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Raine Offline OP
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Originally Posted by Fullofit
Raine, you still have any of that Yukon Gold left? I’m surprised. That stuff seems to last.


Jim gets a case sent to him by the company every so often. He wants to keep the mess bar stocked. It's sort of a marketing thing. Sadly, his British colleagues take some back to their billets every few days to fuel their oil lamps. If it weren't for that, there would still be a bit left in the first bottle opened. Anything not consumed in the mess is shared with Wilson, who has accounted for quite a few bottles. I think the man is planning a move to Canada after the war.

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Originally Posted by Fullofit
Harry, another evil story. At last we get a glimpse at why Konrad is such a vile individual. Looks like those Caudrons are more than von B can swallow. Time to play nice and beg Strunze for help. Oh, and thanks for the waste of flowers winkngrin


Sorry about that, Fullofit, but he has to stay in character, you understand wink


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Fullofit - Feldgrau, you say? Uh-oh...planning on evening the score disparity that le Violet caused?

Lederhosen - that picture of the Halb falling is incredible! I like the D.II line-up as well.

Raine - Always a joy to hear another of Collins' expertly-woven stories. I always thoroughly enjoy the combination of the gallant Lieutenant and his vulgar Scotch Observer!

As for myself, I'm just clinging on to the present date at the moment, and trying not to slip behind again. Hopefully I get a little more free time soon, and I can start writing some more detailed entries.



Adj. James B. Fullard,
Esc. N.124 'Americaine'
Bar-le-Duc, France

July 18th, 1916:


Even with France’s greatest airman dead, the war continued. I felt a strange vulnerability as I slipped down into the cockpit of my new machine. I turned around as I pulled the stick back to check the elevators, and came face-to-face with the intrusive headrest. Frowning slightly, I contorted myself to see past the headrest. The elevator responded to my input.

The rain had come down heavily shortly after my new machine had arrived, and refused to let up for that day and the next. As a consequence, today was to be my first time flying the replacement aeroplane. Our assignment for the day seemed simple enough - we were to escort a Caudron from Escadrille 13 as it dropped bombs on German trenches just West of St. Mihiel.

Thenault’s engine roared to life, and our machines obediently responded. Listening to the Le Rhone, I recalled a phrase Luf had said to me once. The Bebe sings when you switch her on. The 16 growls. As the other machines started to roll, I pushed the throttle forwards, and the machine jolted sharply into life. Before I was fully prepared, we were flying down the field together. I pitched up, and the machine wobbled into the air. I then eased the stick down to fly level, and the nose promptly dropped back towards earth. Alarmed, I jolted the stick back a second time, before finally finding the machine’s level flight. Dubiously, I relaxed my grip again on the control column.

Besides the nose-heaviness, the controls felt smooth and responsive, no worse than the Bebe, and despite my misgivings I was in awe of my new machine’s speed. We quickly found the Caudron, and I gave one of its gunners a curt nod as we settled into formation beside it. McConnell & Hall, apparently in the mood for mischief, simultaneously flew very close over and under the Caudron, and I watched the same gunner duck into his cockpit in alarm, reappearing red-faced. I watched as his mouth silently moved, and amused myself by imagining what words he was screaming into the wind.

After twenty minutes’ flying I could feel my arm beginning to strain slightly from holding back the control column. Already, I had developed a mistrust of this new machine. With the Caudron in tow, we started to cross the lines. The front seemed to be active - at one point three Nieuports flew overhead, and for the duration of our transition across the lines a lone Aviatik hung above our heads to the West. I watched it irritatedly, wishing I was free to attack it.

The Caudron was soon over its target, and I watched disinterestedly as the bombs fell wide of their mark, and apart from the Aviatik, no other Bosches arrived. We escorted the Caudron back to its aerodrome and flew home ourselves.

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Hasse, thanks! The realism oozes out of WOFF. It’s too bad this realism had to collide with Gaston. Like Rick said, it was inevitable even though everyone could see it. Good luck with finding that free time to fly.

Raine, I see. I didn’t realize James was getting resupplied. With such a marketing scheme I’m surprised half the RFC isn’t drunk. Or are they?

Harry, no I didn’t expect Konrad to play nice. Especially when it comes to Strunze. When is von B going to shoot him in the back?

