Tross - Thanks! Really felt like a war of attrition and luck at that point going up against that bomber, and even then it was still at the cost of being downed too. The situation with the next sortie was indeed bad, but at least today proves to be better in terms of bling and activity. What a shame about Sigmund! He tried the best he could, but against that many aircraft there was nothing to be done. He should've ran for home, to hell with protecting wingmates. Well, I suppose too late for that. Welcome to the Yank, hopefully he holds out better!
RAF - Why, thank you for the bling. Losing judgement in combat wouldn't be good, but I suppose sometimes it just gets to an airman!
Fullofit - May as well double them up at this point, a wound stripe alone is bad but with something it improves in value it seems. Guess bloodthirst is just something that comes with two seaters. Ah, that's one possible reason! The Captaine should perhaps worry less about Baptiste's artistic expression though and more about the state of the Squadron as of right now with these missions. As for the SPAD, I reckon if Baptiste tried to recreate that he'd be dead even sooner given half his combat time tends to devolve into constant stalls. Perhaps they're just jealous of Klaus' success so they don't care much? I reckon both the two seater and the railyard were a result of Baptiste just feeling absolutely done, he didn't even care for his safety in the moment, just wanted to let out his frustration and well. A frustrated man in charge of a warplane isn't really ideal for anyone he might come against. Congratulations on those confirmations! That's all good then, no rejections for that. The first sortie was a let down though it seems. A near suicidal SPAD got in the way of a kill, and then himself died to someone else. Well, can't always have what we want I suppose! Then, some more breguets coming to cause more trouble, and not just that but with some escorts. Both of those go down, as does whichever idiot decided to have himself another collision it seems. The other SPAD must've been frustrating though, just getting away like that.
Today they managed to get 6 planes up in the air for a double patrol. First enemy and then friendly lines, nothing came of that, thankfully at this point. Upon landing the Captaine informed me that I was to receive a Medaille Militaire for my efforts. Now this was some recognition that I was hoping for. Still not a new crate for me to fly of course, but still something. I must admit however that my happiness was dampened by the sorry state of the squadron, even with ongoing repairs and the constant deaths. Suppose I'll celebrate by getting a drink, that's the least I could do.
Last edited by NotRelevant; 08/25/2111:28 PM.
"Those who survive a long time on the battlefield start to think they're invincible. I bet you do, too, Buddy."
Lou – I missed the page with the return of the Gong Fairy until a couple of days ago. Thank you for your consideration. Of course, my immediately subsequent wounding will perpetuate the legend of the fairy’s curse. Freddie has certainly not lost his touch in a dogfight. It has not taken him long to show the new boys how it’s done. Some marvellous photos from your first scraps!
NR – Congratulations to Leanders on entering the ranks of the aces so quickly, especially considering what a beast the Spad can be. Congratulations on winning the Madaille Militaire!
Carrick – And another man joins the pantheon of aces! Well done, Cecil! It seems the Camel suits your fighting style. I hope Cecil enjoyed his celebration. From the looks of things, I sure would have.
Albert – It was devastating to see Sigmund go so soon. He was off to a brilliant career. But at least he will be spared the depressing last days of the Kaiserreich. A warm welcome to Andrew Murphy. I’m looking forward to hearing the inside story on Babe Ruth.
Fullofit – Three Bréguets in one day is quite an accomplishment! And then Klaus follows it up with another one plus a Spad. At this rate it won’t be long before Klaus is up there with your other outstanding pilots who had more than 100 kills. Very impressive. And congratulations on the new gong.
Journal of 2nd Lieutenant Robert Fergus Drummond 32 Squadron, Royal Air Force No 9 British Red Cross Hospital Longuenesse, France
Part 7
"Less than thousand feet above the mud of the front lines, the Hun levelled out and I closed quickly on him, firing three or four short bursts."
Had a visit today from Bud Hale, Jerry Flynn, and Ralph MacBean, and what a wonderful time it was! Hale brought me my journal and pens so now I can write down what I recall of the past few days. To begin with, let me go back to a week ago, 17 August 1918.
We were off the ground at first light that morning, B Flight leading and A Flight covering, and bound for the front east of Amiens. The weather was stifling hot and humid even at sunrise, so that by the time we arrived in our patrol sector at 14,000 feet, the sweat we had bathed in on the ground was turning to ice on our backs. I was shivering uncontrollably and beating my hands on my knees in turn to retain some degree of feeling. It was on our third beat of the sector that Flynn, who was leading, waggled his wings and began to dive. After several seconds of searching, I spotted a pair of yellow Huns then a cluster of at least six more. To my delight they were Albatros scouts. These were so much easier to deal with than the usual Fokker D7s. I picked one and fired a quick burst but was closing far too quickly and had to zoom to find where he had got to. A Hun from somewhere beneath me put several rounds through my port wings. A kick on the rudder bar brought my SE around in a stall turn and I found an Albatros ahead and below just off to my starboard side. The German pilot dived away and I followed. The needle of the airspeed indicator soon was pinned at 200 knots per hour, and my entire machine vibrated while the wires whistled sharply. Less than thousand feet above the mud of the front lines, the Hun levelled out and I closed quickly on him, firing three or four short bursts. The yellow Albatros snapped into a right-hand spin and fell straight down to shatter itself among the shell craters.
Machine-gun fire crackled behind me and smoke streams from tracer missed my head by inches. I pulled the stick back into my stomach and brought the SE around in a vertical bank. I saw two Fokker D7s trying to turn onto my tail. Above me, SE5s swirled about with both Fokkers and Albatri. Another cluster of Huns had joined the fight, and our own A Flight had come to our rescue. After a minute or two of frantic twists and turns, John Donaldson appeared and began chasing one of my two pursuing Fokkers. That gave me a moment to pull up and the other Fokker overshot me. I gave my machine full throttle and dived onto the Fokker’s tail, firing away. The Hun fell out of control and I last saw him very low over his own lines and very close to the ground, still falling.
On returning to La Bellevue I claimed both machines. Neither had been witnessed by the other pilots so I had to wait for confirmation.
We were to go over the lines near Arras after lunch and strafe a German rail yard. I took advantage of some free time in the late morning to plan a sequel to my watermelon adventure of several days before. Besides watermelon, Bud Hale was trying to raise an ugly thing called a turban squash. These were not nearly big enough yet, though. Lawson, the South African, had a garden outside the Nissen hut next door. He was madly fond of his tomatoes. Eight of them were plump and red. I obtained a paper bag from the mess kitchen and filled it with tomatoes. I then wired the bag against the seat of my SE. I was all set.
