Something different from my usual 1/35 builds.
For a change, I tried my hand at a 1/16 Heng Long RC Tiger I. Mainly a repaint and weathering project, inspired by Tigers of schwere Panzer-Abteilung 503.
The crew is 3D printed, and I’ll probably keep adding small details to the tank over time.
Hope you like it — feedback is always welcome!
“Briefing Before the Final Flight”
In memory of the crew of B-25 Mitchell 43-36192.
Pilot — 2nd Lt. Robert J. Knauf
Co-Pilot — 2nd Lt. Martin H. Mulner Jr.
Navigator — 1st Lt. Lloyd E. Bodell
Engineer-Gunner — Cpl Harold O. Montville
Radio-Gunner — Sgt Tennyson C. Harrell
On May 26, 1945, the crew took off from Clark Field as part of a low-level strike mission against the Byoritsu oil refinery on Formosa.
Over the target, the aircraft was hit by anti-aircraft fire in the left fuel tank. Moments later, the bomber crashed at the edge of the refinery in a fiery explosion.
The crew never returned.
"New Faces" North of the Somme, France – Summer 1940
The sun hung heavy over the dusty fields of northern France. The shimmering warmth of a long summer day lingered between the old stone houses, and fine, light dust lay on the road, stirred up anew by every passing vehicle. On the edge of the village, an Sd.Kfz. 251/3 was parked beneath a weathered house with green shutters. Its long antennas swayed gently in the warm breeze. Sergeant Heinrich Voss leaned against the side of the half-track, silently watching the road. He waited for further reports from the front. In the distance, a small group of infantrymen appeared. Five men. A machine gun squad. At their head marched Corporal Karl Brenner. Behind him walked Private Otto Weiss with the heavy machine gun mount slung over his shoulder, Private Wilhelm Hartmann, and Emil Krämer. The youngest of the group, Franz Keller, barely nineteen, brought up the rear. Voss glanced at the men only briefly, but his gaze immediately fell upon Brenner. The sergeant recognized that expression. Brenner didn't march like a man heading to the front for the first time. His face seemed heavier than the others'. Tired. Pensive. Almost empty. Not because of the long march—but because of what he had already seen. Just a few days earlier, Brenner had lost part of his old unit. Among them had been Josef "Sepp" Maurer. They had known each other since their school days near Koblenz. Drafted together. Trained together. Sent to Poland together. Maurer had been one of those men everyone believed would somehow survive the war. Loud, quick-witted, always with a joke on his lips. Until a single burst of machine-gun fire during an advance ended it all. Brenner still remembered Maurer lying motionless in the ditch, his steel helmet half-slipped, while orders continued to be shouted all around. No heroic death. No last words. Just dust, heat, and sudden silence. Something inside him had changed since then. And now new faces were walking behind him. Young soldiers. Brenner wondered how many of them would survive the summer. Even more, he hated the thought that he himself was leading them to the front. As the group marched past the half-track, Voss's gaze lingered briefly on Franz Keller. The boy was still wearing almost new boots and looked exhausted from the long march. For a moment, the sergeant thought of his own son back home. If the war dragged on much longer, he would probably be old enough for a uniform himself in a few years. Wordlessly, Voss reached into a small wooden box beside him, pulled out a slightly bruised orange, and tossed it to Keller as he passed. The young soldier caught it with surprise and looked over at the half-track in astonishment. "Don't eat it all at once," Voss said with a tired grin. "Otherwise, you'll be marching faster than the rest of us." Otto Weiss snorted briefly in amusement, and even Wilhelm Hartmann had to grin. Keller also smiled briefly before carefully putting the orange into his bread bag. Only Brenner didn't smile. As he passed the half-track, his eyes met the sergeant's for a brief moment. And without exchanging a word, they both understood exactly what the other was thinking. Then the small group continued marching up the dusty road, out of the small village and onward toward the main battle line, somewhere west of the Somme.
Kits Used