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Lou, finally some nice weather and the sun! Why do you think you were not attacked this time? The little Fokkers can't hide in the clouds? Maybe Huns are like Orcs and hate the sun? Hope this weather holds.
Scout, that are some terrible flying conditions. Cheer up, it looks like the weather will improve and soon.

26 February , 1916 8:07
Senard, Verdun Sector
Escadrille N37
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

The French trenches were abuzz with Joffre’s new orders. There will be no retreat at Verdun. Any commander who retreats will be court-martialed.

It was no different in the air. With beautiful weather, reconnaissance missions above the front lines have been stepped up. Gaston’s flight took him north of St. Mihiel salient. With three-element escort no Boche pilot dared approach them. It was another successful mission. The brass will have something to be cheerful about.

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And assemble the engine again."
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Bud Bert Bogart hales from Billings, Montana. You know, ""Big Sky Country" So after 1910, when word made it out there that some Easterners had a machine to git you up into the sky, hell, it was just a matter of time 'fore Bud got the itch. Come '14, he was disappointed in his Government about not fighting the Good Fight right off, but he wasn't gonna let that hold him. We'll let his "biographer" pick it up here:

"Bud signed up in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan, itching for adventure. He joined the 28th Battalion (Northwest) of the Canadian Expeditionary Force under a Lt-Col Embury. They began basic training in Winnipeg, Manitoba and shipped out to England on 29 May 1915. They trained on the Salisbury Plain, where he saw many RFC machines flying from Netheravon and Upavon. While there he bought a motorcycle, falls off it, and breaks a leg. Poor Bud missed much of his training due to the injury.

Ed. note: in r/l a few years back, I had a bike, got clipped and broke my leg. Raine, how'd you know that?)

On 18 September 1915, Bud’s unit shipped out to France as part of 6th Infantry Bde, 2nd Canadian Division and Bud was left behind.

Bud, however, anticipated this and made plans. While on two weeks’ leave that summer, he headed for Hendon (North London) and paid for flying instructions at the Hall School of Flying. On 22 Aug 1915 he earned his Royal Aero Club certificate on a Hall biplane. In September he applied for and was accepted for transfer to the RFC. He completed his initial classroom instruction at Oxford and his advanced training at the Central Flying School at Upavon.

He earned his wings in early February 1916 and was shipped to the pilot pool at St-Omer. After about a week there he was finally posted – 18 Sqn at Treizennes / Aire. "

He wasn't sure what would be trickier, getting the hang of the bird, or how to pronounce that town.

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Lofty, another yank in the mix! Welcome back.


Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end.
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Lou, Swanson is a 100%, bona fide, BOC-approved Hun-getter! You must be attracting all of the Eindeckers in Flanders, because I’ve scarcely seen a Hun these days. Not that I’m complaining, of course.

Fullofit, that first near collision was a dry throat special! I hope you get to a single-seater soon!

Hasse, I’m sure your moment is coming. In the meantime, enjoy the scenery and try not to become part of it. Julius’s crash on 21 February made for gripping reading. Well done!

Carrick, love the gunnery practice.

I’ve been on the road recently with work and tonight got caught up only to 25 February. MFair, I’ll mention Jericho’s kind payment in the next segment as it’s a 26 February entry.

An Airman’s Odyssey – by James Arthur Collins

Part Twenty-One: In which I nearly bring a Hun home for dinner

On 23 February we escorted Captain Mealing’s machine south to Fricourt in the Somme secton for an artillery shoot. I begged the captain to let Wilson spot for the guns but he said the weather was too bad to put a new observer to the test. As it happened, it was a milk run with only the lightest Archie and no sky-Huns about.

Received a parcel from home with a lovely fur jacket that can be worn over my leather flying coat. The thing makes me look like a sheepdog!

The news from the French front around Verdun suggests that the war might be decided without our seeing the main action. If the French manage to hold until the weather permits us to attack in Flanders, perhaps the Germans will find they have too much on their hands. I am optimistic, but the size of the German assault is impressive.

The weather on 24 February limited our patrols, but Mealing and I were ordered to take advantage of the low cloud to surprise the Hun aerodrome at Bertincourt. Apparently the place is occupied by some very keen Fokker jockeys. I’m afraid I was not overly keen on the idea since it is rather far into Hunland and we would be compelled to fly below 350o feet the whole way.

