Fullofit -- that encounter with a certain "F" labelled Bristol was a nailbiter. I'm sure the Englishman thought it was topping. And with three more claims, Zygmunt is already a five victory Kanone. Congratulations on the EK2.

MFair – so glad that it was just a graze for Harris. Promise to keep that cowboy in one piece!

Carrick – Longstreet, we hardly knew ye. Welcome to Fido Iggy. Or is it "Figgy"?

AceMedic – great start to Reggie's story. New Guy Syndrome has affected us all at one point! I'll keep my fingers crossed for his claims.

Lou – Freddie did a splendid job bagging that DFW. He showed great patience and maturity, or rather he likely did exactly as he was told. Either way, good job.

epower – You had me worried approaching that two seater. I keep watching Fullofit's videos for pointers, but every time I try to stay behind and below one of those things I and up writing stories about Berlin!


Hans-Dieter Vogel is finally back in action after more than a month. His first few days back have been truly an adventure…



Tagebuch of Fw Hans-Dieter Vogel, EK2

Jasta 26, Iseghem (Izegem), Belgium

Part 9

28 June 1917

Staffelfuehrer Loertzer kept me busy on my return. He was interested in my experience working at the Hotel Adlon during my leave and suggested that I could be of service to the Jasta while my wings were clipped by “tuning up” the meal service in the Kasino . To that end, I brought in a local woman who was an excellent cook to teach some French magic to the kitchen staff and I taught the mess stewards how to set a proper table. But most importantly, I navigated my way into the local black market and found a farmer who was willing to have the occasional pig “stolen” for the right price. And just when we were ready for a decent dinner, orders came through for us to move north.

The British had begun their summer offensive around the ancient cloth-trading town of Ypres so we were moved to a field outside of the town of Iseghem, which the Flemish call Izegem. I have not before experienced a change of aerodrome and am amazed at the amount of work that goes into it. The Jasta’s column of lorries full of equipment and stores had to be seen to be believed! I travelled with the mechanics and the pilots stayed until the very end to fly to our new home. The town of Iseghem is of a fair size and straddles a broad canal. It is not quite as ugly as the low brick coal mining communities of eastern France. We share a field south of the town with Jasta 27, commanded by Leutnant Goering, whom I met when I arrived at Jasta 26 and who is a great friend of Leutnant Loertzer the Elder. Our office and Kasino have been established in a large country home and several nearby houses have been requisitioned as billets for the officers. The non-commissioned pilots are supposed to get billets as well but the boss is in a dispute with the mayor of the town over the number of houses we need. I have no doubt it will be resolved quickly. For now, Steinmesser and I are back in our tent.

Today I am cleared to fly at last. It is a gloriously bright morning. For the first time I roll out my new Albatros. The engine is somewhat more powerful than the older type yet the difference in speed is minimal and it is no more manoeuvrable so that is a disappointment. Also, I am warned that the troubles we experienced with the DIII’s wings twisting under stress have not been entirely fixed. I am happiest about the visibility. The upper wing is lower and the radiator is offset to the right so the pipe does not sit in my field of view. I am anxious to see what it can do with the new mount. After a brief familiarisation flight in the morning we take off close to one o’clock to meet with some of our observation machines for a trip to the front. It does my head good to leap into the summer air and climb away to the south-east. The boss has stationed me on his left wingtip, a position of trust. After more than a month of being useless I feel I have regained a place in the world. And then water begins to speckle my windscreen. Something has let go and the cooling system is shutting down. With a great sigh I leave the formation, turned back to Iseghem, and switch off.


"It is a gloriously bright morning. For the first time I roll out my new Albatros."

29 June 1917

A light drizzle rustles the outside of our tent and the occasional smack of a large drop falling from the trees outside stirs me awake. I fear we will not get to fly today. Yet I shave and dress and make my way to the hangers. To my delight the boss is already there with Leutnants Auer, Blume, Loertzer the Preacher, and two new additions, Leutnants Holzinger and Dannhuber. The clouds have lifted slightly. We will fly to Coutrai and rendezvous with our observation machines over the city and then head for the British lines south of Ypres.

How Leutnant Loertzer does it I do not know. Despite the darkness and haze he spots the pair of Rumpler two-seaters more than a kilometre away and heads for them. I realise that I have lost some of my ability to spot things in the air. That discovery is brought home more sharply ten minutes later as we approach the lines. Suddenly a large formation of English machines is amongst us. I bring my Albatros around to the left. It groans in protest and I remember the warning about our wing problems. I close on one of the chocolate -coloured enemy aircraft but it snaps around to the right with impossible quickness. These are not the Sopwiths that I knew two months ago. These are the new type with two machine guns that I have heard about. For the next few minutes – an eternity it seems – I am a novice again. I turn with the Sopwith but it turns a tighter circle. I climb and it climbs with me. But then I roll and dive and pull up, catching the Englishman in a turn. It is a difficult shot as the enemy machine flashes past, left to right. I aim ahead and keep my thumb on the trigger lever. I see my rounds hitting the target. He is in trouble. In a flash, I am behind him and firing again and again. We are low over the town of Menen when the Sopwith rolls to the right and begins to spin. At the last second, the Englishman attempts to pull out of the spin but his right wings clip the walls of a ruined house and the machine cartwheels through the rubble-strewn street.