We took off for the lines a half-hour later and were crossing into Hunland at 8000 feet when we were attacked by a group of Fokkers. We were able to outdistance them as we approach the railyard in a shallow dive. I loosed my bombs from 2000 feet and pulled up, heading south-west. I looked all about for the pursuing Huns. All I saw was my comrades making their attacks on the railyard. When I turned back to see where I was going, to my surprise a large captive balloon was looming up before me. I fire two long bursts and it exploded in flame.
Now the Fokkers were on us and for several minutes we had our hands full. I was farther west than the others, but a sense of obligation first me to turn back into the scrap. I fired at one Hun and then another and they fired at me. Finally the fight spread out and machines of both sides began to make their way home. I spotted a lone D7 passing below me and dived onto its tail. My first burst must have killed the pilot, for the machine began to tumble and headed straight down to crash north of Monchy.
It was only when I turned for home that I realised the inside of my cockpit was awash with crushed tomato. A German round had passed close by my legs and torn the paper bag apart. The twisting and turning and rolling about had accomplished the rest. When I landed, I needed to reassure the Ack Emmas that I was not wounded!
I claimed both the balloon and the Fokker. By dinner that evening, the RO was able to give me the news that the morning’s Fokker had been confirmed by our gunners, although the Albatros had not. The afternoon’s balloon was confirmed by Xavier of A Flight, but no one could verify the Fokker I had downed near Monchy. Still, these two confirmed victories brought my tally up to 10.
The next morning, 18 August, dawned bright and clear. We were to rendezvous with the formation of Harry Tates and escort them south to Beaumont-Hamel where they would photograph the enemy lines. We had scarcely arrived in the patrol sector when a very large formation of Fokkers dived on us. I found myself entertaining two of the Huns and, before I was able to do much about the situation, one of them had shattered a spar in my port upper wing. The machine became difficult to handle. I put the nose down and dived for the nearest cloud to the west. Tracer rounds flashed past as I kicked the rudder from side to side, unable to do more to evade my pursuers. My left calf received what felt like a blow from a white-hot hammer. It took a few seconds to realise that I’d been shot. Then the cloud wrapped around me.
I think I fainted from loss of blood and have only the vaguest recollection of throttling back as shattered tree stumps flashed past. From what I understand, I crashed heavily between our forward and reserve trenches and was carried to a regimental aid post by Australian soldiers. The next few days remain somewhat vague. I spent about a day at a casualty clearing station and then was packed off by ambulance to No 9 British Red Cross Hospital here at Longuenesse, just by Saint-Omer. There was some worry for a couple of days that the wound could turn gangrenous. Fortunately, that danger has passed and it is healing nicely. The bone was not broken but it will take some time for the muscle to heal. They are getting me back on my feet tomorrow and the real work will begin then.
The visit today was marvellous. The boys caught me up with the latest news from the squadron. We have had only one other casualty in the last week, a new fellow. I got to know MacBean and we discovered to each other’s delight that we are practically neighbours. His folks live in Sherbrooke, about an hour’s motoring from my home in Knowlton, Québec. We even knew some people in common back home. Small world, as they say. Jerry Flynn informed me on behalf of Major Russell that I had just been gazetted for the Distinguished Flying Cross. This is a new RAF decoration that I believe will be the air force equivalent of the MC. The fellows brought me my slacks and best tunic. The ribbon with its purple and white horizontal stripes was already sewn on! It looks like I shall have to write my father and tell him that his tuition money is going to good use.
NR - A quiet couple of sorties for Baptiste but at least the day was boosted by the confirmation of his award. The mechanic did well getting six SPADs into the air considering the damage of the day before. As for Sigmund, it did cross my mind just to run, knowing WOFF they'd have only given me the same sortie in the afternoon.
Raine - Fergie's had a busy time of it. Several good kills with most confirmed but each battle leaves it's mark. That's the difference between fighting in 1916 and late in 1918 I think. There are very few scoreless draws, people get hit, damaged, downed.
Thankfully it was just the bag of tomatoes that took the brunt but was that an omen? Not that I believe in such things but a big coincidence nonetheless. A very nasty injury and one that's going to take some recuperation. Good news about the DFC, that'll be something to show the nurses.
"A great deal of an aeroplane could be holed without affecting its ability to fly. Wings and fuselage could be—and often were—pierced in 50 places, missing the occupants by inches (blissfully unaware of how close it had come until they returned to base). Then the sailmaker would carefully cover each hole with a square inch of Irish linen frayed at the edges and with a brushful of dope make our aircraft 'serviceable' again within an hour."
2nd Lieutenant Andrew Murphy 22nd Aero Toul airfield
25th August 1918 - 12pm
Andrew climbed into his SPAD, he'd had his instructions from the Major. 'Climb up to 5000 feet', 'complete a couple of circuits of the airfield', 'look out for some of the landmarks, like the Forêt de Haye, Étang Romé and Toul itself', 'test the rigging and engine', 'get the hell back down'.
The engine purred as he took off and the aircraft climbed up quickly. He started his circuits and took in the surrounding area.
He spotted the deep green of the Forêt de Haye, with Toul just beyond and the dull blue of the Étang Romé near the front.
He'd completed a circuit and decided to put the SPAD through it's paces.
He cranked up the throttle and felt the aircraft accelerate quickly. He nosed down and completed a loop and then a split 's'. He barrel rolled and was thoroughly enjoying the experience.
He nosed down and raced towards the airfield. The SPAD just got quicker and quicker. He sped over the hangers and the CO's office and pulled up into a stall climb. As the aircraft stalled he let it spin a few times and then corrected it and came out about 300 feet up.
He decided he'd better land and came around to set her down.
"How was that Lieutenant?" asked the Major.
"That was fantastic sir, she's a beauty" said Andrew.
Major Hayes chuckled, "I don't think I'd ever call the SPAD a beauty, but she'll do".
"Pretty flying, go get yourself cleaned up. We've a patrol planned at 3 so you can come with us" finished the Major.
2.40pm
Andrew was in the briefing room with the others as the Major went through the afternoon sortie.
"We'll be heading north west towards St Mihiel and patrolling around the front there" started the Major.
"It's been busy there of late so expect trouble. Keep a sharp lookout and signal any sightings" he continued.
He turned to Andrew, "Speaking of trouble, Lieutenant Murphy will be joining us. You are to accompany us throughout the patrol Lieutenant. Keep in formation and watch for signals. If we should meet any opposition up there you are to turn around and come straight home. That's not an option Lieutenant" said Major Hayes.
The firmness in the Major's tone had told Andrew of the seriousness of that order.
"Understood sir" answered Andrew.
The weather was virtually perfect, little wind or clouds and bright warm sunshine as the squadron got in the air and climbed up quickly to 14000 feet before heading out north east.