Wulfe, you’ve got it. This is the only way to shoot Dagonet and get a medal for it winkngrin
I see Fullard is now nearly acquainted with the Pig. Now all that’s left is actual combat. That first “Oh crap! Why am I stalling like that in a turn?” moment. Can’t wait! And that Caudron dropping those bombs off target. All that work for nothing. C’est la guerre?


"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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Recently switched to a new PC so may take a little while to get setup again. On that note - any ideas how to transfer Mr. Fullard's career over once I've got WoFF installed again?

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Raine Offline OP
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Have you tried Rob Wiggins' backup utility from the mods site? I think it does the trick.

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Listen to the MC. He knows what he’s talking about. Make the backup with RW’s utility. Copy the folder to a thumb drive, or email. Install utility on the new system, copy the backed-up folder and run the utility to restore. Done. (Wipes hands and walks away).


"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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Keith Cunard Mallory
2nd LT, Rfc
29 Sqn, Ablee AF.
DH-2's
3 Kills

Sqn Maintenance Officer and
Acting Section Leader
68 Missions
57.32 Hrs.

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Keith Cunard Mallory
2nd LT, Rfc
29 Sqn, Ablee AF.
DH-2's
3 Kills

Led yellow section's 3 a/c on Offensive Patrol with A Fights 2 a/c for Cover. No Contact

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Carrick, no Hun is a good Hun.

Otto Bernhard (Obi for short) von Kenobi was born on 13 September 1884 in Vadersdorf, a small village in the Fehmarn, while his father Kurt and pregnant mother Hilda were touring their lands. The sudden onset of labour forced the birth in the carriage. He was an only child after poor Hilda vowed never have to go through another childbirth. Otto was drawn to the military from a young age, joining military school in Berlin. He has attained the rank of Leutnant in cavalry by the start of hostilities. With his sabre in hand he would participate in advanced raids in Belgium. That is until getting wounded by a stray shell from the German guns. His right hand would be less than ideal for holding his sabre. Rather than give up, he would order a custom-made shorter and lighter model. This light sabre would never leave his side. With the war progress grinding to a halt on the Western Front, Otto turned to the skies and entered flight school in Hamburg. After graduation he was posted to Unit 6 Tayyare Bölük, Dardanelles, where he flew Fokker Eindeckers over Gallipoli. It would be in Turkey that he would meet his best friend and pilot Hans Oläf. Together with a Turkish pilot Chuba Khan, who would be very hard to understand, the trio would get into all sorts of trouble. Otto, as the oldest of the group would always bring order to the rest of the rowdy bunch with his stern look. The other two pilots would come to call it the Death Stare.
One fateful May evening in 1916 the trio would be spending their free time at their usual watering hole, a local tavern, where they would meet an American by the name of Bob Buffet and his lovely companion, the Princess. No one really believed the pretty girl was royalty, but they went along anyway, indulging her as she downed shot after shot of Smirnoff. The next morning they would find out from Buffet that the mysterious Princess has been arrested and is now being interrogated inside the Turkish prison. The smitten officer went to see the prisoner and decided to assist the fair Princess after her heartrending plea for help: “- Help me Obi von Kenobi, you’re my only hope!” That evening Obi, Hans and Chuba with the help of the American Bob Buffet, freed the Princess from the Turkish police, but were soon discovered and charged with aiding the enemy. They were all shocked to learn they’ve helped release a Russian spy and in fact a member of the Romanov family. A certain Princess Layla. This stunt put the trio on death row, but because they were Imperial officers, except for Chuba Khan, they would be transferred into German custody to be properly disciplined. No one knows what became of Khan. Oläf was summarily discharged and sent to Mesopotamia to train peregrine falcons for the local Sheik. Otto was demoted to the rank of Feldwebel and sent back to Western Front to serve as a pilot in a local Kasta. To be continued ...

