Raine, my thanks as well to you for bringing in the personal connection in your latest episode, it adds just that much more depth.
Fullofit, Gaston and his crew could have walked across that flak! Those Hun gunners must have gotten a double shipment of shells.
Scout, an exciting video and reports. Too bad about Chenley, a hero to be sure.
MFair, condolences on your flight loss as well. Yet another hero who will receive la Croix de Bois.
2nd Lt. Swanson and his new G/O, Captain Daniel Craig, are glad to be back on the ground and still alive after this morning's sortie. It started out safely enough with B Flight lifting off from Auchel and climbing up through another wet, wintery haze as they headed southeast towards the railyard at Vitry-en-Artois. The sleet was left behind once above the clouds and the skies were relatively devoid of activity, save for Archie at the mud. The target was fairly easy to locate, the only catch being sure to pick the correct railyard as there were two of them near the town. The Brass Hats had stipulated that the one to the northeast of Vitry-en-Artois was the one of interest. Swany lined up along the tracks and when the large warehouses were sliding slowly under the rear bar of his bombsight he let the eggs drop. Seconds later the young airman watched with satisfaction as both buildings burst into flames.
Job completed, the flight turned for home and no sooner had they done so than Swany's mount started losing power. No amount of fiddling with the mixture could coax the Le Rhône beyond a fast idle, so he pointed the nose of the beast directly towards the lines and held the best glide rate he could. Minutes later Swanson and Craig were feeling much relieved as they slipped over the trenches with 1,200' of altitude to spare. Their relief was short lived when suddenly, from the grey skies above, an Aviatik came swooping down on them. The Hun must have spied them as they were drifting down and surmised they were in trouble, deciding he and his gunner had an easy target. It was a poor decision for all concerned, though far more so for the Hun. As Swany began taking evasive action, (what little he could with a failing rotary), he found out in short order just how good a shot Captain Craig was. While the Hun observer hammered away at the Morane with deadly accuracy the Captain, calmly and coolly, drew a bead on his assailant and unleashed a stream of lead that went directly into the front of the Aviatik and into the enemy gunner as well. The fellow immediately slumped over the edge of his cockpit as the plane carved away, prop grinding to a halt. Swany had little time to admire the Captain's handiwork though as it was all he could do to put their riddled bus down in one piece. Ground winds were fierce and he caught the left wingtip on landing and nearly upended themselves. But luck was on their side and the Morane swung around, bounced on its wheels several times, and came to a stop right-side-up. The two made a quick assessment to determine if either had been hit. Neither had, miraculously. As the shaken but safe pair climbed from their bus they noticed their would-be killers had landed several hundred yards ahead of them, towards the town of Neuville-Saint-Vaast. They began walking quickly in that direction to inspect their trophy and to determine if there were survivors.
By the time they reached the downed Hun craft it was surrounded by British troops from a nearby encampment who had already removed the body of the gunner and had the wounded enemy pilot sitting outside of the plane. The Captain immediately ordered them to post a guard on both the enemy plane and his as well, to take their prisoner to the nearest dressing station, and to direct the Captain to the nearest telephone. Before the Hun flyer was hauled away Craig asked him a few cursory questions in halted German, to which the fellow would only give his name and rank. The Captain also went through the man's pockets, checking for maps or notes or any other information that may prove useful. There was little apart from some loose coins, a lighter, a crumpled pack of cigarettes, and a dogeared photo of a comely young fräulein.
It took a couple of hours for a crew to arrive from Auchel to retrieve the broken Morane, so it was mid afternoon by the time Swany and the Captain were back in camp filling out their AARs and claim forms. After that, 2nd Lt. Swanson went to his room where he played his Hardanger fiddle for nearly an hour in an effort to calm his rattled nerves. Jericho was out somewhere, likely tending to Moon, which was just as well. Swany wanted to be alone with his thoughts. While he was fighting off the Aviatik he had felt nothing but an urgency to do what needed doing. Now, however, with the threat removed and the battle several hours gone, he was feeling just how close he had been again to death. It was unnerving, frightening. He wondered if it was going to be like this now after every encounter, or, if he lived long enough, would he become callous towards it all. Neither option was a good one.
Lou, that was an exciting adventure. Dangerous yet exciting. I had the James Bond theme going in my head while I was reading about Captain Craig's escapade. Hope you get this one confirmed. With so many witnesses it's a
15 February , 1916 8:09 Senard, Verdun Sector Escadrille N37 Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux
We had a new man arrive today. Not just any man. A Chinaman! Yes, Caporal Etienne Tsu. He was born in Shanghai, but gets annoyed when asked if he’d ever been shanghaied. Of course, everyone had seen Charles Chaplin in “Shanghaied” last year at the moving pictures and the jokes kept coming in. Someone even brought a mallet.