Andrew kept his eyes on stalks throughout the sortie. Neither he nor the rest of the squadron spotted anything else and he was able to complete the whole patrol.
He landed safely after about 70 minutes flying.
Afterwards he spoke with Major Hayes.
"Well done today Lieutenant. You stayed in formation well. We didn't meet any opposition, that's a rarity these days. I trust you'd have followed my orders if we had" said the Major.
"Yes sir" said Andrew.
"Go get some dinner and get to know your fellow pilots some more. I'll be along shortly. From tomorrow Lieutenant, you'll be flying sorties like everyone else" said the Major.
"Thank you sir. I'm looking forward to it" said Andrew who saluted and left.
Later on in the mess he was talking to Ray Brooks.
"So I remember you with the Red Sox befor the war. What happened?" asked Brooks.
"I got picked up straight from college and signed a deal in 1912. I was only 18 so it was all strange to me but I made the cut and played several games that season." said Andrew.
"You were an outfielder if I remember right and you could hit the ball too" said Brooks.
"Yeah I was left field mostly. I made the roster for the World Series against the Giants but I was a reserve and didn't play." said Andrew.
"You seemed to disappear though?" questioned Brooks.
"Yeah I played the next season, did pretty well I thought. Then I got cut before the 1914 season" explained Andrew.
"What happened?" asked Brooks.
"Babe Ruth, that's what happened. He was a pitcher initially if you remember" said Andrew.
"Yeah I remember that, then he started playing outfield" said Brooks.
"Yeah, the Red Sox already had a great pitcher and Ruth wanted to play more so he switched to the outfield. Someone had to make way" said Andrew.
"and that someone was you?" said Brooks.
"Yeah, I got cut. I had offers to go play out in California but I didn't want to move all the way out there and I was still helping my dad with his business" said Andrew.
"You still played though right?" asked Brooks.
"Yeah, Rochester Hustlers offered me a deal and I played with them until I joined up. It wasn't the money I'd been on in Boston, but it was a living" explained Andrew.
The two carried on chatting, being joined by several others during the course of the evening.
"A great deal of an aeroplane could be holed without affecting its ability to fly. Wings and fuselage could be—and often were—pierced in 50 places, missing the occupants by inches (blissfully unaware of how close it had come until they returned to base). Then the sailmaker would carefully cover each hole with a square inch of Irish linen frayed at the edges and with a brushful of dope make our aircraft 'serviceable' again within an hour."
Albert - Nooooo! Another brilliant career cut tragically short. And so the curse continues. Sigmund is dead, long live Andrew. Wonderful introduction to your new man, love all the old pilot photos and the baseball tie-in, (but who's this Ruth character). Here's hoping Andrew makes it to war's end.
Raine - Looks like Fergie had his own near miss with the Gong Fairy. At least he managed to survive his brush, though from the sounds of it he will be a while recovering. And mystery solved, now we know how ketchup is made.
NR - Baptiste should head to town and show off his new bling, perhaps it will attract a comely mam'selle who can help take his mind off his troubles for an evening.
Carrick - Cecil and the boys from 54 certainly made a mess of that Hun railyard - excellent.
Fullofit - It's not like Klaus to miss seeing the enemy, or to let them get away either. Maybe it's time he had a few days leave to get himself refreshed and recharged. He'll be no good at all to the Kaiser if he's pushing up daisies. As for that previously mentioned airfield, perhaps the difference in elevation could be split down the middle so there are hills on one side and a valley on the other that would allow the unwanted children to gently roll away rather than plummet into the abyss.
.
26 August 1918 43 Squadron R.A.F. Fienvillers, France
HQ sent orders last night to take down the enemy observation balloon directly east of Amiens as soon as the sun was up. Major Frederick Abbott informed his men that he himself would lead the sortie and asked for two others to accompany him. Captain Cecil King was the first to pipe up, followed quickly by Captain Charles 'Sandy' Banks. "Well done lads, that's the spirit!", Freddy encouraged with his familiar toothy grin. "The three of us will flame that filthy hun gasbag!" And they did.
Daybreak, and Major Abbott, along with Captains King and Banks, prepare to depart on their ordered hunt.
Passing Amiens on the way to the target as the rising sun of late August etched crisp shadows across the dawn side of the Camels.
Freddy dives on the Hun sausage, simultaneously unleashing the Le Prieurs and the Vickers at close range. The rockets missed, (as they usually do), but the incendiary rounds found their mark.
A most satisfying explosion in the early morning light, and no air Huns about anywhere to harass the King's own. That job was left to Archie.
The enemy gunners below throw tons of hate at the retreating trio, but apart from the black smudges now dotting the brightening sky, along with a few harmless vents in the canvas of the Camels, their hatred accomplishes nothing.
Back home at Fienvillers shortly past six. Time for breakfast and some nice, hot tea!
Oh, hell. Sigmund gone so soon. It's the man you don't see who gets you. Very sorry Albert. Your man was on a roll. The recent gong was undoubtedly the first of many. Cigar ash and Tulle send another man to the Death God.
Welcome Lt. Andrew Murphy. A very cool choice, made all the more intriguing to me since I know Boston well. As chance would have it, Oliver attended a Red Sox game in July 1916 just before taking ship to England. I believe Babe Ruth pitched the nightcap. I don't know if Oliver remembers Murphy or not. I gotta get current and then we'll see.
Albert, no trackIR? Then how do you … you know … do it? Not that! I meant look around. Old school with keypad, or New school with mouselook?
So, another Yank. Welcome to the meat grinder. That SPAD looks mighty inviting. Is it the one or two-shooter model? Time to buzz some towers.
Now I see the two barrels in one of the pictures. So no action for Andrew that day, but at least he’s clocking time on the SPAD. That is always worth the experience. Hopefully there are no Dreideckers in the sector. Those are a murder for a SPAD driver. Leaks hope Murphy will taste some action the next day.
NR, true that. Those that don’t know it may mistake the wound stripe for another medal. Bonus! Le Capitaine’s got a lot on his mind, especially Baptiste’s well-being. He will get him the new model when he thinks he’s ready. Plus, that frustration seems to be well channeled into machine gun nests and two-seaters. Just keep going. As for Klaus he is frustrated more with his idiot wingmen than with any enemy pilots, one or two-seaters. Baptiste had a quiet day, but that’s for the better. No pilots or planes lost this time means more pilots and planes for the next day. A few more days like that and SPA23 will be back to full strength in no time.
