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You are welcome Gentlemen. Welcome back Hasse.
"Take the cylinder out of my kidneys, The connecting rod out of my brain, my brain, From out of my arse take the camshaft, And assemble the engine again."
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Dudley Nightshade Flt. Lt. B Flight 6 RNAS
Feb 5, 1917.
The old up and down covering airfields, We put up 9 machines. No Joy.
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Here is the latest status reports. We have someone actually captured, I think that might be a first. Here is the list of our fallen heroes.
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Thanks Banjoman.
That's my guy...I thought I had clicked "Injured", but must have fat fingered it. This is the second 6 day injury for Kurt.
Damned Strutters!
Man, I got a lot of dead guys on there. I think I got Fokker Scourged. In a Fokker!
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Yep, you seem to enjoy producing heroes. Edit: If you give me some back story on Bob I'll include him in my Arthur stories.
Last edited by Banjoman; 02/06/17 02:56 PM.
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Dudley Nightshade Flt. Lt. B Flight 6 RNAS Feb 6, 1917. Mission: Aerodrome Attack. A Flt: 3 N-17 Bis. B Flight: 5 A/c 3 N-17 and 2 N-11 Arm with Rockets. Results: Shot up 2 bldg. and 2 2Seat machines. Losses: 1 N-11 Destroyed and 1 N-17 pilot shook up ( LMF ? ). Remarks: Bloody Cockup. Supply sent the rockets to another unit so we had only machine gun ammo. Enemy flights all over the Target area so had to run like E'll. I shot up one full large drum and kept the rest encase the Huns caught up with me.
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Yep, you seem to enjoy producing heroes. Edit: If you give me some back story on Bob I'll include him in my Arthur stories. Let me get a few hours on Bob. I start giving him a backstory and you might as well start typing his name on the Heroes now!
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Member and provider of banjo music for the Illustrious BOC
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Let me get a few hours on Bob. I start giving him a backstory and you might as well start typing his name on the Heroes now! Too funny! And true!
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A journal of the Great War – By an Anonymous Aviator (Colin Urquhart)Part 3 Work intensified as the first week at Luxeuil continued. On 30 September 1916 we drew the sunrise flight. At 4:30 in the cold of morning, a steward arrived in our cabin (as we Naval fliers call our wooden huts, each divided by partitions into eight separate and private rooms, and each boasting an iron stove in the centre companionway, one at each end). He walked quietly by the first two berths, where my luckier comrades were sleeping. “Wakey-wakey, sir,” he said, and shook my shoulder. “There are Huns that need bombs dropped on in an hour. Tea’s on in the mess, sir.” That was his way of saying “If you were expecting a cuppa in bed, you’ve another bleedin’ think comin’.” I gathered my shaving gear and left it on a wooden chair by the nearer stove. Then I poured water from the pitcher by my bed into an enamel cup and placed it on the stove. As quietly as possible, I placed two small logs on the barely pink embers and hoped for the best. With a towel around my neck I made my way along a duckboard walkway to the ablutions area, a line of galvanised metal basins on tables in the copse behind the huts. The last watch had started an immersion heater, but the chill was still barely out of the wash water. After a quick splash it was back to the cabin to shave and dress, then over to the mess. Breakfast was good tea and hard-boiled eggs, toast, and the wonderfully British invention – gentleman’s relish. It was salty and made you want to drink water, which was never a great idea before a long flight, but I loved the stuff. The mechanics had my Strutter run up and waiting. Armstrong, Collishaw, me, and of course our gunlayers were off to try dropping a few light bombs from the two-seater Sopwiths. Normally we used only the B1 types, the single-seat bomber Strutters, for this. But we were learning to have fun. Our job was to hit the Hun forward positions near Luneville. The flight to altitude was spectacular with the sun rising in the east. Halfway there Armstrong fired the wash-out signal from his Very pistol and turned home with a dud engine. That put me in charge. I led Collishaw down to 4000 feet over the front and we let loose our baggage together. Just as we turned for home, Buck, my gunlayer, fired a burst. I turned about and saw three Fokkers diving on us. One paired off with Collishaw and the other two fastened onto me. It must have been only a couple of minutes, but it seemed an age. I twisted, turned. I fired, and then Buck fired. Jacob Buck is a Mennonite from Elmira, religious but not one of those very traditional types. Nonetheless, I was bowled over to hear him bellowing the most foul curses at the Fokkers every time he fired (we have rigged up a speaking tube system using earpieces joined with pitot tubing). Finally the Huns broke off and we headed home. The fight was inconclusive but thrilling enough, and we took pride in the fact that our machine was not holed. Collishaw had damaged his man but it had escaped. On our return Wing Commander Elder congratulated me with the news that