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J G

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Everything posted by J G

  1. J G

    EZDOK upgrade

    I have to agree with Joe. I had some compatibility issues with EzDok v1 and abandoned it a long time ago. I rely on the cameras that come with the aircraft and use CameraPosition X when I want a new one. It adds a new camera position or edits existing ones without having to run alongside the FS. And it is only £6.99 from JF.
  2. Indeed, but the mass of the batteries is in the bottom of the sub and stable. The mass of hydrogen would be at the top of the compartment and free to move. However it would be such a small amount so as to be negligible in effect. Unless someone wanted a smoke.....
  3. Hydrogen in a sub. That would make it a bugger to trim!
  4. J G

    a2a fsx

    Thanks Wayne
  5. I rather suspect they have become extinct. Who ever heard of a merman? If there are mermen then they must adhere to the fish way of reproducing. That would make all mermen w**kers!
  6. I see it states that some of the materials used to make modern batteries can give off dangerous gasses if they get wet. That sounds suspiciously lit WW2 submarine technology! I have been looking at changing my car lately. I wanted a hybrid that can take a large dog in the back. The Lexus RX looked good until I found it can only go 30 miles on electric power from its batteries. Oh hum - back to my trusty diesel and bugger the pollution!
  7. J G

    a2a fsx

    I understand that it only provides airline traffic. Is it possible to inject GA and military aviation into it? I know you can create new traffic, but is this by using aircraft that already provided by the program or can you add aircraft?
  8. I was in the Bay of Biscay on a ferry from Bilbao to Portsmouth in a force 10 when I was a kid. All I remember was looking out of the restaurant window which faced the bow and seeing sea, sky, sea, sky etc. It wasn't for long, the view quickly changed to the inside of a stout paper bag.
  9. Leg 34 Part 2: MPMG Marcos A Gelabert Intl (Panama City, Panama.) to MPFS Sherman (Fort Sherman, Panama) I didn’t like this. We were waiting too long for a ride out of here, and for a short hop as well. Putinfeld has a great opportunity to get men here and also to our destination. If we didn’t get on our way soon we ran the risk of being royally fecked over. It had been a week now and it looked like becoming two. It had seemed like Jasmine had been on the phone 24/7 since we arrived in Panama City demanding a replacement aircraft and to know what had been going on with the whole missile attack on the previous part of this leg. No details were forthcoming. I couldn’t help feeling we were becoming more vulnerable by the minute. If I was Tim I would be getting more and more concerned by this delay. The longer the delay the more time P. had to find us and the Baton. The only news that had come through was an update on the discovery of the Putinfeld base found on leg 5, and the news that came through on leg 22 that it had been destroyed. It seems that a nuclear bomb wasn’t the only intention P had for the base. There was documentary evidence that P. had up to a kilo of one of the most dangerous forms of Novichok. Its whereabouts was unknown. This was frightening. A kilo of this agent, that’s enough to kill half the world’s population. Fortunately, the evidence pointed to the fact that it was still in its binary constitute parts and that he hadn’t managed to unite the locations of these binary elements and therefore it was relatively safe. Ongoing investigations were looking at where he got it from, and where the two parts were now. Meanwhile we were whiling away the hours in the airport detention centre, the most secure part of the airport. My accommodation was a luxury apartment, with a whopping 9 square meters floor space, a designer bed, made by Dr. Mengele and Sons of Auschwitz, and an en-suit bucket in the corner. At least they didn’t lock the door, which incidentally, was also a designer Item. Designed and built from re-cycled Panzers by the Krupp group, steel manufactures to the Third Reich. Bijou accommodation. The en-suit bucket is just out of shot to allow you to keep your breakfast. On the third day I woke to the sound of gunfire. I lay back and wondered if Columbia would ever be free of violence. Then I remembered I was in Panama. I leapt out of bed and grabbed my gun. It’s funny how personal opinions on things can go on the backburner in extremes don’t you find? Gingerly I opened my