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Thanks Louvert, I dont have the 35 hrs as of yet only 15 so cant put in paperwork with Staff. I use the Bop up and down method against the Monoplane Menace so My OB gets off a few shots, but its getting more dangerous as they get closer. In summation, I might not make the 35 hrs for Transfer.

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Carrick, in the BE I favour getting down on the deck when being attacked by Eindeckers. Your observer has no downward field of fire anyway so force your attacker to be above you or underground.

You likely wont shoot him down, but he might make a mistake and spin in with no room to recover. Or get tired and go away. I'm happy with either result in a Quirk

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Originally Posted by RAF_Louvert
Fullofit, always nice to see the sun in the dead of winter, even if you have to climb above the clouds to do it. To your question about the weather here: it was a deep freeze last week and now we're getting more snow. 20" so far this month alone with another 6" on the way today. Still, I'll take it to the -32F temp and -60F windchill we had earlier. How's it been over your way? Do you deal with lake effect snow there or are the winter winds generally blowing from the west and north?
.


Lou, I’m by the lake, so lake effect snow all the way for me. Had snow coming down since morning, now freezing rain to cover that, then they’re predicting just plain rain so that it all can just freeze together and make life miserable. Thankfully the bosses decided to close the office early to try and beat the highway massacre that is just waiting to happen.

Dear Madame Foufou, please resist the urge to “borrow” other people’s possessions to furnish your House of Pleasure. Despite the noble cause these items have been appropriated for, the original owners of said items would not approve or allow such actions. Now, what’s the address again?


"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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Originally Posted by Maeran
Carrick, in the BE I favour getting down on the deck when being attacked by Eindeckers. Your observer has no downward field of fire anyway so force your attacker to be above you or underground.

You likely wont shoot him down, but he might make a mistake and spin in with no room to recover. Or get tired and go away. I'm happy with either result in a Quirk

Does flying upside down confuse the Boche at all?


"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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Great stories all! Fantastic reads Gents.

Lt. Mark Jericho
Auchell Aerodrome

Jericho had heard of Swany getting wounded shortly after debriefing. Walking back to his hut he was not in a cheerful mood. If not for the good work of his gunner, Christian, he may not even be here. Now to find out his hut mate was in the hospital was a bit much. As he entered the hut he saw a batman with Swany's fiddle. "Get your godd#@m hands of that Stewart!" yelled Jericho.

Stewart turned with a start. "I'm sorry Sir! I was just arranging the Lieutenant's things for when he returns Sir!" Jericho stormed over and took the case from Stewart. "I'll take care of Swany's kit while he is away! Now get the h#ll out of here!" Jericho said. "Yes Sir! Pardon Sir!" Stewart said as he made a hasty retreat out the door. Jericho lay the case on Swany's bunk and opened it to make sure it was ok and then slowly closed it back, arranging it on the center of the bunk. He took off his flying kit and started to lay down when there was a commotion outside. "What in blazes now!" Jericho said to himself as he walked back out of his hut. What he saw made him laugh out loud. One of the airmen was coming across the field on a horse at a full gallop! Swany marveled at the beautiful Sorrel. The tragedy was the poor airman was hanging on for dear life! He finally managed to bring the horse to a stop at the end of the field. Everyone on the field was laughing hysterically. Jericho trotted over to the panting airman holding the reigns of the horse. "What seems to be the problem Captain?" Jericho asked.

"When they started the engine on that Morane this bloody animal went crazy! He is supposed to be a retired cavalry horse, I thought they were used to anything!" the Captain replied.

"Well he might be to gunfire and such but obviously he hasn't ever been around flying machines is my guess. It's something new to him. Mind if I give him a try?" Jericho asked.

"Be my quest Lieutenant if dying in the air does not suit you! the Captain replied as he handed the reins to Jericho.

"Thank you Sir" replied Jericho as he rubbed the wild eyed horse's neck. Jericho looked over the animal. It was one fine mount. At least 16 hands and big boned with a very intelligent look. He kept rubbing the gelding and talking to it until it had calmed down and his ears were turned to Jericho and not the idling Morane on the field. At that Jericho moved to the horses side and put his weight in the stirrup and stood up still rubbing the horse's neck. After a minute Jericho eased over into the saddle and relaxed, still rubbing his neck. "That's my boy, no one's going to harm you here. You want to go see what that big nightmare is over there?" Jerico asked the horse. With that he nudged the horse into a walk back to the Morane. When they got within 20 yards of it the big gelding came to a dead stop with ears forward and nostrils flared. He stood for a second and went to turn around. When he did Jericho kept him going in a circle until the horse was facing the Morane again. This went on three times until the horse stood facing the Morane. Jericho reached down and rubbed the horses neck again. After a few minutes the horse started to relax his head. When he did that Jericho nudged him again with his heels. The big gelding went a little closer and the same circus started again. After a few starts and stops they were within 5 yards of the Morane. Jericho turned him away from the Morane and trotted him up and down the edge of the field for a few minutes and then went back to the Morane. The gelding hesitated a little but walked up to it until Jericho stopped him.

