"Alright boys," Colonel Frank "Fronk" Bishop eased the eight throttles of his lumbering B-52 all the way to their stops, letting the roar of turbojet engines mix with the mildly alarming rattle of the improvised bombardier's window. "We Ace Combat now."
A Navy guy piloting a SAC plane aside, now I know where you're getting the tempo/inspiration for this chapter... and I have found sections wanting. As the descendant of a SAC B-52 commander, there's stuff wrong here.
A chorus of nervous laughter rippled though the bomber's fuselage, the sound almost lost in the multitude of disheartening mechanical noises the big old bomber was making. Bishop did his best to push any concerned about the structural reliability of the big ugly fat/flying fuck to the back corner of his brain.
1. The B-52 does that normally. It's not mechanically unreliable, that's just the B-52 being different than a normal airplane. The G version's made for fast, low-level penetration missions. The only differences H variant has, which I'm assuming is the one you're using here, is new engines and the rear quad .50's switched out for an M61 Vulcan, which itself was removed in the mid 1990's.
2. It's BUFF, not BUF.
3. You've gotta be tough to fly the heavies. Here's
a short,
accurate diary of a routine flight in a B-52 that fairly well explains the... uniqueness, of the bomber.
He'd pushed her faster than this at Edwards, and in thicker air. If the nose hadn't blown off then, it wouldn't now. Besides, he was driving a Boeing-built strategic bomber. It was just one step below flying an actual bunker.
And it handles like one, too.
five-thousand pound GPS-guided bunker-busters
For all its size and power, the modified Stratofortress only carried twelve of the bunker-buster weapons.
Uh... I take issue with the phrasing here. The way it's written up here, you're implying the B-52 can only take 60k tons worth of munitions, max. That is incorrect. The approximate limit is 70k tons. If there's some other reason they're carrying less than a max bombload, that needs to be specified, and each carries its own unique implications. Can't get a re-fueling tanker on-station? That's a whole new box of issues to mull over. Lack of GBU-28 bombs? Defense industry's not looking too good.
You see what I mean?
Nobody'd ever tried GPS-guided ordy against abyssals before
But the GBU-28 isn't just GPS Guided. That was added later, it's primarily a
laser-guided munition. And look, the B-52 has not one, but
two such pods with those systems, among other capabilities. Or has laser-guidance been proven a failure against Abyssal Bullshit too?
"Just one," came the scowled response. "Just one fucking- SHIT! BREAK BREAK BR-" The radio died with a howl as something came streaking out of the sun. Something pouring 20mm cannon rounds into the bomber's slender fuselage.
Explosions and sparks raced along the bomber, smashing its cockpit in a spray of shattered glass and twisted metal. A second fighter raced after the first, stitching the bomber's wing root with its guns and tearing at the crucial load-bearing spars.
Should have taken the time to re-install that rear turret. Also, the B-25 isn't 'slender'. It's called the
BUFF for a reason, it's a behemoth of an aircraft. Secondly, the bolded sentence is more nonsense. If the Hurricane is hitting the area where the wing meets the Fuselage, that's the wing root. If it's hitting the load-bearing spar, those go the entire length of the wing. Look, here's
a cutaway of a B-52. Yes it's in Russian, but you're not looking at the words, you're looking at the wings.
"And I'm a fucking battleship," growled back Jersey, "We're fucking expendable, you aren't."
The rest of the thread has called Jersey out on her BS. Good.
"No." came the battleship's reply. Her voice was deadly serious, and so commanding Bishop swore he heard it over the sound of his plane's engines. "We lost enough zoomies today, we won't loose more.
1. That makes no sense. Jersey was clearly in a conversation with Bishop just now. Are you trying to say it was 'so commanding' that Bishop thought he could hear it without the radio?
The Northern Princess stalked along her deck with her face buried in the machined steel of her choker. Her imps scrambled over her deck like so many miniature ants, fire hoses and shovels trailing in their wake as they frantically repaired what little damage she'd taken.
So that's her ground crew: Imps.
If she had any planes left. The princess balled her tiny hands into fists, the padding of her thick mittens scrunching up as she shook with unrestrained rage. Her planes, her beautiful precious planes lay shattered on the ocean
That's what happens when you get tunnel vision, dearie.
The princess raised one shaking mitten, her bloody eyes locked on the hateful destroyers. "Kill them!" she shrieked. "KILL THEM!"
Still the cutest thing ever.
and even the battleships looked moved as they formed up to punish the abyssals for their actions.
'they', not 'the.
The question bouncing through my mind at the moment is: how enraged is Nagato now?
Mad enough to put Hopo in time-out.
What heresy is this, making Warhound not just Air Force, but also a B-52 pilot?