cell door. Jasmine emerged from hers next door, and we peered down the corridor. The firing was coming from somewhere beyond the exit to the detention centre offices. Jasmine was on her phone dialing a number as fast as she could, and after brief “what the fek was going on?” call pushed me back into my cell and shut the door. Then I heard her locking it. “Wait there and I will be back for you” she shouted through the door. Like I had a choice. The sound of firing soon tailed off but it was an hour before Jasmine returned. “Come on you need to get out of here” she said. “What is going on?” I asked, but it fell on deaf ears. We hustled outside and on to the airport apron. There was a Royal Marines Gazelle helicopter waiting on the tarmac, engine running and ready to go. I was waved towards the pilots seat which was vacated by a burly Royal Marine before I climbed in. Jasmine shouted over the noise of the rotors that I should head to the mouth of the Panama Canal and the turn inland and follow it to my destination. Clearly she wasn't commimg with me. Waiting Gazelle helicopter. The radio chirped, it was Jasmine. It seemed that I could relax for this flight. This aircraft was a Royal Marines bird. That meant a couple of things. Firstly there was a Royal Navy ship nearby and secondly she had a full complement of Royal Marines aboard. Hard men and some of the best soldiers in the world, way superior to anything Putinfeld could send against them. Remember, it was 45 Commando of the Royal Marines that, when their Chinook Helicopters were destroyed on the Atlantic Conveyer in the Falklands conflict, marched (“Yomp” in RM slang) all the way across East Falkland and some of the most rugged and inhospitable terrain there is, in the start of the southern hemisphere's winter and then destroyed a much larger Argentinian force at the end of the march. “Yomping” across the Falklands I pointed the aircraft north west towards the sea and then I started to set up the GPS. I had left the airport as fast as a scalded cat and had had little time to go theroug the usual procdures. Then I thought about where I was going. “To hell with the GPS, I am just going to fly along the Canal, it’s not like I can miss it!” Panama Canal map So I would be flying from the Pacific to the Atlantic, or more accurately from the North Pacific (only just as Panama City is in the northern hemisphere) to the Caribbean Sea. The flight would short, but will be interesting as it would be a chance to see the whole Panama Canal with its massive locks, built by the USA just over one hundred years ago. Hover Taxi The Gazelle has excellent all-round visibility and so seeing the sites of the canal would be just about as good as they could be from any aircraft. We would start at the Pacific locks and fort , fly along the Gaillard Cut, across the Gatun lake to the Atlantic locks and to the town of Colon. (There has to be some toilet humor there somewhere, I just can’t think of it right now). On the other side of the canal from Colon was Fort Sherman, now called Admiral Christobal Naval base, a former US base guarding the Atlantic entrance of the canal. This base was handed over to Panama in 1999. As I found the opening to the canal, I asked the question about the shooting again, this time over the radio to Jasmine. The reply came, “Putinfeld sent his men to attack us in the airport security center, He didn’t reckon on half a dozen Royal Marine Commandos dug in around the immediate area. They saw them off with no Marine casualties. I don’t know about the enemy casualties but I believe there were some. Rumor has it that Putinfeld himself was directing the attack, but we have no evidence to support that.” Putinfeld was licking he wounds now and I shouldn’t be bothered for the rest of this leg. The plan was to follow the canal to the other end, drop the Baton with Tim and then fly on to the helicopter to its Royal Navy Ship and safety for a while. When the time came I would be flown out from the ship to the start point of my next leg. The ship was currently off the coast of Costa Rica and steaming north. Panama Canal Pacific Entrance. At the entrance on the canal and its massive docks, I took the aircraft to 130 knots, I Flew over a cruise ship and a container vessel using the Miraflores Lock and another cruise ship entering the distant Pedro Miguel lock. A busy place this canal. The water between them was the first lake of the eastward crossing, Lake Miraflores, a relatively small lake. Good-bye Panama City Shortly after clearing the Pedro Miguel locks the Centennial Bridge