By this time everyone on the field was watching the show. Jericho walked the mare over to the Captain and dismounted. "He sure is one fine mount Sir" Jericho said as he rubbed the horse from neck to flank. "That was something to see Lieutenant!" the Captain said.

"Well Sir. He just needed to get a look at it. A horse will stop where it feels safe. You just keep making him face it but don't force him to get any closer than he wants until he feels like it. Is he yours Captain?" Jericho asked.
"I acquired him for the squadron Lieutenant. I thought it might be a good diversion while not flying" the Captain said.
"Well your right there Captain. I don't know of anything better to put a man's mind right than a good horse. What's his name?" Jericho asked.
"I have no idea Lieutenant. What would you like to name him?" asked the Captain.

Jericho stood back and looked over the big Sorrel. How about Moon, Sir?"
"Moon?" the Captain asked with a quizzical look.
"Yes Sir. He looks like he should be called Moon to me Sir" Jericho replied.

"Well Lieutenant. Moon it is" the Captain replied.


Note: If anyone is interested that is horse 101 for "horse boogers"


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MFair,

Excellent work, and a real lesson for this horse booger. Trust me, If that was me, I'd be playing bongo on the field with my skull, one foot stuck in a stirrup. I'm loving the mysterious Mr. Jericho!

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Wonders will never cease. Now we’ve got ourselves a horse whisperer! Great story MFair. Will Jericho shoe him next? And how DID that cow end up in Collins’ shack? You’ve got some explaining to do.

12 February , 1916 8:02
Senard, Verdun Sector
Escadrille N37
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

Durand is stuck in bed with the fever. His place is taken by Sous Lieutenant Nathaniel Roze for today’s flight to St. Mihiel salient on arty spotting. It is a sleepy day with plenty of drizzle and fog. Gaston could barely keep himself awake. In fact, he is certain he could fly this mission in his sleep but S.Ltn Roze would have none of that. He would tap Gaston on the shoulder constantly pointing to something on the ground all the way to and from the enemy camp. Eventually he grew tired of the sights and left Voscadeaux alone to his piloting duties and to his thoughts. Gaston caught himself nodding off near the aerodrome. It was the sudden shift of gravity that brought him out his daydream. Gaston corrected his plane’s attitude and looked like he meant to do it when Roze looked at him part with trepidation and part suspicion. The temporary observer was not impressed.


"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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MFair, another wonderful bit revealed about our Jericho. A man of mystery to be sure!

Fullofit, I hope Gaston can get his regular gunner/obs back soon. It does not sound as if SLt. Roza is a fan of the Sergent.

2nd Lt. Swanson is on his way back to camp from No. 10 Stationary Hospital in St. Omer where he has been since his wounding on the 6th. Even though his left side still hurts like the devil he has been cleared to return to flying duty, and he is thrilled for the news as he was beginning to go mad laying about in the ward. Before he left he was visiting with his G/O, Lt. Christopher Dent, and was very pleased to find that he was doing far better than first expected. When the surgeon went in to retrieve the two bullets in his right shoulder it was discovered that one was pressed tight against the main nerve. Once removed it was but a day or two later when Christopher started to regain feeling in his arm, hand, and fingers. As of this morning the stout fellow is now able to use his hand again and can actually raise his arm an inch or two. The doctor is now predicting that, with adequate rest and recovery, Lt. Dent should be able to return to his regular duties at some point in the future. For now though he is to be sent back to England for at least six weeks, which means of course that Swany will be working with a new G/O on his return to Auchel. The young pilot is fine with that as he is beyond pleased that his former flying partner will make a full recovery.

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Lou, I’m surprised that neither Collins nor Jericho came to visit Swany in the hospital.