my Fokker from the previous morning’s flight to Luneville had been confirmed. This was the first kill among our latest-arriving pilots, so I felt very proud. On 1 October we flew in the morning to drop bombs on the aerodrome at Sirentz, in Germany. We dropped them from high level, hitting a hangar, but saw no sign of the enemy. On 2 October we flew to the front east of Nancy and loosed our bombs over enemy position, but saw nothing due to ground mist. My aircraft was under repair the next day and I had a day’s leave coming, so I went up to Nancy on the 3rd. Nancy is an old fortress town, and is divided into the Old Town and the New Town, the main different being that the New Town is only 300 years old! It is probably the most beautiful city I have ever seen. I stayed at the Grand Hotel, a wonderful old palace on the elegant main square, the Place Stanislas. My waiter at breakfast in the hotel restaurant spoke English. He was an art student before the war and offered to take me on a tour of the Art Nouveau architectural sites in the city. We had a good walk the next morning. One doesn’t leave gratuities here like at home, but I left him a few francs in an envelope after lunch that day. The fellow had a lame foot which kept him out of the army. I ran into Jamie Coltrane from the Wing and we had a few beers together. In a weak moment he talked me into buying a pipe and some tobacco, a bittersweet smelling blend from the Levant. Life is full of new things. I bought some macaroons which I shall put in a good tin and try to send home to Mum. They are very fine, sweet and brightly coloured. 5 October was a long reconnaissance north to the Luneville sector again. It began to rain and we had to pick our way through the mountains in the low clouds. Needless to say we saw nothing, but got very cold. We play the Americans at baseball tomorrow. "...the elegant main square, the Place Stanislas." "The flight to altitude was spectacular with the sun rising..."
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Dudley Nightshade Flt. Lt. B Flight 6 RNAS Feb 7, 1917. I say, bit of a sticky wicket today. Flew as Tail end a/c on a 8 machine Balloon bust mission. The chaps got the gas bag ,but we were spread out all over the sky. I do believe that this formation caused the Lost of a N-17 that was reported in flames in the Target Area.
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Good report, carrick58. Just why balloon busting missions in WOFF usually assign 5+ aircraft. That seems at least little bit unreal, because balloon busting missions were usually single aircraft missions, early on dawn.
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Good report, carrick58. Just why balloon busting missions in WOFF usually assign 5+ aircraft. That seems at least little bit unreal, because balloon busting missions were usually single aircraft missions, early on dawn. I'm not sure I agree. Mannock, for example, planned balloon attacks with a flight at low level to get the balloon and one at high level to attract Archie. Sholto Douglas, in his excellent account Years of Combat, speaks of multi-aircraft balloon-busting shows.
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A journal of the Great War – By an Anonymous Aviator (Colin Urquhart)Part 4 6 October was cloudy and cold in the morning. FSL Dissette was selected to lead me and Stearne Edwards north to shoot up the Hun aerodrome at Buhl. We were crossing the lines about forty minutes out when Dissette spotted three Huns climbing to intercept us. Following orders, he turned away and we dropped our bombs on the German front line positions and headed home. We’re not supposed to get into any major scraps in Hunland until we are fully up to strength. Commander Bell-Davies is bending the rules, but he doesn’t want to take any losses well over the lines. I was delighted to learn at divisions that I had been credited with a second kill. The Fokker I’d hit with a long range shot the day before had fallen into the French lines in the hills near Thann. We they found the wreck the pilot had a bullet hole in his head, and it was the only round that had hit the man or his machine! It was complete luck. That gives me two confirmed victories, more than any other of our front line pilots. We played ball against the Yanks in the afternoon. They were pretty good, too. They didn’t count on Dissette, though. The fellow was a well-known rower and rugby player back in Toronto and he handles a baseball bat like a toothpick. He single-handedly kept us in the game. Jimmy Glen got a lucky hit or two, and it all came down to the final inning. Flt Comdr Draper had a little wager on the game with Captain Thénault of the Escadrille Americaine. Neither was that interested in the sport otherwise, but the bet made it worth watching. Draper had the wardroom stewards make up bowls of punch for each team. Ours was largely fruit, selzer, and champagne, while the one he made the Yanks was mainly cognac. We won in the final inning only because the Yanks were pretty much paralytic by that time. Captain Elder invited them for drinks in the wardroom that evening. It was perhaps the wrong occasion to extend our hospitality. They’d vowed revenge for the ribbing they’d taken at the Lion d’Or a few nights ago and for the defeat at their national game (and they had by then discovered the punch bowl stratagem). All of a sudden at some secret signal, all hell broke loose and the Yanks went on