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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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Otto Bernhard von Kenobi stepped out of the Opel and onto the dry mud grounds of the Proville aerodrome, the current home to Kampfstaffel 17. His transfer orders were neatly folded in his left breast pocket of the slightly creased from travel uniform. He was also in a dire need of a shave. The journey was long. He picked up his bags off the ground and headed for the main building. The door was ajar letting warm air inside, or perhaps letting the stale air out. It was hard to tell. He entered the two-storey structure built out of wood. The building was purpose built for the administration of the airfield with the C.O.’s quarters on the upper floor. The lower level housed a few desks with phones and a brand new Olympia typewriter, filing cabinets and stacks of papers and other stationary. A short man with round rim glasses and a bald head was sitting at the typewriter with his index fingers stiffly sticking out and slowly punching the keys one letter at a time. The little man was consumed by his work and didn’t notice Otto come in. He was attempting to carry a tune but most of it sounded more like beeps and boops.
“- Hello there. Feldwebel von Kenobi reporting for duty. I’d like to talk to the C.O.” Otto interrupted the man in his work. A stack of papers went flying as the small man was startled by this sudden announcement.
“- Donnerwetter! Don’t do that! You’ve almost given me a heart attack! The C.O. isn’t in. I’m Wachtmeister Artur Dietrich. How can I help you ... Feldwebel, you said?” The man suddenly managed to look important.
“- I’ve just arrived and would like to introduce myself to the Kasta Fürher, that is all.” von Kenobi responded.
“Ach, I see. That is currently impossible. As I’ve said already he is away. Why don’t I call the orderly and let you settle in?” Dietrich picked up the phone and yelled into the mouthpiece: “- Goldrute, get in here!” He slammed the receiver back on the hook. “- The orderly will be here shortly.”
Otto took a look around. Two windows provided the light for the room. There was a chalkboard in the corner with today’s missions. He started to read the names on the roster: “Thiede, Mann, Hertel, Elberling, Knapp.” Five names, five pilots. He would be the sixth. A tall slim-built man walked into the room. He was blond, had large round eyes, a small flat nose and walked with his arms hanging loose along his sides, as if limp.
“- Took you long enough!” Barked Dietrich. “- Take the .. Feldwebel to his quarters, you know which ones, and let him settle in.” He now turned to Otto: “- Make sure you get familiar with the map of the surrounding area quick. You’ll start flying tomorrow. And ... welcome to Proville!” With that the short and stout man sat himself in front of the typewriter and resumed his typing, and humming, and beeping. Otto picked his bags up and followed the orderly out.


"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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good stories everyone

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Keith Cunard Mallory
2nd LT, Rfc
29 Sqn, Ablee AF.
DH-2's
3 Kills


20 Jul 1916

I got shot down today. Our section of 3 a/c met and tangled with numerous Monoplanes. Intell said it was Max von Mullers people who was reported to be in the area. All I know was that their was a lot of e/a firing and diving mostly at me. I took hit after hit the then motor stopped. I ended up in a cow pasture with cuts and bruises and 3 miles to walk to a farm.

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Raine Offline OP
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A long, long time ago in a Kasta far, far away. Welcome, Otto. I hear your unit may get a visit from a Prussian prince, so may the Fuerst be with you.

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Raine, oh dear! First the Princess, now this Prussian prince. Why does trouble follow Obi?

Obi spent the rest of the day exploring the aerodrome and meeting Fliegers of Kasta 17. The slim orderly introduced him to his observer and the airplane’s commander. He was younger than Otto, but so was everyone else on the base. Or at least it looked like it. Appearance wise, on the other hand, he looked ten years older than von Kenobi. It was combat stress. The man his age should never have grey hair, nor dark circles under his eyes like Karl-Albert Gunther. He was an amiable man, not too serious despite his position. It appears the two will make an effective team. They’ve discussed the operations and procedures expected during their time in the air. “- Definitely stay away from those infernal Nieuports and de Havillands ... In fact, let’s get out at the first sign of trouble.” Gunther’s advice sounded convincing to Otto. He definitely wanted to avoid trouble. After a few Schnapps together in the Kasino, Otto retired to his quarters. It was a long day and tomorrow morning he will fly his first mission. He dreamt of the Princess.