We climbed quickly to altitude and headed due south for about 15 miles before heading southwest for the objective. Our route took us close to Monchy and directly over a balloon position, so we were warmly escorted by Archie bangs and puffs most of the way once we crossed the lines. Several times I heard fragments pass very close, but was surprised that not a mark appeared on the Morane. Wilson leaned forward to express his crudely-worded discontent with the whole concept of the mission. It paid off, however, for Mealing brought us directly onto the aerodrome, which lay along a road between Bertincourt and Vélu. Many of the hangars were half hidden by woods on the north side of the field, but two machines and a small group of ground crew were visible. We lined up with the hangars and made a good run, seeing bombs explode among the hangars and sheds, including one direct hit on a shed. Mealing circled about to regroup, but the Huns were pushing several machines out to come after us, so discretion being the better part and all, we headed due west for the nearest lines.

The next day was the first dry day in a while, although the cloud cover was fairly close. Mealing, Bayetto, and I were assigned a bombing show on the lines up north near Diksmuide. Take-off brought a bit of a thrill when a gust lifted the nose of the Morane up and we came within a fraction of a second of stalling from only a hundred feet up. Fortunately, the gust let up just in time to get the nose back down and recover just above the field, then stagger over the trees and housetops of Auchel. I was soaking wet inside the new fur jacket and consequently froze for the next two hours.

There was little ground fire or Archie near the target and we all made very good bomb-dropping runs. Then just as we began to regroup, three Fokkers emerged from around the corner of some clouds a mile off and turned towards us. We abandoned all formality and headed southwest individually. Two of the Huns quickly turned back as soon as we crossed back over the lines, but the one HA following our machine stayed with Cpl Wilson and me as we skirted Ypres and showed no sign of abandoning the hunt. There was a balloon position near Messines, so I dropped close to the ground and made for it as quickly as I could. The Hun continued to close and I heard Wilson fire a short burst. I turned right and dropped to 200 feet. The Fokker fired and several rounds ripped through the Morane, but the machine seemed unaffected. We managed to come alongside the Fokker and Wilson let him have “anither go” (as he later put it). The Hun must have been hit, for all his keenness disappeared and he turned east out of range before we could react.

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"The Hun continued to close..."

I was happy to have had a scrap, no matter how brief or inconclusive. Swanson and his observer, Captain Craig, have claimed two more Huns. They seem to get into a good bout with the Hun whenever they go up, and are making a bit of a name for themselves and the squadron. I am hoping that Cpl Wilson and I can do our part soon in the same way. Last night in the mess I told the CO that I thought Swanson would make a wonderful scout pilot, but the Major only smiled and said that fellows who could avoid killing themselves in a Morane were in short supply and a transfer would not be possible in the near future.

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Raine, another fine report and high time too. Just kidding, I know you are busy with work these days. Swany is grateful for Jim's praise to the CO, but it doesn't look like he will be letting any of his Morane pilots go anywhere any time soon. Ah well, such is war.

Fullofit, glad to see Gaston is enjoying the fine weather as well. It's so much nicer to fly when the sun is shining.

Loftyc, great to see another American has joined the fight. I wish Bud a long and glorious career.

Scout, I hope the weather will break for Aleck and his crew soon so that they can enjoy some clear flying days.