Etienne was very patient and explained to Gaston that it is better to ignore such japes than to get carried away and get upset. Voscadeaux thought it was a wise approach. Let them get it out of their system. He found out Etienne came to France in 1890 to study mechanical engineering which was paid for by his father Nicolas, who was a banker. He graduated from the School of Mechanics of Lille in 1903 and returned home to conduct research in the field of shipbuilding and later automobile industry. In 1911 his interests shifted towards airplanes and he returned to France in 1913 to learn to fly. He was licensed a year later and joined the French Foreign Legion when the war broke out. He then enlisted in the military school and received his military pilot license #1968 in November. He then attended the scout school in December and finally spent some time at RGA before being posted to N37. Gaston was fascinated by his story and hoped one day to fly alongside the Asian pilot.
For now it would be Sous Lieutenant Nathaniel Roze as his observer again as Durand developed a nasty cough and requested leave to recuperate. It would be arty spotting north of Chalons. The day was just as unpleasant as so many before it. Heavy clouds and rain. Gaston hoped to gain enough altitude to break through to the sunny side, but the clouds kept on persisting. They have made a few passes over the target but the visibility was so terrible that even the largest of explosions would remain obscured. The good news was that because of all the clouds they’ve remained invisible to the anti-aircraft artillery. Not a single shell of Flak was lobbed at them. Every cloud has a silver lining.
"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."
Fullofit, an interesting and educational episode. Well done! And I love the movie poster. As to your comment on Captain Craig's escapade, it did nearly end in a Skyfall.
MFair, at the rate it's going I'm hoping Swany simply lives long enough to become an ace. It seems iffy at this point.
Thanks Lou! It nearly did end in a Skyfall, but instead they decided to Live and Let Die. BTW, I've never seen an Aviatik attack anything on its own initiative. How crazy was that?
"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."
Fullofit, I thought it very odd as well that an Aviatik would initiate an attack. I do have a possible theory though. As Swany and his G/O were gliding down towards the mud there was a go-round in progress quite some distance above them that looked to be between a pair of Aviatiks and several Nieups. Perhaps one of the German planes in that fight dropped down as an evasive maneuver and suddenly found itself next to yet another hostile plane. Whatever the reason, to Swany and Craig it still appeared as a dreaded Spectre.
I can definitely take a Quantum of Solace from your explanation. All I know is that with an ailing engine, an Aviatik on my tail would scare the Living Daylights out of me and the World is Not Enough to change my mind about it. Good thing Craig had a View to a Kill and a License to Kill. He really was a Man with the Golden Gun and a Goldeneye. You both lived to Die Another Day because Tomorrow Never Dies. Sheesh!
"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."
Good choice Lou, but you’ll have to fly Solo on that one.
"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."
Very nice Lou, but stop Kur-yakin’ and write us a combat report.
"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."
"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."
First thing this morning 2nd Lt. Swanson and Captain Craig enjoyed a nice, quiet recce of the front lines between the ruined towns of Vimy and Athies. Nothing in the sky other than their two flightmates and some light Archie. The pair were flying one of the back-up Moranes as their bus would require two days of repairs to have it airworthy again. The CO however did not want Swany to sit out that long, feeling it would be best to get the young pilot back up again ASAP so as not to risk him losing his nerve after yesterday's near disaster. It was a wise move. Swany had been very apprehensive about crawling back into the cockpit and winging off into the deadly skies. However, after ninety minutes or so of uneventful flying he was feeling more himself again, and as they were returning to Auchel he actually found himself enjoying the outing, as much as anyone can enjoy such an outing over a war zone. However, upon landing, and after turning in their reports, Swany's mood took a nasty turn when the CO informed him and Captain Craig that the Aviatik they had forced down was being awarded to an MG unit dug in at Thélus. According to their commander his men had been firing on the Hun plane as soon as it had come into range and it was the many hundreds of rounds his crew had pumped into the craft that had resulted in its downing. The fellow had apparently gone and inspected the trophy personally and noted all the venting in the wings, tail, and fuselage as proof positive the claim belonged to him and his gunners. Apparently, he had noted in his report to HQ that, while he appreciated the assistance of the two men in the British plane who served as "bait" to bring the German craft within range of the ground guns, it was clearly the efforts of his lads that had brought down the German plane, and in one piece no less. Whoever the braggart was he must have had some pull with the powers-that-be because he and his unit were awarded the confirmation. As angry as the young pilot was about the whole affair, the Captain seemed to take it in stride.
"No need to get your feathers in a ruffle, Swanson", Craig stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "It's still a Hun ship in our possession and one less in the air harassing us, no matter who gets the tick in their column."