Raine, it is true. Klaus is getting up there on the scoreboard, despite those psychotic Strutters. And the Gong Fairy strikes again. It was going pretty well for Robert on the 17th. Congrats on all confirmed kills, then the 18th rolls around and Drummond gets hit in his tomatoes. Good thing he’s in hospital because the smell of spoiled tomatoes isn’t the easiest to get rid of.
Lou, that would have been even worse. This way you would elongate the glide slope, reducing the usable landing space and make the planes however gently roll down the other end into the valley. Klaus is fine. It’s just difficult to spot puke brown planes against the mud. He needs more contrast. As for Major Abbott, surely he has the pull to end these ridiculous 3-ship balloon attacks. Sure, keep the strike force small, but for goodness’s sake bring along top cover! So, who got the gasbag? I assume they all fired at the balloon.
26 August, 1918 05:45 morning mission Montingen, Verdun Sector Jasta 18 Hauptmann Klaus Gustav Raben AO PLM HHO EK1 EK2 Fokker D.VII 91 confirmed kills
The Bréguet and the escorting SPAD have been confirmed. The morning mission required supporting ground forces near Marbache. A bunch of Bréguets jumped Schwarm Eins. Did they engage the two-seaters? No, they’ve ran away. Are you kiddin’ me!? What a bunch of Arschlöcher! Klaus engaged the closest two-seater, but after hitting it a few times he was hit himself by another one of the beasts. Raben quickly disengaged and went after the other threat. He took it down and watched it go down in flames. Then he followed another one that was already smoking, but he was interrupted by another two-seater crossing his path. He sent one burst. One burst only and the large machine disintegrated. It must have been critically damaged before it was introduced to Raben’s guns. He quickly switched back to the smoking Bréguet and fired a few volleys. The bird lost its wing and then to rub more salt into the wound it caught on fire and went down like a rock.
Schwarm Zwei continued with the mission, leaving Schwarm Eins behind looking for the nearest airfield to land on and hide. Near Marbache they’ve come across a flight of enemy planes flying much higher. Klaus hoped they wouldn’t notice them, but the SPADs were already moving into position to attack. Raben had little choice but to fight, but he would make it as difficult for the enemy as possible. He turned east. This way they’ll be fighting over German territory and the enemy would have to dive into the sun, potentially blinding them. One of them went into a dive. Klaus reacted and the would be attacker abandoned his run. He climbed back up and looked for another opening. In the meantime the main force was now upon the German formation and the battle commenced. Klaus saw one of them dive on his tail, but missed and his attack was spoiled. Raben took advantage of the situation and the two entered a duel of head on passes, followed quickly by Klaus managing to get on his enemy’s tail and chasing him across the sky. In the end, one of Raben’s bursts was what did the Franzose in. He tumbled down and crashed into the No-Man’s Land.
Klaus was all by himself now and began to search for the rest of the furball. A Flak explosion ahead told him all he needed to know. There were still enemy planes around and one of them was battling with a Fokker. Klaus was waiting below. He knew with this much maneuvering the enemy plane will soon come down to his level. That’s when he prepared to strike. As the SPAD was passing him by he let go one burst. One burst only. That is all he had time to do, but it was evidently enough. The enemy plane began to spiral down and eventually hit the ground. This was the last of the enemy planes still remaining. The Schwarm didn’t even bother to form up, they simply headed for the nearest aerodrome and began to land one after another.
26 August, 1918 12:20 noon mission Montingen, Verdun Sector Jasta 18 Hauptmann Klaus Gustav Raben AO PLM HHO EK1 EK2 Fokker D.VII 91 confirmed kills Awaiting five claim confirmations
The afternoon mission entailed patrolling enemy front lines east of Flirey. Schwarm Zwei followed Schwarm Eins to the Front, where Klaus spotted some dots to the west. He waited for Eins to react, but they continued to fly straight. It was only after Raben adjusted heading to intercept that the planes in front changed direction. He gave them room and observed what Schwarm Eins would do. The bloody clowns just overflew the Bréguets below and then turned back. He was shocked to see the idiots squander all the advantages and only engage when Schwarm Zwei had done so. Useless. They were utterly useless. Klaus selected one of the two-seaters that was still not being attacked, despite the two to one ratio. It didn’t take long to get on its tail and pump it full of lead. The gunner returned fire and hit Raben’s plane, but by now the large plane was nosing down with the engine catching fire and diving towards earth. Klaus checked the surroundings and noticed another bomber not getting enough attention. He dove on the unsuspecting machine and let loose a few bursts, but in return the rear gunner hit the engine and Klaus received a face full of motor oil. He quickly disengaged and pointed his plane north.
The plane’s engine was losing power, but was able to bring Klaus far enough into German territory. Klaus decided to land on the train tracks, ensuring his path would be free of trees and fences. What he didn’t count on was a telephone pole stuck right smack in the middle of the tracks. Was it sabotage? He barely avoided the obstruction by sheer luck, as he couldn’t see ahead of him. It would be another long afternoon.
"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 - Good to see Freddy has lost none of his balloon busting prowess, maybe not with le prieurs though. He seems to have settled down well in his new gaff. As for Andrew, he's got no beef with Babe Ruth, that's professional sports for you, just as much back then as now, very cutthroat. He wasn't too bad, old Babe, by all accounts.
Epower - It was an idea I had but was going to use it when we start up again after November, but as Sigmund met his maker I thought i'd use it now. If Oliver remembers the 1912 and 1913 seasons he may remember Andrew, or if he knows his AAA minor league after that.
Fullofit - It's a mix of mouse and POV switch. Still, enough of my joystick and onto Klaus's wreckage filled missions. That first outing against the Breguets was very good, even if kette Eins crapped themselves. Klaus was in top form by the time those SPADs paid the price. Then onto the afternoon where another Breguet bit the bullet and Klaus must have thought history was going to repeat itself, until he got a mush full of black stuff. Thankfully he was able to to get back relatively safely. Despite the local telephone engineer's best efforts to ruin his landing. That must have been an interesting conversation when that pole was installed "It says it should go here, so here it's going to go, if you don't like it you'll have to speak to my boss mate."
2nd Lieutenant Andrew Murphy 22nd Aero Toul airfield
26th August 1918
Morning sortie
Andrew woke handy and strode out into the cool air of the dawn. There was a touch of nerves but he expected that, he was used to it. How many times he'd had to hold a crucial 7th or 9th game catch or sneak a score from 3rd base. This was different though, this was no game.
He caught the early rays of sunlight as they came above the trees and took a deep breath.
Major Hayes took the briefing and explained that the squadron would be heading to Vaucouleurs airfield to patrol from there to the lines near St Mihiel.
The weather was still good although a little more cloudy than yesterday.
Both flights took off and climbed up quickly before heading out west towards Vaucouleurs.