13 February , 1916 8:00
Senard, Verdun Sector
Escadrille N37
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

Durand is still sick in bed and Gaston gets physically sick every time he looks at the damp grey skies. Then this little voice in his head that sounds exactly like his darling wife asks him: “Would you prefer to be down there in the mud?” Gaston's immediate response is always a resounding “no” and so, here he is flying another recon mission over the front lines directly north of Senard aerodrome. Along with his wingman, Caporal Papinet and his stand-in observer Roze, they are to note any troop or vehicle movement. Movement? There is plenty of movement with les Bouchers Noirs* mistreating part of the landscape occupied by the Boche. Of course there was movement. The Huns were scurrying away from the shells falling on their heads.

*Les Bouchers Noirs : “ The Black Butchers “ - soldiers in the artillery. The name referred to the colour of the artillery uniforms and the devastating damage their guns inflicted.


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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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Fullofit, we were to busy fighting off the Huns! When the weather went dud the roads were impassable. Besides, I had to make sure his fiddle was not molested in his absence.


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MFair, you are excused. What's your story, Raine? Had to clean the lipstick off?


"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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Full of it: I agree if u can to the deck before he guns U down. as for flying upside down It does confuse me,but maybe not the Huns. On thing that doesn't seem to work is flying in circles with a attacking monoplanes.

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Carrick, the only way flying in circles when defending against an attacking plane works is if you can keep turning inside of them. If you don't have that advantage it is best to get out of Dodge ASAP.

Fullofit, I wouldn't be too hard on the lads for not making it up to St. Omer to call on Swany, there is a war on after all. And what with Jim busy pilfering items for his hut and Mark whispering to horses, it appears they had their hands full.

2nd Lt. Swanson is back in the thick of it with an attack this morning on the railyard at the north end of Lens. His new G/O is a Captain Daniel Craig, a King's Regiment man who transferred to the RFC back in the summer of 1915. He's a bit stodgy, but seems a decent fellow, though Swany has no idea what kind of a shot he is, and no opportunity arose on today's outing to find out. There was a pair of Aviatiks that passed over, but they were too far away to bother wasting ammo on them. The weather was horrible for flying, what with the wind and sleet, but the Brass Hats wanted the job done so off they went. Swany managed to find and hit the target, with one of his bombs igniting what appeared to be a pile of munitions which exploded with a tremendous flash, sending flaming debris everywhere and catching two of the smaller warehouses on fire. After admiring his handiwork briefly the young airmen turned his bus west and fought the wind all the way back to camp. Total time in the air, 2 hours and 16 minutes. By the time Swany was back on the ground his side was aching and he felt frozen through. It took several cups of piping hot tea and a half hour in the mess to get the feeling back in his extremities. Still, it felt good to back in the fight.

A most satisfying sight.
[Linked Image]

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Great shot Lou! Daniel Craig, huh? Did anybody check if this guy’s not a spy? He probably is a hotshot ... with the ladies. I hope the two of you bond.

Last edited by Fullofit; 02/14/19 06:48 PM.

"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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Lt. Mark Jericho
Auchell Aerodrome
Feb. 12, 1916
Today we were tasked with bombing Vimy Junction. Shortly after takeoff my engine started sounding like the clatter wheels of hell! Lucky for me and Christian we had enough height and the engine held together long enough for us to circle back to the field and make a safe landing. While the old crate was wheeled to the hanger, Jericho checked on the new addition to the squadron. Moon seemed to like his new home and Jericho was glad to have him around. The flight returned after a few hours and all were safe reporting no contact and that the railway was damaged.

[Linked Image]

The next few days were well. Swany had returned from the hospital. A bit sore but ready to resume his duties. Jericho hated to admit it to himself but he was beginning to miss the man. Other than freezing half to death and getting shot at for a few hours a day this was not a bad way to make a living thought Jericho thought.

Early on the morning of the 14th, C Flight was to bomb Hallvin Aerodrom. Rain and Snow as usual. Approaching the target the Archie greeted them but it was far from accurate. Jericho was enjoying watching the black puffs when reality hit him and he realized they were over enemy lines and the dreaded Fokkers could be anywhere. He immediately went back to scanning the skies. The dropped their presents for the German fliers and made one circle to assess the damage. When Gridder was satisfied he signaled to head home. The three Moranes turned west as one. Jericho was thinking this might be a good mission when Christian gave him the warning for the enemy. Jericho looked right to see an amazing sight. A Fokker was diving on Gridder and evidently his observer had given the Hun what for as it started to burn and dove past Gridder then in front of Jericho going down in a ball of fire and smoke. Jericho was not sure what Gridder's trouble was but he was loosing altitude. Looking around he saw a Fokker behind them but at some distance. The Fokker followed them to the lines and tried to make one pass but Christian drove him off with a blistering burst from his gun.

