It's been difficult to keep up given real-life commitments recently. Jerbear, I continue to be an avid fan of Goode. Your story of his near-fatal collision was a true nail-biter. Very well done! Robert, great video. That was a giant fake wooden balloon, I think. Carrick, you're an amazing trooper. Great photos.

Here is the latest from Geoffrey Corderoy, who is going to a new squadron.

Diary of Maj. Geoffrey Corderoy, 43 Squadron RFC
Part 57: 23 February 1918 – 1 March 1918

23-24 February 1918 – Poperinghe aerodome / Dunkirk

Awoke to high winds and sleet rattling on the tin roof of the hut. Flying was out of the questions so had a good sleep and caught up on letters. Brother Reggie is bound for Egypt after all, flying RE8s. Wrote him to send commiseration.

Wrote recommendations to promote Koch and Seth-Smith to lieutenant.

We had a tender laid on to take all interested parties to Dunkirk for shopping. Bought shaving soap, brandy, a small carpet, and a couple of good books. Quigley and I discovered a little place called the Café au Centre at Malo, and had a fine tea.

The weather being unfit, several of us decided to overnight in the town and stay on until the next morning. I had to arrange a drive home as there was a conference at Wing to attend in the afternoon. The Huns are looking to make things hot when the weather breaks, it seems. Lieut-Col Van Rynevelt confided that a move was in the offing for me.

25 February 1918

Wing called around 10 and ordered a flight to chase off some Huns over Choques. Rushed off with all available, including Hobson and most of his flight. Patrolled over Choques for an hour but no one showed up for the party.

26 February 1918

Joined Gorringe’s flight to attack the Hun field at Haubordin. We came down through the cloud and hit their hangars and sheds quite successfully. Poor little Huns were running about with the breeze nicely up. Gorringe spotted some two-seaters off to the east and we climbed to attack them as they headed home. I got behind one and shot him about, but the crew was keen and the gunner managed to get a few bursts in my direction during a turn. The rounds cannot have missed by much, for the odour of phosphorous was very distinct as they passed, and at least one round hit my machine forward of my position.

Discretion being the better part and all that, I turned west and climbed away, accompanied by Rankin. Scarcely had we crossed over no man’s land than the revs dropped away and the prop windmilled to a stop. I stared out over a mass of torn brown mud under a grey sky, looking for a place to put down. Our trenches passed below and I could hear cheering and see the upturned faces of the poor buggers who lived and fought down there. Then ahead I made out a narrow guage line heading back towards Amentieres, and resolved to put down alongside it. I stalled the Camel into the muck beside the line and came to a stop in mere feet.

27 February 1918

Line patrol south this morning, joining Gorringe again. We took off at ten amidst falling snow and climbed into the sunshine. Orders had been to patrol at 10000 feet, but Gorringe pushed higher, looking for clear visibility. My ear seemed to hold up well.

Patrolled up and down from Lens to Havrincourt for an hour and a half, seeing not a thing, and then returned frozen and miserable to Poperinghe.

On landing I was handed orders from Wing that I was to be transferred to take over as OC of 43 Squadron, another Camel squadron, based at La Gorgue. After lunch I packed everything into the Standard and headed for Mont Rouge to see the Wing Commander.

I had to wait for twenty minutes before the striking Boer emerged from a meeting and I began by informing him that I was reporting to La Gorgue that afternoon and thanking him for posting me to a front-line unit.

“Depending on the enemy you might be in the thick of it or you might be pulled back,” he said. “Your new lot have been decent enough, but HQ thinks you can get more out of them. There have been hints that the unit is earmarked for new machines, and it will be your job to ensure they deserve them.”
“Bentley Camels?” I asked. The RNAS had already received these 150 hp machines and were very pleased.

“Can’t say,” said Van Ryneveld, but his smile betrayed somethings.

“Snipes?”

“Oh God, those things are a long way off. But,” he said with a conspiratorial grin, “I hear that a Snipe will be sent over to 1 AD for evaluation. If you’re available I’ll give you a call to take it up.”

The drive to La Gorgue was miserable. The poor little Standard skidded all over the place and twice I needed to recruit some willing Tommies to push the thing up hills, but at five o’clock I pulled up to the squadron office – the same little building I’d reported to when I first arrived at 46 Squadron in May of last year, fresh from England. A dusting of snow covered the field, but the cindered runways were visible and the row of Nissens, including old No. 3 that I’d once called home. The RO was a pleasant fellow named Purdy, and I was introduced to the Engineering Officer, a chap name Greene. Purdy reviewed the squadron organization with me.

The three flight commanders were all British. We had far fewer colonials than most squadrons. There was Trollope on A FLight, who’d flown with 70 before I was there He’d had a flight since the summer battles. Balfour had B Flight. He’d come from the King’s Royal Rifle Corps and flown Strutters with 43. Had the MC. Then there was Woollett in C Flight, also with an MC. He was described as a bit of a character. I’d get to know the others at dinner. The one name that stood out was Lieut. Charles Chaplin Banks – his real name, I was assured. In fact, he’d recently arrived in France from HE, where he’d won an MC downing a Gotha in January.

28 February 1918 – La Gorgue

Despite the snow, we had several patrols this day. I joined Trollope on a DOP to Avelin. On the return trip we ran into a group of Albatros D5s near Houplin. The fellows handled themselves well. I managed to get onto one Hun, a yellow machine with a black tail, and sent him down out of control. Unfortunately no one saw him crash and he remained officially only a “driven down.”

[Linked Image]
"I managed to get onto one Hun, a yellow machine with a black tail, and sent him down out of control."


1 March 1918

We are trying to close the eyes of the Hun, and so were ordered to attack their field at Lomme, south of Lille. I joined Trollope’s crew again and led the attack, hitting the hangars and sheds heavily and destroying two machines on the ground. We lost a new man named Bliss. No one saw his end; he simply failed to form up when the attack was done. The Hun Archie was surprisingly good. One puff erupted under my machine, throwing it up a hundred feet. Just as happened the week before, the engine cut out over no man’s land and I put down in a snow squall, again next to a rail line.
Attachments
Rejected Alb.jpg