Andrew was checking all over the place, the weather helping with visibility.
They reached Vaucouleurs without incident and turned north towards the lines. As they flew north Andrew looked over his shoulder and saw flak bursts back over Vaucouleurs airfield.
He signalled and turned around. As he neared he saw many aircraft engaged in a melee.
He saw some DVII's and some SPADs and looked for an opportunity. He saw two Fokkers diving down onto a SPAD and went to help.
He sped after the rearmost German and fired into him. The Hun rolled and dived away. Andrew ignored him and raced after the other DVII who was now opening fire on the SPAD ahead.
Andrew closed in and fired into the boche. The Hun turned left and this time Andrew went with him.
He hit him again and the red and white Fokker dived down and side slipped to throw Andrew off. Andrew however was patient, he waited for the German to level out. The German then ran for home.
Andrew now dived full pelt down onto the hapless Hun and poured bullets into him. The Fokker shuddered with bits flying off everywhere.
Another burst had the enemy trailing smoke with his engine seized and a final flurry clobbered the pilot. The Fokker nosed down and smashed into the trees north of Vaucouleurs.
Andrew couldn't see any other aircraft nearby so decided to head home.
On landing, more SPADs were circling as well. Two Fokkers had been downed by 22nd Aero, Major Hayes claiming the other one. Only one SPAD had been damaged.
Afternoon sortie (awaiting one confirmation)
In the afternoon, Major Hayes took the briefing once more and explained that 22nd Aero had been tasked with escorting half a dozen Breguets over to the lines east of St Mihiel to bomb enemy positions.
The weather was still good but the wind had picked up considerably as Andrew and the others took off and headed out to the rendezvous point.
As they flew north of Toul, Andrew saw shapes out to the east. They grew in size and were in fact the Breguets coming over from Malzeville.
Both formations headed towards St Mihiel with the SPADs high above the Breguets.
They could see the lines in front of them now. 'B' flight stayed above the Breguets whilst 'A' flight flew top cover behind them.
As the Breguets began their attacks Andrew looked behind and saw a large formation of aircraft above 'A' flight. He watched as it dived onto his comrades. He signalled and turned to go help.
As he got there he saw again that they were up against red and white coloured DVII's.
One flew across his sights so Andrew let loose, scoring some hits.
The Fokker dived and ran for home as the rest of 'B' flight joined the fray.
Andrew dived after him and caught up. He lined up and blasted the Hun with a long accurate burst.
The Fokker was desperately trying to get across the lines but Andrew closed in again and another accurate burst clearly hit the pilot. The enemy aircraft went down into a straight dive and smashed into the ground below.
As he made his way back up Andrew saw two more SPADs and formed up. They couldn't see any more Huns and the Breguet's were safely back across the lines ,so they made their way home.
On landing, Ray Brooks came over to Andrew as he climbed down. "Well done Andy! I saw you nail that Hun!" exclaimed Brooks.
Four Fokkers had been downed and although a SPAD was lost the pilot, Captain Leighton, was ok.
Later on Andrew spoke with Major Hayes. "How did that go Lieutenant?" asked Hayes.
"Pretty well sir, we spotted the enemy which is the main thing" said Andrew.
"You did fine Lieutenant, you spotted the enemy and your signals were clear. You shooting was pretty good too." said the Major with a smile.
"Well, I have good and bad news. You're claim from this morning has been rejected, the ground units near Vaucouleurs are claiming everything. Your claim this afternoon however has been confirmed. Captain Brooks has ratified the downed Hun." explained Hayes.
"Congratulations on your first kill Lieutenant Murphy, something tells me it won't be your last" finished the Major.
"Thank you sir" said Andrew who saluted and left.
As he crossed the field to the mess he noticed the wind had picked up considerably now....a storm was brewing.
"A great deal of an aeroplane could be holed without affecting its ability to fly. Wings and fuselage could be—and often were—pierced in 50 places, missing the occupants by inches (blissfully unaware of how close it had come until they returned to base). Then the sailmaker would carefully cover each hole with a square inch of Irish linen frayed at the edges and with a brushful of dope make our aircraft 'serviceable' again within an hour."
Raine - It's probably a surprise to Baptiste himself at this rate to he managed to make it like this. And it's gotten better. Meanwhile, some interesting times for Fergus. Win some, as can be seen with those claims and kills, along with that lucky or unlucky tomato, and then lose some with a hospital visit. Well, at least Fergus is still alive and has himself a DFC on top of that!
Tross - Suppose the mechanics had to work overtime, and after today they'll have to work even harder. There's definetely some improvement though! Evidently Murphy is getting on just fine, first with his two practice flights and then finally with the real deal! His two first kills, out of which only one got confirmed but still, good job fighting against those fokkers! Baptiste would have to disagree with Andrew in regards to it being a beauty though!
RAF - Would've been easier to do that had the Squadron not been constantly dying and getting thrown into desperate combat! So that balloon mission went well for Abbott, a job well done! Got in there, got it done and left with no interruptions. As it should be.
Fullofit - Exactly, and on top of that it seems there's some things to add on to the appeal even more now. All the waiting was worth it. Now that the Captaine relented, it's up to Baptiste to channel his frustration against his new mount and tae it out on others with two guns instead of one. Unfortunate the peace and quiet doesn't last, and the recovery just keeps becoming difficult. As for Klaus, I can imagine he would be frustrated, given Schwarm Eins now straight up abandons him! Who even taught them how to fight. Klaus is of course left to deal with the consequences in the form of two seaters and SPADs, earning himself some well deserved five kills which hopefully will get a confirmation. It does help that they go down from one burst! Second mission is just as frustrating, with the continued stupidity and then bullet induced engine trouble leading to a an emergency landing. That pole definetely must've been sabotage, no other explanation for that. Either that or a drunk engineer.
On the topic of a lack of TrackIR, I must admit I'm in the same boat as Tross here. It's quite managable if you have a POV switch and occasional mouse move. Better on some planes than others though.
Today came heavy rain and with it we weren't meant to fly. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately things don't often go the way we expect them to and we received word of bombers. In a hurry our planes got brought to the field and we scrambled through the mud and into the rain. We climbed for a bit, being beaten down by the rain and wind before finally we broke through the clouds and found our target. A fairly big formation of two seaters. We all begun climbing for them and people picked their targets, going for them with the aid of our Archie from below. I couldn't find a suitable target for a while as everyone was too high before finally noticing a bit of the furball spiralling down lower towards the ground and right over our aerodrome. I took that as an opportunity and flew on towards it, seeing a two seater spiralling downwards defensively. Seemed perfect.