passed beneath me and I was over the Cucaracha Reach with the Culebra Reach ahead and the Empire reach in the distance. These, with the further Cascadas Reach and the Bas Obispo Reach, make up the Gaillard Cut. The Centennial Bridge and the Gaillard Cut Twenty minutes into the flight and I could already see the Alantic Ocean in the distance. The canal was only 77 kilometres long, thats 48 miles to those who prefer their distance measured by the Romans. The Mamei turn and Lake Gatun beyond. I over flew over the Gamboa reach adjacent to the town of Gamboa where the canal “S” bends through to the Gatun lake, a large body of water stretching almost half of the distance between the two great oceans. Starting my decent. Having crossed the majority of lake Gatun I start my decent as I near my destination. The Agua Clara Lock As I approach the Agua Clara Lock I see a large American aircraft carrier starting her journey through the canal. She had probably come from the just completed Anglo-American fleet exercises in the Atlantic, to which I owed the presence of the helicopter I was flying. More ships entering and leaving the canal. Lower now, I passed over the Agua Clara locks and into the Atlantic entrance to the canal. The City of Colon To my right now was the city of Colon. Presumably named before the canal and at a time when this area was the arse end of nowhere. I wouldnt be visiting it so I guess I would never be able to see if there was anything in its name. My destination, Fort Sherman Airfield. To my left and rapidly swinging into my forward view was my destination I can now see Fort Sherman. Formally a US base guarding the Atlantic entrance to the Canal, it is now under Panamanian control, the large dock there has been converted into a marina and many of the defences are now overgrown. Landing I had soon landed, and when instructed to do so, I hover taxied to a parking place near the tower. Hover taxi to parking I shut down the aircraft and opened all the doors to get a breeze through the cockpit. The Gazelle has great views from its bubble cockpit, but it can soon turn into a greenhouse with no ventilation running. The whole flight lasted just forty five minutes, one of the shortest I have ever done on any ATWC. Parked, awaiting my return I set off to find Tim and hand over the Baton. I wasnt sure where to meet Tim so I headded over to the marina bar. Once this was done I was to fly the Gazzelle back to its ship somewhere in the Caribbean Sea to the north of here. The fun was over and I had to go back to the world of Putinfeld and now it seemed WMD in the form of Novochok. But that’s a story yet to be told and not part of this leg.
  10. Leg 34 Part one: SKBO Eldorado Intl (Bogota, Colombia) to MPMG Marcos A Gelabert Intl (Panama City, Panama.) At the end of Leg 22 I found myself on the Pacific Island of Niue, I was bundled into a van and taken to a place called Turtle Lodge to wait for Joe to catch us up for leg 23. I was under secure guard as a hitman called Boris Storarovson was looking for me with a view to doing his job. The baton was duly handed over to Joe. There was suspicion in his eyes as he weighed up the Baton in his hands but he said nothing. He had the real Baton but had correctly realized that it was somehow different to the baton he had on his last leg. Music to play when reading this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8mQFdjqvtxM Leg 34. The Hit. We needed to leave Niue as soon as we could as we didn’t want to give anybody with evil on their minds a chance to find me. Niue International airport is only an international airport because you can get a plane to Auckland, New Zealand. This was a problem. MI6’s watchers had been watching the airport and had not seen anyone who looked remotely like Storarovson arriving. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t arrived already. It was the New Zealand flight that he would come to the island on. Any other unusual way would attract attention. The issue was that the service was a once a day round trip. If I went to the airport I would be there when the flight came in from New Zealand and if Storarovson was on the flight in our paths would cross. Not good. The other end would be less risky as the aircraft wouldn’t be going back to Niue until the next day. The bullet had to be bitten so to speak and so we set off to the airport to catch the flight. At the airport I was hidden away until the arriving passengers had cleared the terminal and then I was rushed onto the plane. I had a window seat and had a body guard in all the seats