2nd Lt. Swanson was hopeful this morning's outing would be a repeat of yesterday's, with sunny skies and no Hun in the air. Only the first point was to be the case. Swany and the Captain and two other crews of B Flight were sent down to St. Vaast to drop a few eggs on enemy positions dug in there. They arrived in good time and got the job done with some measure of success and had turned back towards camp. Then the Eindeckers arrived, yet again. At first Swany thought it was only a brace that had dropped between his craft and the other two in his flight, (he had been lagging behind slightly due to the Le Rhône running a bit rough in the higher altitude). The young pilot did his best to close the gap so that Captain Craig could get a shot into the Hun attackers before they reached the other two Moranes. That plan changed immediately when a third Eindecker dropped down on Swany's bus. He was getting used to this routine, and began his usual bobbing and weaving and wing-overs and such. Four times he shook off the Hun, and four times the fellow got back on his tail, firing over and over at the British machine. Amazingly his shots were not finding the mark, but neither were the Captain's. The fight went on for a good ten minutes when Swany lost sight of their assailant. Brief moments later the threat appeared directly on their tail and 2nd Lt. Swanson thought this might be it. The Captain began hammering away at the front of the Eindecker, which did not return fire, despite its point-blank range. The Hun's gun had jammed! A moment later and he was spinning down out of control, thanks to Craig's deft handiwork with the Lewis. Swany turned immediately for home and made best speed back to Auchel, with nothing more than a few vents in the elevator as proof of the battle they'd just endured. Another engagement that had favored the Brits, another AAR to fill out, another claim to submit. How long was this going to continue? No one else in camp was seeing this kind of action. Swany was now firmly convinced the German Air Service had it out for him personally. On a more humorous note, the Lieutenant had a good laugh when he saw the new white goat fur coat that Collins was sporting. It made him look like a polar bear and it was all Jim could do to fit into the cockpit of his bus when he was wearing it over the rest of his flying gear. Still, it must be nice and toasty warm, Swany thought to himself. If it proved to be something one could actually fly in and still be able to handled the controls he just might have to get one for himself, and be a polar bear as well.

Another beautiful day for a sortie.
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The Hun decide to drop in and spoil the fun.
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A terrifying sight, but the Eindecker's gun has jammed. The fates still prefer Swanson and Craig it seems.
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My God, Lou, not again!!! Are you spreading some sort of Hun bait around the sky? And your success at bagging the things beggars the imagination. My fellow, Wilson, is stout enough, but we're lucky to put more than three rounds into the target in a fight. Your Huns are falling out of the sky!

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Does Swanson have a deal with Fokker?

At this rate, the company will have to greatly increase the production of Einies to meet the increasing demand.


"Upon my word I've had as much excitement on a car as in the air, especially since the R.F.C. have had women drivers."

James McCudden, Five Years in the Royal Flying Corps
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Originally Posted by Hasse
Does Swanson have a deal with Fokker?


This is a witch hunt. NO COLLUSION.

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Aleck would be quite envious of Swanson's growing tally, if he knew of it. Regardless, he is not in any way hoping to run into Fokkers at the same rate as Swany ... his gunner Chris, although a nice chap, can't seem to hit the broad side of a quonset hut.

Great reports from one and all. Keep up the good work!

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LOL! No collusion and no deals! I'm not sure about the witch hunt. Swany would gladly have the Fokkers focus their attentions on someone else, if he had some say in the whole affair. Seriously though, I've checked the workshop settings several times, even have air activity on the lightest setting. Makes no difference. In all the years I've been playing OFF and WOFF I've never seen such a high frequency of attacks as I am getting in this campaign. On the up side, it does keep things exciting.

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Lou, you beast! You don't need a coat made of curlies to be a beast. You are one! You are the Scourge of Fokkers. I grovel at your feet. Meanwhile the rest of us barely fends them off, runs away quickly, or never sees them coming. Congrats on another kill and looking forward to that confirmation.
Raine, does the coat hinder the flight characteristics, by introducing much more drag, or weight when it's wet? Imagine that wet dog smell combined with castor oil and exhaust fumes. I hope it all balances out nicely.
Loftyc, good luck with the new pilot. Looking forward to his story developing. Make sure that freshly-mended broken leg acts out from time to time and kicks the rudder from time to time. burnout
Great stories Gentlemen.

27 February , 1916 8:06
Senard, Verdun Sector
Escadrille N37
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

Ils ne passeront pas! - They shall not pass!
(Anybody else wonders where Gandalf got that from?)
New orders: Petain is to command at Verdun. Everyone seems to like him, could it be because of his 39 year old mistress, Eugenie Hardon? I kid you not! You go, Old Dog!

The ‘B’ Flight was ordered to recon above the lines NW of Senard. This was a short hop to the frontlines. Gaston hated long transits.
Once they’ve arrived, they noticed two monoplanes attempting to go after Gaston and Mondeme. They’ve quickly realized they were outnumbered, turned their tails and ran when they saw three more Nieuports looming above them. That was the ‘A’ Flight. Gaston felt as if he himself was equipped with a machine gun, such was the impact of his guardian angels. Otherwise it was an uneventful sortie. Snow seems to be melting away. Perhaps the weather is turning for the better?