I pushed my throttle to the max and dove in, firing into the Hannover as I passed without letting him get a shot off. Some hits but evidently this wasn't going to be enough... The Hun was still turning, so I begun my attack on him, spinning with him and going in for burst after burst into him, getting shots back in the process. Thankfully it was nothing essential, but I'm sure that the mechanics won't like it. Regardless, this didn't last long as the Boche finally broke off and tried to escape over the lines. I chased after him, settling behind him and simply shooting, getting hit after hit and making him slow down. Suddenly tracers came from the right, slamming into my cockpit and causing me to break off in panic. Turns out another two Boches decided to form up with him and evidently weren't happy that I was hanging around trying to kill one of their own. It was clear my wings were starting to get torn, but I didn't want to let go of a wounded foe so I made a desperate run, speeding up and going for another gun run, halfway through switching to the closest second Hannover and getting good bursts into him too before being forced to evade.
This repeated once more until finally I made some progress as the first Hannover finally broke off upwards and started spiralling to the ground. I thought I may have killed the pilot, but I was proven wrong once he recovered at tree top level and started running. This wasn't going to stand, so I once more dove in and begun a fight with the foe. He started going in circles which was bad news for me as there was no real space for me to dodge his attack. This prompted me to try and bait him into head ons which worked out well enough the first time, until he returned fire again and hit me hard. I wasn't deterred even though I was amazed I'm still in the air and went for a second head on, firing a burst towards him hoping for the best. Through sheer luck some of these bullets must've found their target as right after he begun a slow turn that ended with him slamming into a tree and igniting.
With the battle done, I went straight into the landing pattern and landed due to how close I was. Upon landing I discovered that I had around twenty or so bullets left, which only made me further appreciate my luck with downing that two seater. The second thing I found out was that the fight left me with a wrecked plane and the Squadron after losing half of A flight's airmen and almost all of A flight's crates had nothing for me to fly, so I was to remain on the ground for the day. This wasn't a problem as I took this as a chance to go up and see my kill personally, taking a walk over towards the wreck. Unfortunately for me this wasn't much good, as the plane has mostly burnt down by now. Still, this was at least a confirmation of what I've done, or so I thought. Turns out my claim was rejected in favour of the ground crews with their anti air cannons. Unbelievable, I didn't even see any shoot at this Boche, but I guess they're just in the right. That was beyond frustrating.
What wasn't frustrating though was being surprisingly called into the Captaine's office and being informed that due to my recent actions and the current rate of airman recycling in this squadron I was found worthy of being promoted to the rank of Adjutant. Now this I was very much happy about, and was all too happy to celebrate as on top of that I was told that this meant I was entitled to a new crate, that being a brand new SPAD of the new model. One of the whole THREE that our Squadron currently has in their position. That is to say, the only three aircraft of any sort we have at all.
"Those who survive a long time on the battlefield start to think they're invincible. I bet you do, too, Buddy."
NR - Baptiste had a right ding dong with that Hannover. It became personal and even though he took some serious heat he finally finished it off.......only to have the bloody thing rejected.... typical. That news was then replaced by the pleasant news of the promotion, which was then blown out of the water by the stupendous news of him getting a XIII. Now all he needs is enough other aircraft to get a flight going.....and the weather. As for Andrew, yeah a decent start but he's wanting more now and you're right about the SPAD being no oil painting.
Carrick - Thanks, and congratulations on Cecil's promotion. Great first picture of the bombed airfield.
"A great deal of an aeroplane could be holed without affecting its ability to fly. Wings and fuselage could be—and often were—pierced in 50 places, missing the occupants by inches (blissfully unaware of how close it had come until they returned to base). Then the sailmaker would carefully cover each hole with a square inch of Irish linen frayed at the edges and with a brushful of dope make our aircraft 'serviceable' again within an hour."
2nd Lieutenant Andrew Murphy 22nd Aero Toul airfield
1 confirmed kill
27th August 1918
The winds that were picking up when Andrew crossed the airfield yesterday evening had turned into a full-blown storm overnight. He'd been woken several times during the night with the sound of things hitting his window or walls and on one occasion, the sound of the roof nearly coming off.
He did manage to get some sleep but on waking and getting dressed, it was crystal clear there would be no flying until the weather eased.
After breakfast he pottered around in the hangers. In the afternoon however some new pilots arrived.
He was introduced to them later on in the mess. There was Lieutenant Jacques Swaab, he was 24 and from Philly.
Then there was Lieutenant James Beane who was 22 and from New York.
Lieutenant Remington Vernam was another. He was 24 and from Rutherford, New Jersey and finally another Lieutenant from NYC, Philip Hassinger.
That brought the squadron upto 14 pilots and the men had an enjoyable evening, despite the awful weather.
"A great deal of an aeroplane could be holed without affecting its ability to fly. Wings and fuselage could be—and often were—pierced in 50 places, missing the occupants by inches (blissfully unaware of how close it had come until they returned to base). Then the sailmaker would carefully cover each hole with a square inch of Irish linen frayed at the edges and with a brushful of dope make our aircraft 'serviceable' again within an hour."
Albert and NR, my hat with the trackIR clip attached to it is off. I don’t know how you do it. I would be lost without it. It’s like having a third hand.
Albert, it was a good day, wasn’t it? That second Bréguet only needed one bullet to go down. As to the afternoon mission, it was the opposite. It was Klaus that needed one bullet to go down. Thankfully one telephone pole didn’t suddenly end his career. Never seen that before.
So, Andrew’s been introduced to Jasta 18 - must have been Schwarm Eins to go down this easily. They were probably already looking for an aerodrome to land on even before engaging. Bunch of louts. Then once more in the afternoon and our boy, Murphy hit it out of the park. From now on those Fokkers will probably run away at first sight of SPADs. Well done on the first confirmed victory. Andrew is on his way.
Bad weather prevented him from making any flights today. Instead he made new friends. Hopefully none of them sing badly in the shower. Looks like the squadron is now at full strength. Now they just have to wait for the weather to improve to see what the new lads are made of.
NR, that’s a lovely shot of the Hannover getting a SPAD shoved up its arse. As for Klaus, that cowardly act took him by surprise. But I can’t blame them. Five Bréguets is too much for a Schwarm of Fokkers. The AI is programmed with self-preservation routines, except when it comes to ramming. Better one bullet in the engine block to spoil your mission, than one in your forehead to spoil your career. Klaus was lucky. And speaking of lucky, Baptiste’s determination was rewarded with a two-seater kill. Unfortunately the luck stops at this point and from now on Leanders is one miserable aviateur. His SPAD needs a general overhaul and the kill gets stolen by the despicable anti-aerienne. Merde! Le Capitaine at least makes things right and promotes our hero to the rank of Adjutant and by the same token gets the new SPAD model he’d been pining for so long. Not too bad after all. Now with double the firepower Baptiste will be able to bring his opponents down twice as fast!