around me, next to me and in front and to the rear of me. The Sebel Auckland Viaduct Harbour Hotel It was deemed easier to protect me in Auckland than anywhere else on my route to my next Leg and so we checked in to the The Sebel Auckland Viaduct Harbour hotel and waited to hear where to go for my next leg. The hotel was like any other tower block hotel, rooms off a corridor, reception and dining areas on the ground floor, lifts and stairs to all floors. The spooks had the stairs and lifts covered and a man in the lobby to observe people going in and out of the hotel. So I was safe enough for the time being. I had left Jasmine on the aircraft carrier and was missing the comfort of her presence. But the body guards were doing their job and I was well looked after. My stay in New Zealand passed off without incident, it wasn’t long before news of my next leg came through from Joe. I was to fly a leg from Eldorado Intl, Bogota (SKBO) in Colombia to Fort Sherman in Panama, and I was to do this via Panama City. Apparently Joe needed something dropping off in Panama City, so it was necessary to break our journey there. Columbia was a bit of a worry. Or at least my minders seemed to think so. Two reason, first Columbia was a fairly lawless place and known to be a haven for the criminal fraternity including drug dealers and assassins, and the second was that my minders had other commitments and I would be down to just two for my time there. This was effectively one as the second would be “off shift” at any one time. It was decided that we would stay in New Zealand for as long as possible. The time came to leave, our flight left Auckland for Santiago Chili at 18:20 on a Latam airlines Boeing 787. After a two hour break between flights in Santiago, we were in Bogota by 19:00 the next day, again courtesy of a Latam Boeing, but a 767 this time. I was knackered so we went straight to our hotel for an early night. The hotel in Bogota was different. Whilst clean, comfortable and with great food, there was a certain weirdness about it, as if the interior decorators were on drugs, perhaps not so improbable in Columbia I suppose. The lounge bar down on the first floor was decorated with a sort of controlled graffiti, as the photo below illustrates. Just slightly disturbing I think. The Wall I had just gone to bed and settled down to read on my tablet. I switched off the light and read in the dark, the only light in the room was from the tablet and from outside’s glowing signs. All was silent, all was still. Then there was a thud, and then another one. From just outside my rooms door. And then another sound, a dragging sound. I glanced at the door, in the dim light I could just make out the door handle turning. Something was wrong, very wrong. Silently I rolled out of bed and on to the ground, stifling a yelp as my knee landed on the gun that I had placed there before retiring. The bed was between me and the door. I heard the door open and there was a flash of light from the corridor as someone stealthily entered. The door clicked shut. This was not good. There were two loud thuds and the bed erupted in a fountain of feathers, lucky for me I wasn’t still asleep! I grappled for my gun, found it, pointed it over the bed and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Fek fek, the safety catch. I moved the catch across and fired again. The silenced gun nearly deafened me. (I found out later that a silenced 9mm fire arm report is still about 125 db, that’s close to a jackhammer at 130 db). My ears were ringing, and I had missed by a mile, making a neat round hole in the ceiling. I fired again and missed again, this time the wooden skirting board splintered an inch from the floor. My would-be killer knew where I was now and it wouldn’t be long before he got to me. I fired again at where I thought he was and a small porcelain figurine on a table by the door exploded some distance from where I wanted my shot to go. I wasn’t getting any better at this. Then there was a hush. Feathers floated down. Bizarrely a feather settled on the stumps of the truncated figurines legs and sat there like a hat. The room was dark save from the light from a flashing neon light outside the window, muted by the dawn curtains. A shadow flitted to my right, I pointed and fired, there was a loud crash as the en-suit toilet bowl shattered, my round had punched a hole in the cheap ply door to the bathroom and buried itself in one of Armitage Shanks finest. There was a loud cough from my right and the bedside phone on the table next to my head shattered. Silence