In 1941 September 6th, I was been ordered to fight with a whole squadron of Bf 109s, there was like 20 of them but we only got 17 Yak 3s. We were the tank destroyers, so we've got 1x 20mm and 2x 12.7mm Berezin UB machine guns. At the 7th, me and my squadron flight over stalingrad, scanning the skies. We went up the sky for like 20 minutes until we spot a 2 He 111 at the 10 o'clock low, I told red one, red two, and red three to dive and clear these bombers, then get back to position. Meanwhile, we 14 keep scannning again for like another 10 minute but one of red 3's wingman spotted a lot of dotes flying to us. It must be IT. The He 111s had been cleared so we raced toward the enemy hoping that gun-range will be in soon.
"Five," I counted.
"Four, three, two," my heart beated.
"One-Fire!" I shouted: triggering the fire button harshly. Twinkles of guns and cannons flashed in front of my eye. Hopefully I was only been hit by two shots, but I managed to take down one plane.
The big dogfight began. I chased a grey-coloured 109, it first went hard right, but he didn't realise that Yak-3's hard right is much powerful than his'. My gunsight touched right at him, as I splashed at his plane. His plane was spraying fuel everywhere, he stalled. I dived right away and chased after him. A few shots later, he exploded so I went up and aimed at a 109. It had been strafed so bad, so its been taken down quickly. Suddenly, I spoted the squadron leader, so i called my wingman to follow me and take him down. The jerry was quite smart and dodged a lot of my wingman's shots-we chased along the river so far and so many shots, but we just cant get him. But at once, he dived down and was almost touching the river.