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Aleck A. MacKinlay
February 25, 1916

Bombing Rumbeke airfield! Ten bloody miles behind enemy lines! That's much farther than anything the Major has tasked us with so far. He really is taking this 'offensive spirit' thing to the upper tier.

Jones lead our flight of two BE2's and did an excellent job of getting us there, through a blur of snow and cloud. Despite my initial fears a sense of calm came over me as we reached our target. There were our two Bristol Scouts patrolling the skies over Rumbeke, and I realized we had caught the enemy entirely napping ... the Hun would never expect an attack this far behind the lines in such terrible weather. I lined up on the enemy field and made my drop, seeing two hangers taking the brunt of the explosions.

Back home with nary a problem.

Our squadron seems to be enjoying a halo of safety and success lately, with little opposition, no mechanical issues, and a full roster of pilots and crew. Perhaps there is so much misery and bad luck at Verdun these days that the world has none to spare for us.

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Fullofit, It is amazing how a bit of sun can brighten the day!

Scout, I share your pain with the deep offensive patrols. It is nothing to look forward to.

Mark Anthony Jericho
Auchell Aerodrome

Last night Swany and Jericho had talked for a bit as both their claims had been rejected. "What do they want us to do? Bring back part of the g@d&mn Hun machine!" Jericho asked and stated in disgust.
"Well, we aren't in this for personal glory you know" replied Swany.
"I know that, but it sure would help if we could get a little recognition once in a while" Jericho said.
There was a long silence for a while until Jericho spoke up again. "You know, we should have joined the Navy. Those RNAS boys have some fine aeroplanes. You would think we could get a few. Why do you supposed they have the best machines Pard?" Jericho rattled off.
"Well for one, I have no idea. Two, you think too much." replied Swany.
"You have to admit, It sure would be nice to fly one of those scouts instead of these old cows we go up in everyday" Jericho said.
Swany did not answer and they both drifted off to sleep.

At 10 Jericho and Dickens were on their way to bomb Douai. The only thing that gave them comfort were the 3 Nieuports from Escadrille 15. It was another beautiful day with only a few clouds. Jericho, in the lead, kept a sharp eye out for the Huns. "I know d@#n well your here" he thought to himself as he shivered against the cold. As they approached the target the 3 Nieuports dove away. "I knew you would show up!" Jericho thought. He scanned the skies ahead and they were clear so he concentrated on dropping his eggs. Once they were gone he turned west to get back over the lines. Dickens did the same. As they formed up heading west Jericho looked back and saw an Eindecker climbing to get on the tail of Dickens. Jericho knew his gunner could not return fire and in an instant he turned the Morane around to meet the Hun. Before flying past him the Hun let loose a burst in their direction and Jericho heard the clang of bullets against the machine. "God I hope the engine is ok!" he thought. Turning again the Fokker had continued his pursuit of Dickens. With Dickens jinking about Jericho slowly caught up with them and gave Christian an open field of fire which he immediately took advantage of and let loose with a whole drum. The Hun pulled a retreat as fast as he could with the two Moranes shooting back at him. Jericho was so focused on the Hun chasing Dickens he was jolted out of his thoughts when Christian opened up again. Jericho did not wait and turned immediately and saw another Hun on their tail. At the same time he saw one of the Nieports dive in and take the Fokker out of the fight. Christian gave him the "all clear" signal and Jericho relaxed. Checking the sun against his compass he headed back to Auchell.

As Jericho and Christian were walking to fill out their AAR Jericho notices a hole in the shoulder of Christians coat. He stopped and put his finger through the whole. "You must be wearing a rabbit's foot Pard!" Jericho said. Christian looked at it and shook his head. "Too close mate."

As they approached the office the door opened and the sight of all sights appeared. There stood James in a fur coat! "Whao there Pard! I didn't know they had buffalo in France" Jericho exclaimed. In the next moment he was doubled over in laughter. Lt. Christian could not help himself and joined in. Laughing more at Jericho than the coat.well
James did a twirl that would do a dancer proud. "Well see if that laughter keeps you warm on your next hop old boy! And no, you cannot borrow it!" he said as he walked past smiling.
Jericho watched him as he walked on. "You know, he may have a point!" he said.