27 August, 1918 Montingen, Verdun Sector Jasta 18 Hauptmann Klaus Gustav Raben AO PLM HHO EK1 EK2 Fokker D.VII 95 confirmed kills
All four of the Bréguets brought down yesterday have been confirmed, but none of the SPADs. Bad weather currently present in the area is preventing the Jasta from conducting operations.
"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."
Carrick - Congratulatiosn on the promotion! Seems like it was still a nice bombing and strafing for those Huns.
Tross - At this point, I think every fight with a two seater is personal for Baptiste. Those things are the bane of his existence. The rejection too is a typical yet bothersome thing, I mean right in front of the home field. What can one expect. Definetely isn't all bad though, since finally Baptiste can get what he wants in life. Would need to figure out a new paintjob too I reckon. Getting enough aircraft will be a problem though. Shees, sounds like the weather certainly was bad. Here's hoping the roof will stay on in the near future. Hopefully the newcomers last awhile.
Fullofit - That's a pretty apt description of what was happening. But at least it was dealing damage! To be honest, given how these reguets and two seaters in general fight, at this point it doesn't surprise me either. Why, clearly the ramming is a viable tactic. Either that or the AI is just tired of its painful existence. That much can't be argued with, better alive than dead. Seems like I'm in luck that my pilots so far hadn't experienced such misfortune and instead mainly died to heroic ramming. Well, that is how it is I guess. Good comes with the bad and all. Hard to say if it was all determination or frustration on Baptiste's part at that point, but it was what it was. He's quite happy with himself now that he's promoted and got a new crate though, still going to need to figure out what to paint it once he gets around to using it. Those two guns would surely help now and maybe things will actually die once he starts shooting them. Congratulations on the kills for Klaus though, even if it isn't all of them!
I can imagine with TIR it does get easier. It's just a matter of getting used to I suppose. Won't pretend for a moment that it doesn't put one at a disadvantage, but I guess that adds to the challenge!
Bad weather today keeps us grounded, but in the end even if it wasn't for the weather we'd barely have any planes to fly. Wound up feeling a bit useless sitting around with nothing better to do so wandered down to the hangers to help out the mechanics with repairs where I could. Just felt too bad sitting around being lazy while they toiled trying to get the squadron back in one piece. Plus it's certainly one way of making sure I don't forget the things I've learned back when I used to service these things. Regardless, otherwise a boring day.
Last edited by NotRelevant; 08/27/2110:42 PM.
"Those who survive a long time on the battlefield start to think they're invincible. I bet you do, too, Buddy."
Cecil P Fawnsworth Lt , Rfc, 54 Sqn Fienvillers, AF.
Aug 25 , 1918.
5 Victory Confirmed 2 Unconfirmed 1 Pending
Bagged a V strut ! B Flight (5 a/c ) had Offensive Patrol medium height and a Mix up with V Struts 7 e/a. Only 2 turned to fight so maybe New Guys ? My chap went to the deck ,but my long distance shooting seem to payoff. The e/a kept going down, I pulled up and he went into the trees. RTB. Score 2 Huns for 0 lost.
I will catch up with your tales over the weekend. I'm pleased to see that Cecil, Baptiste, Klaus, Robert and Freddy are still at it. Adieu Kevin and welcome once again to Andrew.
A long time away. We left off Oliver's tale in the aftermath of McCudden's funeral, drinking with his 56 Sqn pals and learning that the Royal Aircraft Factory fitted McCudden's Viper with an obsolete carburetor.
________________________________
À la Recherche du Temps Perdu - Part 96
11 July 1918 No. 24 Squadron Conteville, France
Up early to continue driving instructions with Lt. Lawson, my steadfast RO. After two weeks of furtive training, I’m getting a feel for the machine. I haven’t popped the clutch and stalled the engine in 3 days now. Rain washed out all patrols so there will be fewer witnesses. I’m sure it’s an open secret that the Old Man is finally learning how to drive his own Squadron Crossley but I prefer my gaffes to be out of public view.
Our new Armaments Officer, 2nd Lt. Percival Brindle arrived yesterday. All praise to the staff wallahs! The new pilot, F. E. Beauchamp is another fresh one who gives me pause. I’m not sure about him. He’s uncoordinated in his movements and tends to get tangled over his feet. Entering the squadron office, he caught his foot and nearly went arse over teakettle. Thankfully, Lawson caught him before he cracked his head on the desk. I couldn’t help but think of Freddy and our first meeting at the Savoy staircase. I only wish Beauchamp were the pilot Freddy is. Work to do there.
Letter off to Freddy. I’ve not heard from him since that splendid day at Birchley House. I wonder how the fossil hunter is getting on as instructor. He’d best make use of the good digging weather while he can. Freddy must be up for a command soon.
Mail arrived after just before dinner. A letter from Eliza!
She’s here! I must get to Étaples before she moves again.
12 July 1918 No. 24 Squadron Conteville, France
More rain. All flights cancelled. Made arrangements with Lt. South to purchase a rib roast from the mess. My route to Étaples goes past the Duponts and I would not drop by empty-handed.
Telegram to Eliza. I hope she can get free for an hour or two.
My new driving skills passed the test by the narrowest of margins. Didn’t stall the Crossley. The weather started clearing up near the Channel Coast. By the time I arrived at the Dupont farm, the roads were almost dry and there was no sign of rain at all.
A fine crop of wheat grew in the field nearest the house. In the adjacent field a young woman walked the team of oxen pulling the plow, an antique looking apparatus which M. Dupont held on course through main strength. His labor behind the plow looked exhausting.
M. Dupont approached, his face flushed and the underarms of his shirt stained with sweat.
“Bonjour, Chevalier!” he cried in greeting. He escorted me inside where we met Madame.
“Cher Olivier!” She kissed me on both cheeks.
Madame and Monsieur insisted I join them for déjeuner. I demurred but when I gave over the roast to Madame, she burst into tears, and both redoubled their efforts. I begged off by the slimmest margin, and only after revealing that I was off to Étaples to meet a lady. Their gratitude was palpable. The Dupont’s proximity to the coast gave them ready access to fish but meat was scarce. With more of their livestock appropriated by the government and all the men gone, running the farm with only housekeeper and cook required an increasing amount of toil from the old couple.
Madame, her eyes shining, said her farewell and repaired to the kitchen. Monsieur Henri walked me to the Crossley and on my signal gave the crank a hard turn. The engine purred to life.
