I'll try to experiment with some things. I know that with some of the "recon" targets there is a thing that you can check which makes it possible for the Recon planes to land on the ground. I'll ask Oleg, I guess. Maybe he knows a way around this. Thanks for pointing that out though Vadson!

____________

Also, I have the 2nd sample briefing written up. I don't know if it's strong or not, all I want to know is if I got some of the cultural element in there. I need you guys to tell me what I am missing. The basis of this mission is that you're flying from one small farm to another small farm and that will be your new base, as the Front lines have moved and your squadron is being transferred to a new location. Anyway, here's the sample brief:

Sample Briefing #2: June 3rd. Small Farm- 27 kilometers North of Novorossijsk:

This is the last day we will spend at this farm. Tonight we fly to a new location closer to the front lines. I will never forget this location, though. The airdrome is on the remains of an old farm. We were lucky to have a smooth dirt road to use as a runway, but still, this is one of the better places we have stayed at in quite a few months. There are few animals or crops, and the farmhouse itself is falling apart from years without repair. However, the place has its charm. There is an old riding paddock not too far from the road, and we are far enough behind our lines that one can walk for many kilometers when they have time off.
Another great thing about the farm is the family that inhabits it. They are a small elderly couple. They have much in the ways of help. The husband, who’s name is D’mitri, has been an excellent hand around the airdrome. While he may be in his late seventies, he still can easily handle an axe and chop for a whole day! One night, when Major Bershanskaya approved, we had a giant bonfire and danced. The wife is a great woman. She is also Tamara, like me, and is in her late seventies as well. but she is a great cook! She is always around to talk to, and seems to have a smile on her face most of the day, even with all the tragedy that has happened to her over the years. She lost her brothers during the civil war, and her parents during the Great War in 1917. We affectionately call the elderly couple our “parents” and to them, we are their “daughters.” Last night, at suppertime before our mission, they took us into their old farmhouse and fed us dinner. It was like a party. I had no idea “mother” had so much strength, to cook for two hundred of her hungry “daughters.”
They also have a sadder side to their story. They share their farmhouse with their grandchild. Their son was married to a beautiful woman, they tell us. They lived in Leningrad, where I was from. Their son had gone off to the war, and within three days of his going to the front, he was slaughtered along with his whole division by German tanks. They were very brave. His young boy was sent out here in the Kuban region after his mother died during the German bombings of Leningrad. Now he lives with his grandparents. I have taken a particular liking to the boy, Vasily. He is barely eleven years old, but he runs around the farm with his arms outstretched, as if he was trying to fly, like us. He has come to know us women well. During the mornings, most of us do not get the sleep that is allowed for us, so we sit and tell him stories. He listens well. A few weeks back, Raisa’s mother sent her up a plush toy bear. Raisa had no way she could possibly use it, so she kept it insider her plane when she flew. When we came to the farm, Raisa gave the bear to Vasily. He carries it around all day now. He named the bear Nadia, because that was his mother’s name. Looking around at this farm, this aerodrome, it brings strength to my heart. People I never would have normally known now look at me as their own daughter, sister, or even mother. Such a strong bond cannot be broken by the torrents of war, and we will not let the Germans try to stop it. This strong belief in our people keeps us going into battle. It gives us even more reason to fight…