Crash are 3 stories I wrote after several crashes I made in the Fortress Malta Campaign from vpmedia.
Here I am, floating in front of the coast of Malta. Hopefully a fishing boat will pick me up soon. But while I am here, with the explosions of Italian bombs in the distance, I can contemplate on how I got here.
As usual we were patroling over Malta. This little island, within flying range Sicily, had endured several attacks by the Italian air force. The Italians were bend on sinking this little island into the sea, since it helped us control the sea lanes between the Italian main land and the Italian troops in Libya.
Suddenly the radio crackled. A fishing boat had spotted dark shadows in the sky and had warned our base.
The Italians were there, bombers and fighters heading for our little island, hell bend on sinking it into the Mediterranean.
Our little formation of 3 Gladatiors immediately turned to face these attackers.
Within minutes, small dots appeared on the horizon. Small bursts of flak exploded between them as ships below trained their anti aircraft fire on the Italian raiders.
Now it was our turn, I dove straight towards bombers.
Tracer fire went up and back between the bombers and my fighter. But I had gained too much speed with my reckless dive and now overshot most of the bombers.
A quick pull on the stick and this old biplane went up into a loop. Glancing over my shoulder I tried to single out my victim.
But the Gladiator is too old for these kind of fights. The bombers easily outrun me and disappear in the clouds.
Suddenly tracer fire flashes over my wings. I yank the stick sideways, slipping out of the line of fire. An Italian fighter flashes by. Just like my Gladiator its an old bi-plane. Somehow I feel like I am back over the trenches in France, just like my father during the Great War.
That Italian spaghetti eater won't escape me. I start to chase him through the sky.
But again tracer fire reminds me that each wing leader has a wing man. 
Now I am hastily dogding his fire, somehow the situation turned very bad quickly.
This guy remains on my tail, if I don't have a break soon, I will be history.
In the distance one of my squadron mates has more luck sending an Italian fighter down the drain.
I bet that Italian pilot is now wondering how on earth he will get back to Italy, perhaps swimming?
But there are still plenty of other Italians around to fight with. After having shaken of my pursuer, I roll after another Italian, trying to get a shot at him.
But ironicaly he hits the sea before I even fire a single shot at him. I hope I claim him otherwise this will be a very empty dogfight.
Again tracer fire around. It looks like the entire Italian air force is after me.
A monoplane fighter flashes by. It's not fair! Why do these Italians have monoplane fighters and do we have to fight with these old obsolete wooden crates?
Like a mosquito, an Italian bi-plane follows the monoplane, taking potshots at me.
The only thing I can do is try to evade their attacks as much as possible. But suddenly my engine starts to cough. Some stray bullets must have hit a line or oil reservoir, because I am slowly loosing power.
Luckily for me, the Italians ran out of fuel and headed back for home, leaving me with a crippled bird over sea. I am too low to bail out and have not enough power to make it to land. The only option remains ditching
I can't remember the actual ditch because I knocked my head on the dashboard. The last thing I remember is the sea water rushing into the cockpit. Somehow I managed to get out of the cockpit and inflate my dinghy. Now I floating here, waiting for a boat to pick me up.The End