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28 Feb 1916

Bombing today, and that means the Pfalz was to be used. Decided to fly deep south and cross over at Reimersdorf.
North of Suarce Flak started coming up and then the positions at Craix joined in too. It was then that Willi felt something
hit his right shoulder. At first he thought it was his passenger giving a warning, but it was not so. Anyway keep going.
Nice bomb run this time, and it's time for home.
It wasn't till they landed that Willi discovered that he had a tear in his flying coat.

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Lederhosen, glad you like the bombsight, I worked a long time on it getting it just right. And then Jara did his magic and got it fitted to all the planes in the WOFF hangar.

MFair, that was a close shave indeed for Jericho's G/O, he was very lucky. If Mark decides to go for one of those fur coats like Jim's maybe he and Swany can order at the same time and get a discount.

Scout, looks like Aleck and his flight had a successful bombing sortie at Rumbeke. Well done.

Fullofit, too bad Gaston and his wingman couldn't have caught up with those monoplanes, their N10s would have given them a sound thrashing.


Swany and the Captain enjoyed a nice, quiet outing this morning as B Flight did a recce of the lines east of Armentières. Low, fluffy clouds dotted the crisp winter sky as they passed over the town of Lozinghem, then followed the river Lys up to the front lines. Apart from a pair of disinterested Aviatiks that passed about 700' above them as they neared their objective there were no other planes seen in the air. 2nd Lt. Swanson was very glad for the break from the Eindecker attacks and is hopeful it may last a while. At mid-morning tea the CO announced that Swany and Daniel had been awarded their claim from yesterday. This makes four confirmed victories now for the young pilot, and he is more surprised than anyone by this news. Looks like more of his hard-earned money will be spent on drinks tonight in the mess.


A glorious morning for a quiet outing.
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Still playing catch-up, but wanted to give you all an update! I have been keeping an eye on everyone else's stories....my, it really is getting dicey out there, isn't it?

Sgt. Graham A. Campbell.
No. 20 Squadron R.F.C.
Clairmarais Aerodrome, France.


February 18th, 1916:

I have not written my diary for some days now. I have not had the heart.

After our binge on the 8th, we were all terribly excited to get into the air and claim another Fokker for No. 20. As ‘C’ flight had the early shows that week, I would spend my mornings with Jacky-Boy and Jimmy Reynard, having our breakfast in the Vincent. Jimmy and I would pal around at a table of our own, while Jacky-Boy would slip away to woo Jeanne, often times bringing her gifts of flowers,
chocolate, and whatever other gestures his military pay would allow for. For certain, our tails were all up, and even the mild-mannered young Switch-off would, before going out on patrol, throw his red scarf over his shoulder and boldly exclaim to us “Today is the day I will bag my first Hun!” with a grin on his face.

Three cold, wet days passed without a sign of the Hun, in which we came back from our patrols drenched through from flying in heavy rainfall. Despite this, we were still under the effect of Billinge and Reid’s success, and plenty of smiles and hearty songs filled the mess each night. Sometimes, after hours, Jacky-Boy, Switch-off, Reynard and I would take a few bottles to our Billett and play cards, or chess, or help each other write home. Spirits were high!

On the morning of the 12th, we awoke to more heavy rain. Cheerily making our way to the briefing-room, Jacky-Boy seemed unnaturally excited. When he head in the briefing that ‘A’ flight was to go across the lines, on a D.O.P (that is to say, Distant Offensive Patrol, or as we more accurately described it, “Looking for Trouble”). As we left, he whooped in delight and cried out “I knew it!”. Puzzled, Reynard and I looked over at him. “Knew what, Jacky?” I asked, and he beamed at me. “When I awoke today, I had this incredible feeling of, just, knowing I would finally run into the Hun! I can’t explain it, but I just knew!”. I looked at Reynard, who shrugged. “He’s gone aff his heid” he simply explained, and Jacky-Boy laughed loudly. “Drinks will be on me tonight, boys! I’m off to shoot myself down a Hun monoplane - you’ll see!”.