[Linked Image]

Jericho made it back to Auchell with Gridder coming in a few minutes later. Jericho was beaming as his flight leader came to a stop near their Morane. He started over to congratulate him when he saw his observer was slumped over in his cockpit. "Oh Lord" thought Jericho. There was nothing they could do. The man had been shot through the heart.


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Aleck A. MacKinlay

February 10, 1916: A routine reconnaissance today north of Ypres. No sign of any enemy aircraft and little action below apart from the odd artillery burst. The entire sector seems rather quiet. Reynolds has a theory that the Jerries are concentrating their attention elsewhere along the front in preparation for a big spring battle that we will get left out of. I really couldn't argue against it.

February 11, 1916: More reconnaissance north of Ypres with no interference from the enemy.

While warming up in the mess with Chris, Mr. Davis entered, apparently with the same idea in mind. He recognized me as the pilot that had ferried him here and, seemingly in a friendly mood joined us. He helped himself to hot tea and stale biscuits, introducing himself as Warren. Chris and I would normally be sociable and ask the usual questions one asks of a new acquaintance in these situations but were a bit tongue tied for fear of probing his apparently secretive visit to RNAS-6. Happily, Warren steered the conversation toward Chris and i, asking about where we were from, how we got into flying, and all that. Surprisingly it turns out that we have a few common acquaintances back in London ... which we figured out when I mentioned the Vickers Flying School. Warren said that he works for Vickers in their design department. This caught my attention and I mentioned to him that I hoped to work for Vickers after the war ends and apprentice there as a junior mechanical engineer. When he found out I was recently graduated from engineering it was like he had found a kindred spirit ... I gather Davis and Buckminster haven't been the most brilliant conversationalists these last few days cooped up in Hanger 1. He is a graduate of the Victoria University of Manchester and we had great fun exchanging stories of pranks and profs for about half an hour before he had to return to his work.



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Aleck A. MacKinlay
February 12, 1916

What a horrible morning; Chenley is dead. We were attacked by two Fokkers as we crossed the Lys River. The Bristols assigned to protect us never saw the threat nor intervened. We tried to keep up a coordinated defense with our rear gunners but it was no use. My engine was shot out and Chris and I had to put down in the rear of our trenches. I watched as Cheney and Weller glided in trailing smoke and cheered when they made a safe landing nearby. But when we got over there Cheney was gone; shot through the chest. Somehow he held on long enough to save Weller and get the plane on the ground. He's a bloody hero! Weller is overcome with emotion and can barely talk, but did sob out that he got one of the attackers. That brings us little solace tonight and everyone in the squadron is in a sorrowful mood.


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14 February , 1916 8:05
Senard, Verdun Sector
Escadrille N37
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

In the news, The Bluff in the Ypres salient was taken by the Germans. It will make life very difficult for the British army stationed there.
Durand is back! How Gaston missed that whippersnapper.
Today’s mission? It’s a welcome change from all the reconnaissance conducted so far. The mission is ... reconnaissance north of St. Mihiel salient. Escorted by Ltn. Dagonet in ‘A’ Flight. A Lieutenant no less! Gaston stayed behind and let the officer earn his extra pay for his navigational skills. Voscadeaux followed the ‘A’ Flight which brought them over the target and proceeded to make large circuits. Someone downstairs did not appreciate them snooping around and tried to chase them away with the concentrated Flak fire. The Lieutenant took the brunt of the attack every time they flew over the batteries. Durand was being jolted by the violence of the explosions while taking notes and lost his pencil. Good thing he had a spare. The 23 minutes they were required to stay over the target passed extremely slowly but eventually they’ve had enough and turned for home.
After their return to the base Gaston felt particularly homesick and decided to write his wife a romantic letter.

[Linked Image]

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From out of my arse take the camshaft,
And assemble the engine again."
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It's been a quiet few days for many of us due to the poor weather, but 77_Scout is a major exception. That was a hair-raising escape, and an excellent video. Your poor wingman deserves a VC. The scene of his landing was outstanding.

An Airman’s Odyssey – by James Arthur Collins

Part Eighteen: In which I discover some of Cpl Wilson’s past.

The weather was absolutely filthy all week, but every night at suppertime the dispatch rider would deliver the orders from Wing and Major Harvey-Kelly would retire after the loyal toast to the anteroom and sit with the flight commanders. And every morning we would take off into the rain, or snow, or sleet, or rain and snow and sleet. We completed our assigned tasks and saw not a thing in the air all week.