The elder officer's words did nothing to stem Swany's ire. What did seem to help him calm down was the two hours he spent dropping one of the dead trees near the end of the runway and chopping it into a mountain of firewood. He didn't care that his left side ached through the entire exercise, if anything the pain caused him to push harder. Afterwards he took a cold shower, cleaned himself up, then went back to his room where he downed several drams of the Akvavit he'd received in the Christmas package from home. With that done he then grabbed stationary and pen and headed over to Jim's hut to see if he couldn't park himself in a quiet corner while he wrote a letter to his family.
"Ridiculous", he muttered to himself as he hiked across camp towards the hangars. "Bait!" he shouted out at one point. "A man nearly gets himself killed bringing down an enemy plane and they..." The rest of his rambling trailed off into space, which was just as well. At that moment what he thought of HQ, the MG unit's CO, and the British Army as a whole, was best left unheard.
Today's flight was to bomb the front lines near Armentieres. "At least we have some escorts this trip" Jericho thought as he checked over his Morane before takeoff. Another day of rain and sleet but it was supposed to clear over the target. Jericho was getting a belly full of rain and cold. In the air the three machines were being thrown all over the skies by the wind. Jericho was constantly pulling or pushing on the stick and going back and forth on the rudder bar. By the time they made it to the target Jericho was exhausted. They dropped their eggs and circled once then Gridder headed the flight back to base. Jericho had been eager to see a Hun machine a month ago but now he was happy if they never saw another. After an hour and a half in the air they were back at Auchell. All Jericho wanted to do was to get dry and warm up.The major had given them a hardy congratulations for their efforts.
That night as Jericho and Swany lay in their cots the rain started to come down hard. "Reckon we will be grounded tommorrow?" Jericho asked. "That would be my opinion" replied Swany. "You still got that letter to my mother Pard?" asked Jericho. "Sure do" replied Sway. "Why don't you write her yourself? I have't seen you write a letter since I've known you." There was a few minutes of silence before Jericho slowly tossed his blankets to one side and sat on the edge of his cot, his eyes staring into nowhere. "My Father was a smart man. Worked hard and made us a fine living. He passed away a few years back. Well, my uncle came to live with us. It worked out good for a while. He kept the farm running and was good to me and mother. Then he started drinking. He was one mean SOB when he was in his cups. Then I went off to the University of Mississippi to get an education. That's something my father always said. Get you a degree and you can do what you want." Jericho got up to put a few more sticks of wood in the heater and sat back down. Swany was not really in the mood to hear Jericho's family history but listened anyway.
Jericho continued,"Well I came home for Christmas my first year. I could tell something wasn't right but Mother would not say anything, Then one night my Uncle got into the whisky again. He was really on a tear that night. He was badgering my mother about this not being right and that not being right." I told him he needed to go to bed. When I said that, he got up and came at me. D#@mned fool was so drunk he tripped over his own feet and fell to the floor. My mother went to help him up and he slapped her across the face. Now I knew what had been going on and why mother had been acting so strange." Jericho stared into the dim light as Swany sat up on his cot looking at Jericho.
"Well that just would not stand. I pulled my 45 and told him get out and never come back. He got up and told me he was going to teach me a lesson" Jericho paused, "Then I shot the b@*$A=ard right between the eyes."
"You shot your Uncle?" Swany asked with wide eyes.
"I don't stutter Pard" Jericho stated matter of fact. "I didn't want to stay around see how it would come out as he was unarmed. I sure wasn't going to jail for that SOB. Mother and I got our stories straight and I lit out west on our best horse. I told her I would get in touch with her when I thought it safe. That was 4 years ago."
Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end. BOC Member since....I can't remember!
Lou, that MG commander was mean! Sorry, Swany didn’t get the credit. Patience, there’ll be more planes to down, more no witnesses and more MG commanders to claim your kills. Such is military life. MFair, I’m glad you’ve decided to share with us more of Jericho’s murky past. Great read. Hope the past doesn’t catch up to him.
All flights are cancelled for today due to worse than usual weather. Gaston decided to wash his socks.
"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."
Lou, the unfairness of it all. Curse the MG company, curse Wing, curse Brigade, curse the whole bloody Flying Corps and Army. Just don't curse Jericho. That boy will gun you down!
Karl Arnt Lofthoven Hasn't cone much reporting because a) you guys are way better, and b) he hadn't seen even a burst of Archie in hie several boring flights. Pretty much every flight has been "go up to St Die ( across from Colmar), and take pictures/spot for artillery/look for troops. 30ish minutes up , do a few circles, and 30ish minutes back. the most excitement has been when the motor would die, or he's reach for his coffee, and move his stick a fractio nof an inch and stall the plane. Not complaining, mind, you, since the aviatk B2 is slow, not very maneuverable, always close to stalling, and oh yesh, un armed. So now he's told to go over to the lines west of Mulhouse (hey, somewhere different). By the time he saw three dots ahead of him, it was too late, he Turned for what it was worth, but it was so absurdly lopsided that one of the EA was doing barrel rolls behind him. The end was inescapable; Karl Arnt is dead.