fell again. Then a tinny voice spoke from the remains of the phone; “Hello reception, can I help you?...... Hello?.....Hello?” There was a click and the voice stopped. Suddenly a dark shadow loomed above me, the flickering neon picking out the light blond mop of Storarovson’s hair. Gulp, this was it then. I was done for. Light flooded into the room, someone had opened my room door. The shadow above me was darker now as it was silhouetted by rectangle of bright light from the corridor, it paused and I sensed it turn to face this new intrusion, there was a very loud bark accompanied by a bright flash and something heavy fell on me. It was substantial and stank of cheap aftershave, and it was damp. There was a second smell from this smothering weight on me. It was the unmistakable metallic fragrance of blood. “J.G. are you okay?” a voice I knew too well, and just then the sweetest sound a man could want to hear. The room light flicked on and I struggled to get out from under the heavy lump lying over me. A hand came down, grabbed me and yanked me to my feet. Thank God, Jasmine. I looked down to where I had been cowering, there was a body there now, and blood, lots of blood, all matted in a shock of blond hair. A large portion of Storarovson’s head was missing. I ran to the bathroom and vomited over the remains of the toilet. Terminated Toilet “Lucky I arrived when I did” said Jasmin, as I emerged from the devastated bathroom. “We need to go now, my guys will take care of this mess”. We left the room stepping past my guard who had a lump on his head the size of an egg and no doubt a headache to match. Just then then my phone rang. It was Steph. She wanted to meet in the local Police Station to hand over the Baton. As safe as anywhere I suppose, although I was worried about the level of corruption local police, and, let’s face it, Putinfeld’s was always the one for exploiting that. But it seemed that my fears were unfounded and a covert handover was achieved. As quick as we could we headed to the airport. Jasmine announced that “our aircraft is being refueled as we speak, but first we have to pick up Joe’s package.” We went through security and headed to the posh peoples lounge, not a pleasure I normally get, and one P’s goons never get. Once inside we met a familiar face. I was to take Sharon to Panama City. All of us went straight to the Planning room. We had to cross the Andes and we had two choices. Go high or hug the ground? Whichever way you look at it crossing the Andes meant flying high. Our start point of Bogota is 2640 meters above sea level, that’s well over 8,500 feet to those still back in Roman times, or well on the way to the crew having to use oxygen. However the height of the mountains was much greater than that. We opted for a route that would allow us to be flexible. As it was we were high enough, but we didn’t want to get into trouble going over very high peaks, our options in that situation would be limited. So we opted for a plan that kept away from the mountains as much as we could to give us as much wiggle room as possible. It was just as well we did. We would leave Bogota and head North West to the town of Honda and from there we would fly north to the two lakes of Cienaga Grande and Cienaga Barbacoas. From the lakes we would turn North West again as far as Monteria and then West to Panama City where we would drop Sharon off. Then, for the second part of the leg, it was a small hop North West to Sherman. This route allowed us to fly high as we would like but with the option to change all of that if needed. Plan Map We left our planning room and headed to the gate, down the tube and into the aircraft, an RAF L1101 Tristar K1 tanker. Sharon was going to have to take the role of engineer. I think she had hoped to get a chance to get her head down for some sleep, but someone had to take the third crew position. On Stand We climbed into the Tristar and as Jasmine settled into the co-pilot’s seat I fed the plan into the aircraft. Sharon mooched around in the back. It was raining outside but we would soon be above all that and the forecast for Panama was warm and sunny. I wasted no time in getting the bird ready for takeoff, I wanted out of Bogota as soon as possible, bad things happened here. I raced through the Pilot Functionals, noting that the aircraft was light on everything that it could be, we had no tanker fuel no extra seating and fuel in the main tanks only. The runway wasn’t the longest here and being so high would have an impact. The Before Start checklists were done and I was on to the