[*M]bzerkbzerk wrote: It was a cold February evening when I arrived in the Misfits base of operation after a long arduous journey. There was a fine mist in the air, the kind that causes the glow from distant light to appear ghostly. I could hear the faint sound of laughter and music coming from a sparsely lit solitary building on the edge of the airfield.
Instinctively I approached until I stood in front of what could only be best described as a wooden shack held together with tacks and tape, above the eave it read ACEHOLE. I reached for the tattered rope handle and pulled the wooden door, which had seen better days as ordinance crates and entered. Directly across the small room in large print read, "Welcome to the Misfits everyone else can catch our lead".
Four pilots sat at the make shift bar, which was made from the remnants of the top wing of a downed enemy Spad, bullet holes included. Drinking spirits, although it smelled more of piss and vinegar from some home made brew in the dark corner of some tent. In unison, they all turned and stared directly into my eyes, each having the same cold hard as steel glare. What have I gotten myself into? I thought. As if rehearsed, they raised their mugs one by one until each held them above their heads and announced, "welcome to the Misfits".
I awoke the next morning, at least I think it was morning and the next day. In a deep voice I heard, wakey, wakey noob, time to see what kind of flying skill you have. I sat up and instantly felt a vice like grip on my temples and must have winced a bit as again that deep voice thundered in my head, yep, that's the kool aide effect he said as he chuckled and said, I'm foust you have 10 minutes to get your butt to the field.
Kool aide and who the, what the hell happened? vaguely recalling the events of last. Welcomed to the squad with my first drink of what tasted like turpentine stripping the layers away from my throat as I swallowed. Maybe I was a bit hammered, but I swear I recall a huge green flash across the room, followed by a large crash and, and then hulk not so smart followed by laughter. Yeah, I must have been hammered.
After splashing my face with cold water, I was surprised to see in the mirror that I still had my uniform on from the previous night, wow must have been a pour me into my cot night. What the hell is this, black and yellow stretchy pants, no time to ask, couple minutes to get to the field.
Walking (stumbling)towards the row of planes that sat at the other end of the field, near the hangar tents, I could see foust already mounted inside his Siemens. To his right with the prop spinning, sat an Albatros, assuming this is my ride I approached to find bzerkbzerk just below the cockpit. Again that deep laugh over the engine noise and foust yelling, you don't remember do you bzerk, tell you later, let's fly.
Quick familiarization of the controls, wheel brakes set, wave to have chocks removed and throttled up, following just to the right and slightly behind foust, we bounced down the field, wheels up.