“Ah, l’amour.” he said with a wry expression. “You must bring the Mademoiselle to visit. Étaples is a filthy place, unsuited to affairs of the heart. Should you desire a refuge, Chevalier, you are always welcome.
“You are most kind, Monsieur Dupont. Another time, then.”
“Oui, une autre occasion. Now, I must attend to Madame. Your presence excites her passions like the music of the viol. Au Revoir, Chevalier.”
____________________________
After a few missteps, I found the St. John's Ambulance Brigade Hospital. Inquiring after Eliza led to a interminable wait. I’d not seen her since our disastrous meeting last October and I was already nervous to start. The delay only increased my agitation. My unquiet mind spun dark scenarios.
Eliza appeared after half an hour. I felt the same old electric jolt and quickening pulse. When she saw me she broke into a beaming smile.
“Oliver! How Marvelous! The orderly only said some officer was asking after me. I didn’t know it was you.”
She took my hands as she always did. I leaned forward slightly, anticipating an embrace but she maintained her distance, holding my hands and smiling all the while. Her eyes shone brightly and her joy was obvious. We both stared at one another in awkward, nervous silence, then both spoke at the same time. Eliza’s laugh broke the spell.
“I’m so glad you came today,” she said, taking my arm. “We have time for a quick walk and not much more. I’m sorry we have so little time. I thought I’d be here longer but I go back to Rouen tomorrow and after that, who knows?”
Eliza led us to the garden in the center of the rectangular complex. Unlike the overgrowing rose gardens at Grovetown and Tincourt, the highly manicured central quadrangle was lawns, shrubbery, and neat gravel paths.
We found a bench and sat together. Eliza looked intently at my face, then gently touched my left eyebrow. “This healed well.”
“Any spots in your vision? Headaches?” she asked, tracing the line of the scar.
I thought back to that day. The blinding flash. Another brush with death.
“None. Shoulder’s fine too. Just lucky, or maybe your Saint Jude interceded for me with the God of Abraham.”
“Oliver, I do wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” she said in exasperation. “You wax blasphemous.”
“I don’t mean to offend. Far from it. I’m thankful for the protection of any god. Do you know the concept of blasphemy doesn’t exist in the Dharmic religions of India?”
“You’re impossible,” she replied, shaking her head. “I will pray for you. Now, what do you want for your birthday?”
“Same as last year: You. And my next birthday... And since you asked, a Time Machine like the one in Mr. Wells’ story.”
“Whatever for?” She seemed genuinely surprised.
“So I might relive the last year and a half. Save my friends who went West. I’d go back to last July, when we were so happy…and make certain I ducked when taking the shortcut through the woods. I never did get to experience your promised temptation...”
Eliza blushed.
“It’s a lovely fantasy, Oliver. I think about those days too. There’s something I want to tell you about last year. I wish we had more time but it’s a long story and now I have to go.”
“Gods Eliza! Why tell me this now when you must leave? After all this time. I will go mad! When can I see you again? Étaples isn’t that far from Conteville, and I can always find a reason to visit the Aircraft Depot in Verton.”
“Forgive me, Oliver. I don’t mean to string you along. Once I leave Rouen,” she said. “I’ll be moving about for the next week, then…yes, I might be at No. 5 British Red Cross Hospital in Abbeville on the 22nd. We could meet there. A belated birthday lunch! I won’t have much advance notice. I’ll wire you when I know for certain.”
We walked back to the main building. An orderly approached Eliza and gave a telegram into her hand. She laughed when she read it. It was from me.
How I longed to take her in my arms and kiss her then, but nurses and orderlies scuttled everywhere. It just wouldn’t do to compromise her like that. A kiss of her hand would have to suffice until we met again.
______________________________
Back to Conteville though not without incident. Mind whirring with thoughts and images of Eliza, I wasn’t paying proper attention and nearly struck a lorry.
Lowe has the DFC! I’ll loan him the Crossley tomorrow for a trip to Abbeville. Nobody can find the appropriate ribbon for this newest of decorations.
Up late writing to Eliza. My mind thrashes about wondering what it is she will tell me. It must be something weighty or she would put it in a letter. I can’t dwell on it or I will run mad. Sent the letter to No. 2 British Red Cross Hospital in Rouen. I hope she gets it before shipping out.
13 July 1918 No. 24 Squadron Conteville, France
Rain finally cleared in the afternoon. At 3.00 while briefing for a combined Offensive patrol, Wing called with an urgent request to destroy a balloon directing hate onto the PBI near Neuve-Chapelle. Leaving Selwyn and Hazell to lead the two mixed flights on OP, I took Southey and Barton and headed off to deal with the gasbag.
With D330 still at the depot, I flew Lambert’s machine, C1084.
The wretched gasbag required a second pass but it did burn.
Went high with Barton afterwards. Southey trailing. Spotted a wounded DFW making for Houplin aerodrome. Changed Lewis drums then closed, firing from 200 yards until I broke off at 40. The Hun fell off right and circled down towards his aerodrome. I thought he might flatten out and make a forced landing but his spiral continued uninterrupted into the ground.
Archie barked fiercely all the way home
News from Smokey at last! Thank the Gods, he’s alive.
The evening dispatch rider arrived just as Lowe’s DFC party got going. Balloon confirmed but not the DFW. One Hundred Forty-three.
Fullofit - Yes I've a feeling Andrew's going to see a lot of Jasta 18. Hopefully it's their tails as they run, that'll suit him fine, especially in a SPAD. Thankfully none of the newcomers seem to have a propensity to singing. Congratulations to Klaus on his Breguet confirmations.
NR - Baptiste can do some real damage with those two vickers now so hopefully it won't need to be so personal. He needs his Escadrille mates to stay alive so he can stay airborne.
Carrick - Congratulations to Cecil on another kill. Long range or short range, it matters not as long as he falls. It looks like Lady Camilla is about to pop out, nevermind pop in.
Epower - So Oliver has learned to drive, that's going to make it easier to see Eliza again but he might have to wait for another bout of bad weather. So she's heading to Number 5 in Abbeville? That brings back memories. Correspondence from Freddy and Smokey as well, there's nothing wrong with the postal service still.
As for the flying, he was back in form against the balloon and the DFW, shame about the confirmation but 143 is still some score. He'll have to whip young Beauchamp into shape clearly.
"A great deal of an aeroplane could be holed without affecting its ability to fly. Wings and fuselage could be—and often were—pierced in 50 places, missing the occupants by inches (blissfully unaware of how close it had come until they returned to base). Then the sailmaker would carefully cover each hole with a square inch of Irish linen frayed at the edges and with a brushful of dope make our aircraft 'serviceable' again within an hour."
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