<strong>HEINZ VON OBERAMMERGAU</strong><br/><br/>The launcher started working, and all seemed well, but then it stopped and I started feeling rather foolish.<strong>"Very funny, Blue Ridge,"</strong>I snapped into the radio,<strong>"too bad I don't have a rear turret. Oh, but I've got two hours supply of oxygen, fancy that. How do you like yours extra leaded?"</strong><br/><br/>I loaded and fired the shotgun starter, sending both my engines spluttering and soon whirring to life. A massive backdraft blew through the hangar area like a hurricane from my propellers as I set the fuel mixture to rich to make a cloud of nice, toxic exhaust smoke fill the area.<br/><br/>Playing<em>Deutschland über alles</em>with the throttles, I felt the plane strain against the launcher hook with the force being held back, and calmly waited as I let the my propellers and exhaust smoke pour up and fill the hangar room. They could have fun choking, or pull the lever and let me go. Anyone standing within about five metres of my engines at the least would be thrown off their feet. I slipped on my oxygen mask and waited for the airship ground crew to see reason.