I just had the most amazing fight in the MiG-15. Its the single mission where you are to scramble against approaching fighters. If so much as a single bomb hits the airfield, you fail the mission. You get a single vector to the incoming bogeys and thats it.
So its a cold start. Luckily the Fagot spins up quickly and easily. two took a lot more time to get going than I did. I blasted it onto the runway almost at full throttle. Unlike western jets, migs steer by differential braking that is controlled by a paddle on the stick and the rudder pedals. weird.
Immediately after takeoff I retracted gears, flaps and activated all three of the guns. two hefty 23mm boys and their stupidly big 37mm daddy. I checked my heading and flew towards the mountains the enemy would be coming across. Two called he was rolling.
Just over the foothills I spotted four incoming in a dinger four formation. They were about 6k feet above me. No way was I going to catch them if they made best speed towards Beslan.
Luckily they didnt so I did. They spotted a single incoming MiGlet down below and decided blast the mission, we’re fighter pilots! and the lead element dropped their eggs and dove to engage me. well love me I thought, with a 6k altitude disadvantage, slow and alone. At least its a mission kill.
I climbed up to them. running was not going to do me any good now. time to do some of that pilot stuff! defensive against two, no scratch that; four in a machine that rolls worse than the adversary crates is hairy to say the least. I twisted. I turned. I kicked the rudder. I deliberately spun to spoil a shot. I made climbing turns to sap my pursuers energy. Two called wheels up.
And them I took a burst. lady fortune smiled upon me as my engine kept humming at full power and the exhaust temperature remained constant. The canopy was holed and my gyro sight had died . I clicked up the backup iron sight, gritted my teeth and called two to get the heck over here bleeding pronto.
Just as two called bandit sighted, I managed to blast a crossing sabre with a lucky snapshot. Those big guns hit hard. Now it was three against one. soon two. The shot left me in a horrible position, slow, nose high and with a very angry american sitting right at my six, aiming his 6 fiddy cals at my noggin.
I spun it, desperately recovering just above the trees. watched and cheered as two made a slashing attack and dragging one of the bandits up and away.
I flew a tight circle just above and around a mountain peak. the sabers could not keep up. little by little they lost angles. I did not join them in reversing, knowing their kites roll better and getting im a two circle is advantageous to me, gaining angles steadily and having a far heavier weight of shot.
And my chance came. my shot went horribly wild tho, without the benefit of a reflector sight. I patiently worked to get another chance while also twisting in my chair to keep track of his buddy, the ground and mountains and my own wingman and his dancepartner.
Blamblamblam. this time I did get him. just at that time, two called his kill as well. getting the last one almost felt like a formal training 1v1. Elated I ordered two RTB and flew home.
The landing was hairy, with a crosswind and it turned out my airspeed indicator was on the fritz too. I bumped and bopped but held it together and taxied to the tower for vodka and medals.
Tomorrow i’ll see if i can make youtube out of this for y’all. i feel sierra motherlovin’ hotel right now 