a wild rampage, nearly destroying the mess and going through our cabins like a tornado. The little partitions that divided our sleeping areas were reduced to matchwood in the fracas. The row ended only with the sound of gunshots. We raced outside to find Joe Fall, our resident Yukoner, firing a Webley at a copy of the drill regulations – held by a none-too-steady Raoul Lufbery! Fall had placed a perfect five-round grouping in the manual without shooting off Lufbery’s thumb. He gave each of the Yanks a page out of the book to remind them what would happen if they touched his abode again. We made a short jaunt over the hills to shoot up a rail junction south of Mulhouse on 7 October. Buck and I took some rounds into our machine from ground fire. We made it away nicely after scaring some ground Huns half to death. On 8 October 1916, it nearly all came to an end for us, though. Flt Comdr Draper led FSL Nathanial Bath and me on a long patrol. We had permission to nose over the lines in the direction of Colmar. The cloud was heavy and fairly low, so we had to squeeze over the mountains and under the cloud as we headed northeast. We had scarcely crossed the lines when I spotted a faint grey speck moving left to right above and in front of my machine, probably two miles off. Even looking directly at it I kept losing sight of the object, which I was certain was a hostile aircraft. I waggled by wings at Draper and made directly for it, alerting Buck (my gunlayer) by means of our speaking tube. We drew closer. It was a juicy great two-seater, but it was heading home now and was skirting over the hilltops, so I could not get below. I lined him up carefully and began firing from a long way off. From 200 yards down to 100 I fired in short bursts. The Hun did not answer back and I began to feel as thought I’d killed or wounded his gunner. I fired again and saw bits fall away from the machine, an Aviatik. Then to my alarm, the Hun gunner came to life and immediately hit our machine. Oil began to smear my windscreen and goggles. I quickly broke away and headed west, clambering for altitude. It took about five minutes to reach the French lines. There was no open ground ahead for ten miles, so I turned north, hoping to reach the open ground near Saint-Dié. It was no good. The Clerget began to misfire and lose power. I was barely a thousand feet above the trench lines and broken trees on the hilltops below and had only seconds to find a place to put down. Off to our left there was a pockmarked slope studded with shattered stumps. It was our best chance. I sideslipped down and hit the ground at 90 miles an hour. The Strutter bounced, floated, and settled back. We snapped branches of the low shrubs and hit a stump. The field fell away to the left and our right wing hit the torn ground and a section of the lower plane broke away. The machine slewed around and stopped. Buck and I unfastened our belts and climbed down. “Done for today, Colin?” Buck asked. I answered rudely. A German mortar round interrupted us, exploding only fifty yards away. We ran for the other side of the ridge and the safety of the trees beyond. "Off to our left there was a pockmarked slope studded with shattered stumps. It was our best chance."
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I say, bit of bad luck old man.
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Dudley Nightshade Flt. Lt. B Flight 6 RNAS Feb 8, 1917. Mission: Rail Bombardment Loc: Loos, Rail yard Jct. A Flt: 3 machines Escort B Flt: 4 machines Bombardment. T/O: 0815 hrs. Results: Damage to rails and build. Losses : None. Remarks: Passed under 2 enemy Patrols in target area. It was just luck that no one dived on the flights.
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Dudley Nightshade Flt. Lt. B Flight 6 RNAS Feb 9, 1917. Mission: Escort 2 Fee's on a Bombardment mission. A Flt: 3 N-17 Bis. B flt: 3 N-17 Bis + 1 N-11 BeBe. Sighted: Flt of 3 Dfw Types off to the East. 5 E/a Scouts. Engaged: 5 e/a Scouts. Results: Claims 0 Lossses 1 N-17 destroyed. + 2 Heavy Damage and 1 Light damage 1 N-11 Lt Damage ( mine) Bombers: one Fee from Rfc 20 Sgn Destroyed. ( spun out of control Remarks: A flight of Huns engaged the foremost machines B flight + 1 from A flt ( 2 of A Flt machines had already turned back before the fight started ). The e/a split up 3 mixing it up Turn and burn while 2 dove for the Fee's. I turned into the 1st of these got off about 93 rds. He pulled level and headed home while his # 2 got on my tail firing. I spun down to the deck while taking a few hits. Pulling out of the dive, I saw him heading home.
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Dudley Nightshade Flt. Lt. B Flight 6 RNAS Feb 10, 1917. B flight had the duty covering Aerodromes. Nothing but clouds in the sky.
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Today Bruce Wayne is no more. He fought valiantly, being wounded in the process by several Hun machines. He was able to drive them off before bringing his own bird home and passing out. Bruce and his gunner's injuries were too heavy to recover from. RIP
"Take the cylinder out of my kidneys, The connecting rod out of my brain, my brain, From out of my arse take the camshaft, And assemble the engine again."
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Bats off to Bruce and his gunner. Quick to the Bat Cave ( his room ) and we can divide his stuff.
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