Dusty 52 ground speed check."
Before Center could reply, I'm thinking to myself, hey, Dusty 52 has a ground speed indicator in that million dollar cockpit, so why is he asking Center for a readout? Then I got it -- ol' Dusty here is making sure that every bug smasher from Mount Whitney to the Mojave knows what true speed is. He's the fastest dude in the valley today, and he just wants everyone to know how much fun he is having in his new Hornet.
And the reply, always with that same, calm, voice, with more distinct alliteration than emotion:
"Dusty 52, Center, we have you at 620 on the ground."
And I thought to myself, is this a ripe situation, or what? As my hand instinctively reached for the mic button, I had to remind myself that Walt was in control of the radios. Still, I thought, it must be done -- in mere seconds we'll be out of the sector and the opportunity will be lost. That Hornet must die, and die now.
I thought about all of our Sim training and how important it was that we developed well as a crew and knew that to jump in on the radios now would destroy the integrity of all that we had worked toward becoming. I was torn. Somewhere, 13 miles above Arizona, there was a pilot screaming inside his space helmet.
Then, I heard it. The click of the mic button from the back seat. That was the very moment that I knew Walter and I had become a crew. Very professionally, and with no emotion, Walter spoke:
"Los Angeles Center, Aspen 20, can you give us a ground speed check?"
There was no hesitation, and the reply came as if was an everyday request:
"Aspen 20, I show you at one thousand eight hundred and forty-two knots, across the ground." (1842 knots=3411km/h)
I think it was the forty-two knots that I liked the best, so accurate and proud was Center to deliver that information without hesitation, and you just knew he was smiling. But the precise point at which I knew that Walt and I were going to be really good friends for a long time was when he keyed the mic once again to say, in his most fighter-pilot-like voice:
"Ah, Center, much thanks. We're showing closer to nineteen hundred on the money."
For a moment Walter was a god. And we finally heard a little crack in the armor of the HoustonCentervoice, when L.A. came back with,
"Roger that Aspen, Your equipment is probably more accurate than ours. You boys have a good one."
It all had lasted for just moments, but in that short, memorable sprint across the southwest, the Navy had been flamed, all mortal airplanes on freq were forced to bow before the King of Speed, and more importantly, Walter and I had crossed the threshold of being a crew. A fine day's work.
We never heard another transmission on that frequency all the way to the coast. For just one day, it truly was fun being the fastest guys out there.

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_________________
Manhattan Project, Strategic Defense Initiative, Pentagon
Hidden Nuclear Missile Silo, Central Intelligence Agency
Anti-Air Defense Network, Foreign Air Force Base
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800 spies | 25 nukes | 6,930,661 | NoR 2.0 aid sent: 832 mil

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Let me win your heart and mind or I'll burn your God damn hut down.


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PostPosted: September 21st, 2012, 11:11 pm 
What an awesome story. About halfway through, as I started to realize where it was going, I had this huge grin on my face. It reminds me of a regular feature in Air & Space Smithsonian. Every issue had an article written by some old dude, reminiscing about some great story he had. This is exactly the kind of thing they published. Reminds me, I'll have to renew my subscription..


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PostPosted: November 7th, 2012, 8:27 am 
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Arado 234 V13 abandoned at a German airfield Apr 1945

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PostPosted: November 22nd, 2012, 10:44 am 
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From this site: http://www.militaryphotos.net/forums/sh ... om-the-Air

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