"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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20 July, 1916 08:25 morning mission
Proville, Flanders Sector
Kasta 17
Feldwebel Otto B von Kenobi

It was Otto’s first outing with Kampfstaffel 17. A bit of morning arty spotting for the big guns near Arras. The Kette Fürher, Leutnant Fritz Thiede, had only one request from the new arrival - no heroics and no stupid moves. They were now lined up, second to take off, right after Thiede. Kette Eins would follow. His observer, Karl-Albert Gunther was facing forward for the take off with both of his hands firmly grasping the edge of the fuselage. Von Kenobi watched his leader open the throttle wide with smoke belching from the exhaust pipe right in his face. The first plane began to roll. Otto was next and mirrored his leader’s actions. The engine revolutions reached a crescendo. His Roland jerked and started to move forward faster and faster. He could feel the wings strain and begin to lift the weight of the aeroplane. He was airborne, his body pushed against the wicker seat and listing to the left. Listing badly. The trees along the side of the airfield were now in front of him and getting nearer. The nose was dropping and Otto was certain it would be his first and last take off in this infernal machine. He quickly realized the vertical stabilizer was stuck to one side. He kicked the rudder bar hard and then again and again, and finally it went back to neutral. The Walfisch cleared the trees wobbling from side to side. Gunther’s eyes were wide open, along with his mouth. When Otto looked at him sheepishly, the observer with an exaggerated motion started to tap his forehead with his gloved hand. “- Are you crazy?” Otto understood him perfectly without his observer uttering a word. Gunther then turned around to face the tail, letting Otto know he wasn’t impressed. He must have thought Obi had done this on purpose. Thiede was flying far ahead and von Kenobi had to strain the engine to catch up and form on the leader’s left wing. They finally were flying together with the leader giving a signal with his windmilling arm to get a move on. Suddenly Otto felt a tap on his shoulder. It was Gunther, he was pointing to the train tracks below. He raised his arm and made a move as if he were pulling repeatedly on a cord, mouthing the words “choo-choo”. Otto looked down and followed the tracks to a rail station. He understood. They flew on and turned west. They were now flying towards the Front. On their right a large city sprawled in the near distance. Otto felt another tap on the shoulder. His observer was now pointing at the city then made large circles on his chest, immediately followed by cupping with his hands and caressing large invisible spheres attached to the front of his torso. Otto understood again that this must be where Karl-Albert Gunther indulges in a certain form of entertainment. If he’s not mistaken that is Douai on his starboard. Easy to remember. Otto grinned after recalling Gunther’s pantomime. What else is he about to show him? They continued with the mission. They were now over the Front and Otto Bernhard von Kenobi was taken aghast. He has never seen such a thing. The country was divided in two with this enormous swath of land being constantly churned over with each new explosion. It was dead. It was Death itself, stretching from north to south as far as the eye could see. Otto was in shock. He could not understand man could do such damage. It was one thing to see photographs in the newspaper and another to see it for yourself. He was ashamed to be a soldier, ashamed to be a member of the human race. To inflict such desolation was inhuman. Gunther wasn’t pointing at anything either. He busied himself taking notes, while fresh pilot took it all in. The city of Arras lay on the other side of the Front. Otto wondered how people could live this close to the mayhem, constant danger and misery. Is it simply a matter of getting used to it? It was time to return. There was one final tap on Otto’s shoulder. His observer pointed to the lake below and made swimming gestures, but von Kenobi wasn’t in the mood for jokes at the moment. Gunther understood and left Otto alone for the rest of the flight. This is not how Obi imagined his first visit to the Front. War was hell.



"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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Ooh err, slightly scary takeoff there, Fullofit! I'm sure Otto will soon get the hang of things though. After all, the force is surely with him smile


System: i5 8600K @ 3.6GHz,16GB DDR4 @2666MHz. RTX2080, MSI Z370 mobo, Dell 27" G-SYNC @ 144Hz. 2560x1440

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Harry, he surely had to use some of that force to fight the rudder. winkngrin


"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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I had to double and triple check I was reading that name right, ha! Also, that 'light Sabre'? Dammit, Fullofit LOL. Let me guess...Bernhard is shortened to 'Ben'? wink Great description of the front, and, shaky take-off aside, a promising start to the new Fllieger

No luck with Fullard's transition to the new PC yet. Will keep trying, but might end up a little behind the pack date-wise

...of course, I then have to try and find the old Email again to get WoFF working again. That being said, paying twice for such a great game isn't the worst thing in the world, if I can't find the Email.








Last edited by Wulfe; 07/21/19 02:27 PM.
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Wulfe, fingers crossed for a successful transplant.

Hans Oläf: “- Bob Buffet? Bob Buffet? Where?!”


"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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