We went through our morning routine, and at the Vincent Jacky-Boy continued to excitedly babble to Jeanne about how he ‘just knew’ that he would finally get his chance to ‘shoot one of those blighters down!’. Admittedly, it put Reynard and I on edge - something seemed strained about his excitement, almost reluctant, but we couldn’t put our finger over it. We finished up our breakfast, and headed back, leaving Jacky-Boy to continue to ramble to a perplexed looking Jeanne.

‘B’ flight was on the Loos show that day, and in old A6338 we battled through fierce whipping rain and clouds. As we flew, I thought of how disappointed Jacky-Boy would be...the Huns never come up when the weather’s off! Needless to say, our patrol was uneventful, and we returned home without having seen a Hun. However, shortly after the rain came off, and the winds died down, just in time for ‘A’ flight’s show. Beaming from ear to ear, Jacky-Boy climbed into his bus, with Edith following. I approached him, and gave him a pat on the back. “You just take care up there, Jacky. No recklessness!”. He laughed and batted me away. “I’m not the one that’s been shot out of the two of us!” he retorted, and from the front Nacelle Edith protested with a quick “Oi!”. I laughed with the pair, before strolling away.

As per usual, the men assembled early in the evening in the mess. Pearson took up his usual position by the piano, and the singing begun. After about an hour of merrymaking, we heard ‘A’ flight’s Fees buzzing towards the aerodrome. A few minutes later and the crews came in to join us. We gave a quick cheer as they stepped in before going back to our mischief, and the two crews were offered seats and bottles. I noticed Edith and Jacky-Boy hadn’t come in, but didn’t think much of it - plenty of us had been getting lost in the harsh weather recently. After maybe another hour, I begun to wonder just where those two had gotten to. I asked Reid if he had seen them at all when he had come back, and he shook his head. “Afraid not, old boy. You see, it was all terribly cloudy up there, and before we knew it Jacky-Boy had vanished!”. I nodded, thanking him. After another hour, the absence of Edith and Jacky-Boy was starting to be noted by the men. The revelry died down slightly, and pilots said things such as “They’ve probably ditched down the lines, and are staying overnight somewhere!”. Generally, we accepted this, with only Switch-Off being visibly distressed by their absence. Eventually, I turned in for the night. As I reached my Billett, I found Switch-Off sitting on his bed, his eyes watery. Turning to me, he asked “Do you think they’re okay?”. I paused, thinking back to Jacky-Boy’s strange enthusiasm in the morning. I wasn’t sure. But, so as not to worry young Switch-off further, I replied. “He has Edith as his observer, and he’s got the luck of the devil! I’m sure he’s just fine. Get some sleep”.

The next morning we gathered again in the briefing room. The major seemed tired, and irritable, as we shuffled into our seats. After being given our briefings, we made to leave, but were halted by the Major booming out “One last thing, gentlemen”. Slowly sliding back into our seats, we uneasily looked at each other. “We have had a telephone call last night. 2nd. Lieutenant Fisher and Captain Edith got into a fight with a Fokker Monoplane during their patrol yesterday. Regrettably, 2nd. Lieutenant Fisher was instantly killed when he was struck in the head by a bullet. Captain Edith was able to climb into the cockpit and land the machine, and will be back with us by the end of the day. We shall hold the funeral this evening”.

The air stood still. Wide-eyed pilots and observers looked at each other, unspeaking, in the dimly lit room. I felt like my chest had cracked, and then frozen, as my breathing ceased. I looked over at Reynard, who had gone pale white. After a long, silent pause, the Major mumbled “That will be all”, gathered his papers, and made for the door. It was several minutes before we started to filter back out onto the aerodrome.

Jacky-Boy’s funeral seemed to pass in a daze. We stood in a semicircle around the Major, and a priest, who both gave short speeches. I didn’t hear a single word. In the mess, we quietly drank, stunned into silence. Eventually, we heard the first solemn notes of Pearson’s piano ring out, as he begun to sing “There’s a long, long trail”. Slowly, we joined in, the volume increasing, as we poured our emotion into our voices for our friend, our comrade. As he sung, I watched the tears stream down Switch-Off’s face. By the end of the night, both Switch-off and I had become terribly drunk, and Reynard had to enlist Pearson’s help to get us both back to our Billetts, and into bed. I hadn’t even realised in my grief that Edith had arrived around mid-day.