Engine Start Checklist at the gallop. Sharon was doing her bit managing the APU and soon as all engines were running she shut down the APU and we then raced through the After Start list. Pushback Taxi Meanwhile Jasmine had obtained Taxi clearance and I was all over the Before Takeoff list. As we stopped short of the runway I was switching on the Landing lights, I set the antiskid on, Transponder on and set the Pack Flow. Take off clearance was obtained as I cast a roving eye over the instruments and we were soon lined up and opening the throttles. Takeoff As the Aircraft eased into the air, Jasmine smiled and said “I can see why you want to get away from here but that was done as if you were on QRA*” *QRA – Quick Reaction Alert. High state of readiness. For example the V bomber force would have had at least two aircraft on QRA when they were the UK’s nuclear deterrent and were expected to be airborne in less than 5 mins. We climbed steadily up to 26,000 feet and settled into the first leg, below us were the mountains and so we experienced a bit of turbulence but that was all. Out the window there were some beautiful cloud formation, some of which were typical thunderstorm “anvil” shaped formations. I took a picture of one with my phone but I was a bit slow with my camera, but you can just make out an anvil shaped thunder cloud behind the fluffy stuff. Anvil shaped thunder cloud For the first time since the incident with hitman I started to relax. I knew where I was in a cockpit, familiarity was a comfort. The mountains below petered out and we reached our first waypoint, the town of Honda. I turned the aircraft to 17 degrees and we flew along a broad valley between two mountain ranges Port and Starboard. In the valley the river Magdalena threaded its way northwards as did we as we followed it for 150 km to the two lakes that were to be our next waypoint. 26,000 feet An uneventful cruise took us to the Cienaga Grande and Cienaga Barbacoas lakes where we turned North West towards the town of Monteria, a 250 km leg. This leg would take us over a lot of Jungle and not much else. We had just crossed the Rio Cauca near a town called Caucasia about half way through the leg when our radar warning systems went crazy. Sharon, who had settled in the engineer’s seat behind the cockpit shouted a warning over the intercom. “We are being painted by a P-15 Tropa” radar.” I knew about this one, NATO calls it Fat Face, and it is associated with ground to air missiles, usually the Soviet S-125 Neva or Pechora SAMs, NATO designation; SA-3 Goa missiles. These are usually truck, trailer or track mounted weapons that come in pairs or fours. Old technology, radar guided SAMs that could hit an aircraft as low as 350 ft to as high as 60,000 ft. Main guidance was radar based but some had an auxiliary TV guidance in case of jamming. A good weapon, sold all over the world to potential enemies of the West, including some South American countries. SA-3 Goa missiles This was not good news. We needed to act now irrespective of the intentions of the Tropa radar operator, things had been bad enough to date and we couldn’t pussy foot around with this problem. We decided to go down low as soon as possible, hoping that, if a missile was fired at us our speed would help us and when down low ground clutter would hide us. I put the Tristar into a dive it was never meant to do. Dive – One missile miss! “Jamming”, and then “Missile launch!” Sharon’s voice was strained, “just the one!” - Thank God no salvo yet. - “The jamming is working I think, the thing is headed to where we were.” Just then there was a thud as Sharon fired off Chaff for good measure. And then I saw it. To the left out of the window, a streak of white vapour spiraling away and upward away from us. We had defeated it. By now we were at 10 thousand feet and loosing height rapidly. “What’s happening with that SAM site?” I shouted back to Sharon. “It’s still painting us.” Not out of the woods yet then. 5 thousand feet. Sharon yells “Missile Launch….and another”, 2,500 feet we are pulling out of our dive. 1000 feet …. 