They call our machines Parasols for a good reason. If you’ve ever gone out in a windstorm with an umbrella, that is good practice for flying a Morane in driving snow in February. On the 12th, for example, I returned with the Major and Sergeant Adams, a new man. The Major was keeping his hand in the game by spotting for the heavies down near Vimy. As we returned home, I kept a wide berth of the other machines. The wind was throwing us all over the sky. More than once I looked down at the ground, only 2000 feet below due to our need to stay under the low cloud, and saw it unmoving. With the engine at full revs we were immobile! Over the aerodrome, I cut the throttle and kept the nose well down to keep control. Levelling out just above the grass, the Morane suddenly shot skyward, lifted by a strong guest. Then it slipped left and I opened the throttle. Three times I came within inches of settling onto the field only to find us fifty feet in the air. In the end we landed at the far extremity of the field, the undercarriage cracked.

[Linked Image]
Searching for home

I wondered. Were the Huns up in the air, simply hidden by cloud? Or were they cosily ensconced in some château, sipping brandy by a fire and eating sausages while happily abusing Belgians? Were we the only ones playing silly-bugger in freezing fog and driving sleet? I shall have to have a word with General Trenchard when I see him next.

Swanson is back and is serviceable form! He was up in St-Omer for the past week. We’d been told he was shipped to Boulogne. I told him that I hadn’t met a Hun since he left and that I hoped he did not plan to spoil our luck by returning.

My little hut has brought no end of fun to the squadron. On Friday, I found a pig in the parlour. On Saturday, there were three chickens. On Sunday, I burned my carpet. On Monday, I found a French woman of questionable status in a state of dishabillé – she introduced herself as Madame Foufou. Only on Tuesday, 15 February, was I able to head there after a morning patrol and catch a short nap without farmyard friends or fear of scandal! What’s lovely, though, is the way fellows pop by in ones and twos for a drink and a chat. I’ve offered the Wing Padre the use of the place whenever he needs a quiet chat with someone in the squadron, so that may result in an end to the japes.

Because I do not officially live at the field, I share a batman named Higgins with Theobald and Carruthers, who lived a couple of doors down from my billet in town. Lillywhite, who lived at the Poirier house with me, has been troubled by an injury he received last year when hit by a car. He has been shipped home to England.[1] Talbot, an observer, has taken his place.

All this is to say that my own observer, the indomitable Cpl Wilson, has become a self-appointed batman for my little shack. He drops by periodically to do my boots and buttons. I think mainly he hopes I’ll offer him a drink. I shouldn’t, but I do. I find the man an endless source of interesting anecdotes. On Tuesday I shared a drop of Yukon Gold with him and asked him what he meant when he said this was his second time as a corporal. He explained that he came to France with the 2nd Battalion of the King’s Own Scottish Borderers in 1915. Because he was a strong fellow, good with a rifle, and unwilling to take any rubbish from anyone, over the next six months he was twice promoted. Apparently, his battalion was returning to the lines south of Ypres one pleasant afternoon and the newly-minted Sergeant Wilson was ordered to take twelve men ahead of the main body and post sentries outside the drinking establishments of a town they were about to pass through. The Scots know their soldiering, you see. So Sgt Wilson, ever enterprising, posted his men and then set himself outside the town’s largest beer hall. The only snag was that instead of keeping the passing soldiers out of the place, he charged admission. And when the battalion cleared the town, Sgt Wilson was in the back of the place, paralytic with drink. He rejoined his unit two days later, was charged with several offences, stripped of rank, and given Field Punishment No. 1. After that he was made the company runner, only to learn that the previous two runners that week had been killed by a sniper crossing a section of damaged trench, something they had to do repeatedly.

So inspired to join the Flying Corps, he came to be a fixture about the little shed.[2]

NOTES:

[1] Robert Lillywhite was promoted Captain later that year and killed in an accident in November 1916 while flying a DH2 near Catterick.

[2] Wilson’s story is based on my own grandfather’s tale. My grandfather, however, did not make it to the RFC. He served in the trenches from 1915 to 1918 with the KOSBs and, in the latter part of the war, served with a Labour Battalion. He was already 35 years old when he joined the Army. Working in a Glasgow iron foundry made the trenches look like a good idea.

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MFair, that was a tragic tale. Let’s hope we won’t have to tell too many of those too often.
Same with Scout. This week had proven to be deadly. Great video.
Raine, thanks for sharing your personal history. I think Collins will have to keep Cpl Wilson away from the shack, otherwise Yukon Gold will turn into Yukon Gone.


"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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by PanzerMeyer - 11/22/24 06:02 PM
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