The rest of the week passed in what felt like a dream. During patrols I was numb, and inattentive. Normie was in a similar funk, but luckily Graves kept an eye on us. As per usual, we saw no Huns. On the 15th, I went to the Vincent, flowers in hand, to give Jeanne the news and console her. Through the window, I saw her at her table with an Artillery Captain, laughing at something he was saying, and then to my shock I watched as they passionately kissed. It didn’t feel real - as if Jacky-Boy had been made a non-person by that Hun bullet. Dropping the flowers in the mud, I returned to the aerodrome.

By the 18th, we had begun to come to terms with Jacky-Boy’s death - all except for Switch-off. The poor lad was distraught, seldom appearing in the mess and not talking at our billett. He had neatly organised Jacky-Boy’s things, in preparation for the Batman taking them away. Later that evening, we had a small uplifting surprise, as Kris Bristow returned. That night, during our typical mess binge, we broke the news to him. His face went dark. “Oh. I see. Poor Jacky. It can’t be helped, I suppose”.

No. 20 had suffered its first loss. Suddenly, the war felt very real.

Last edited by Wulfe; 02/28/19 06:27 PM.
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Great reads again Gents!
Wulfe, that is a very good story, even if a sad one. Yes, the war is beginning to get real.


Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end.
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Wow, good going guys

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Aleck A. MacKinlay
February 26, 1916

Mr. Davis left today, returning to London with his synchronizer contraption packed back in it's shipping crate. He never got the ting working reliably but he insists that the exercise was useful and the difficulties here will result in modifications to the factory version that will solve the temperature sensitivity problems. Our Bristol pilots were all disappointed to see him called back to the factory, as every one had hoped to be the first to make a success of the thing in combat. Buckminster even suggested that the gizmo be left here and they (with my help and the help of the chief mechanic apparently) would continue to play with it and report back with progress. But Davis' orders were quite clear, and I could see the logic of not having our newest secret weapon in the hands of a bunch pilots that might well land the thing in enemy hands.

Davis couldn't have picked a better day to head home ... glorious sunshine has finally returned after days of snow and wind. Chris and I had an artillery spotting mission in the mid-morning, and the sky was filled with aircraft (well, we saw about five which is quite unusual). At one point we were startled by a lone Aviatik lumbering right across our path. It quite startled us, but the enemy machine made no threatening maneuvers and in fact we could see the pilot throw a cheery wave in our direct as they passed, as if to say "wonderful day for a fly, eh chaps?" There was nothing much for us to do in response so Chris and I both waved back, and so did Norton and his observer, all four of us in unison as if of a single sun-addled mind. Quite funny actually.

Addendum, February 27: An uneventful recon mission over the Ypres salient. Another beautiful but cold day of flying.


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Last edited by 77_Scout; 03/01/19 02:23 AM.
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Scout, looks like Aleck is getting the hang of it. All this calmness is unbecoming. Where is all the drama, fear, despair?
MFair, remember there are always two. Always two. Also, make sure Jericho’s fur coat has a holster.
Lederhosen, very nice explosion, but you have to practice to get really good. Gaston used to bullseye womp rats in his T-16 back home, they’re not much bigger than 2 meters.

[Linked Image]

Lou, I would really like to see those N10 beat the sauerkraut out of those Fokkers, but that is such a rare sight. Congrats on yet another confirmed kill. I’ve already lost count.
Wolfe, that was another smashing tale. You could feel something is going to happen. And Jeanne needs her head shaved for what she did to poor Jacky-Boy’s memory.


28 February , 1916 8:03
Senard, Verdun Sector
Escadrille N37
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

Another recon over Meuse River. A lot of traffic was reported over the target. With a major bombardment in progress it's no surprise. Gaston’s flight of 3 aero plans encountered a trio and then a pair of Aviatiks going about their business. Gaston wanted to give chase, but he knew exactly how limited his options were. In fact what he had in hand wasn't even an option. He would simply kill himself or one of the flight-mates. They've completed the run and returned home. The assault on Verdun continues.

[Linked Image]

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"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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