500ft and we are level and skimming over the jungle. We have lost one of the two missiles as it went high and confused but the other was still behind us. Down to tree top level now at 550 kts, I see a dip and fly dangerously low into it as Sharon bangs out more chaff. Caught out by the dive and the chaff the missile streaks over us and detonates a half mile ahead of us. There is a bang as we fly into some debris but no warnings show on the panel. Vibration increases a little but there are no obvious problems with the aircraft. “Radar lost contact.” We were free and opening up the range as fast as we could. On the Deck. Note the tail damage! We stayed at 500 feet or lower for the rest of the leg and continued without any other incident to our waypoint at Monteria and stayed low as we turned and headed to the sea and Panama City. We were soon over the coast and flew over the sea more like an Ekranoplane than a Tristar we were so low. When the coast reappeared, we had to gain height to pop over the coastal mountains and then we were in controlled airspace for Panama City with ATC to guide us down to Marcos A Gelabert International airport. The weather was good as promised. Landing. Another fine view of the missile damage. We landed safely and taxied up to the stand. Going through the shutdown checklists we noticed a growing number of airport workers gathering around our aircraft, some of which were pointing at our tail. Shutdown complete and the aircraft made safe we make our way out into the sunshine. On Stand I looked up to see what everyone is pointing at and saw that our tail plane is missing a chunk of its leading edge. We were lucky that whatever bit of the missile that did that didn’t damage the rudder or worse still get ingested into the tail engine. I said as much to Sharon and Jasmine. Sharon smiled and replied, “Thank God we were in an RAF aircraft with all those lovely countermeasures. If we had been in a civilian Tristar the first we would have known about the missile would have been us shaking hands with St Peter”. Now that was a sobering thought. It explained why we had no bother from Ps men at Eldorado Intl. It also meant that the game had changed. Putinfeld was no longer interested in the baton. He just wanted revenge! Jasmine and I said good bye to Sharon in the terminal building and then went over to the bar. The K1 tanker wasn’t going anywhere soon with the tail damage as it was, and so we found ourselves bereft of an aircraft to complete the leg. Time for Jasmine to get on the phone again. Part two to follow..........
  11. Beautiful old bird. Its no wonder they used to call them "kites".
  12. Hi Kevin. Carrier ops is high on my agenda as something to learn however I just don't have time at the moment Also most of the carriers I have found seem to be very poorly detailed and /or not Royal Navy. The two packages you point out look brilliant! I just might have to forgo my RAF only rule and get posted to the USN on detachment.
  13. Happy birthday Brett. Sorry its late, I hope you had a great day. 21 was it?
  14. 'Fraid so. More so when the Purple is deep. 😦 Now, where were we?...... Avarice
  15. Yes...no....wait...yes I can see the sun!
  16. I saw this on the Razbam website on the Harrier page: Does anybody know if this is a new development or has it been the around a while? On the individual download page for the GR7/9 and the AV8B download page only the FSX version is available. I was under the impression that Razbam was not developing for FSX and P3D but were concentrating on DCS.
  17. Hi Martin. I do have it for FSX myself and I like it a lot too. It was just that on one page of the Razbam website it says that it is for P3D as well but when it comes to it there is only an FSX version to buy. I have left FSX behind now and would I like to have this aircraft in my P3D collection.
  18. Thanks, I read that Brett. I guess you would be able to add traffic to a military airfield and I could add some aircraft as long as they were military versions of civil aircraft such as the Airbus A330. What it doesn't say is that you can add your own aircraft. The question I would like to hear an answer to from anyone who goes for the early access version is can you add aircraft? In the past this has been the case, but I guess we will have to see with this new edition. I have both military packs that were add-on for an earlier traffic program, if I could import these aircraft and then use the tools to add them into the schedules that would be great.
  19. That discount is for the early access version. The £3 discount is for those who have bought the online version of Traffic 360.
  20. I think the discount is £3 for what it is worth. This seems to provide traffic for commercial jets, so no military and no GA. I haven't heard of any plans to add aircraft packs to it as they did with earlier traffic programs, but it is early days. I will wait and see what happens with this one. If they add military I will buy it, if they don't, I won't.
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