"In a flash, I am behind him and firing again and again."

To the east, our Flak bursts tell me where the fight is and I head back to help my comrades. A lone Sopwith approaches off to my left and lower down. I turn on to its tail and begin to fire. It is too far away but I hope to damage it so that I may catch it more quickly. The Englishman approaches his own lines and I am taking ground fire. It is time to leave and go home.

Back at Iseghem there is excitement. Leutnant Auer has claimed a “Camel”, as the new Sopwith are termed. I am slapped on the back when I announce that I have one too. It remains to be confirmed but at least my comrades do not question it. We walked to the Kasino, where the kitchen has finally learned to make a proper omelette.

Shortly before one o’clock the phone rings and we are roused from our newspapers and coffee and chess boards. English aircraft have been seen heading in our direction. A lorry races us to the field where our machines have already been run up by the ground crew. Only five machines are ready. The boss orders streamers to be placed on my Albatros. This is the first time I will command a patrol! We take off – me, Holzinger, Fritz Loertzer, Auer, and Dannhuber. It is grey and damp and we climb through mist and low cloud. Auer signals “enemy in view.” I see them a few seconds later – four two-seaters heading west. For several minutes we climb after them and I decide to pursue them at least as far as Armentières. But then Loerzer fires a flare. Nieuports! I turn to meet the enemy and the formation scatters. For several minutes there is chaos. I have my hands full with two silver-white English scouts, and then they are gone. I see Dannhuber a short distance away with two Nieuports turning behind him. I dash to help and my opening burst scatters the enemy machines. I choose one of the Englishman and get on his tail, firing again and again. The Nieuport rolls on its back and disappears beneath me. Do I have him? I do not see him again. For a minute I find myself alone. I can hear my heart beating louder than the Mercedes engine in front of me. I remember to check the sky methodically. Nothing behind and above. Nothing behind and right. Nothing behind and left. Nothing above and ahead. Nothing below and left. No, wait a minute. A Nieuport is heading in my direction off to the left and about a thousand metres below. I throttle back and turn. He has not seen me. I watch my lower wings carefully as I open the throttle and dive as quickly as I dare. The distance closes quickly and I am soon within twenty metres of the Englishman. My lessons are coming back to me. I hold fire another few seconds until I practically touch the Nieuport. When my twin Spandaus finally speak the entire enemy machine staggers under the rain of bullets. It tumbles earthward and slams into the mud near the English trenches. Once again I begin to take accurate ground fire and turn away quickly for home.

At dinner I learn that neither of the day’s claims has been confirmed. An infantry unit claims to have fired two machine guns at my camel as it skimmed over the rooftops of Menen. As for the Nieuport, I had no great hope of gaining that one anyway. We were too low and over a low ridge from our own lines. Still, my comrades stood me several glasses of champagne in consolation.

30 June 1917

We are the second flight of the day this morning, and once again I permitted to wear the leader’s streamers. I have with me Blume, Fritz Loertzer, Auer, and Dannhuber – four Leutnants led by a Feldwebel! Our job is to patrol north of Ypres where a new balloon has appeared across from Langemark. It is wet and cloudy so we fly south for a bit after takeoff to find some clear sky for the climb. We spiral up to 2500 metres and set course north-west, flying obliquely over the lines. I turned my head like an owl. The grey walls of cloud surround us and the English gentleman can appear suddenly like thieves from an alleyway. Off to our left are several aircraft. They shine pale in colour in the occasional wash of pale sunlight – probably yellow Spads or silver-white Nieuports. They are with two larger machines. I suspect they are escorting a reconnaissance flight. That is good news. They will not interfere with us if that is the case.

They do not need to. Directly ahead are several shimmering white specks that quickly take form as Newport scouts. There are seven of them to our five. We have a fight on our hands! In the first minute, aeroplanes are everywhere. I nearly collide with an Englishman. Two seconds later I come within a metre of another black and white Albatros. And then the swirling melee spreads across the sky. One of the Nieuports is staying high above the others. There is no one behind me so I begin to climb. He gets closer and closer but then he sees me and snaps into a half roll. I follow. The Englishman is capable but not talented. Even with the bus I am driving I can get behind him. Three short bursts and he spins away downwards. I follow in as steep a spiral as I dare, slipping with full rudder when I can. The Nieuport is gone for several seconds and then I see him. He has levelled out at around 1500 metres. I search the sky behind me and above and begin a long shallow dive at half throttle. The enemy machine is over the lines north of Ypres when I pull up behind and beneath him. Again I close the distance until our two machines are nearly touching one another. I fire a long burst. He pulls up and falls away. I have him for sure! But no, for he recovers above the forest of Houthulst and turns west again. I see Dannhuber diving on him. Where has he come from? But this Englishman is mine. I dive at him with the throttle open, closing too quickly and firing all the way. The Nieuport manages a quick burst at me as I overshoot but he misses. I come about one more time and fire yet another burst. The white machine rolls on its side and dips beneath the treetops. A column of smoke rises from the woods.


"Again I close the distance until our two machines are nearly touching one another."

Dannhuber has found our balloon, which is not far away from where the Nieuport fell. I see him pressing home his attack through clouds of shrapnel bursts. Now that the Flak gunners are entertaining themselves with my comrade I turn toward the balloon and dive. I begin firing at 400 metres and continue until a trickle of flame emerges and quickly erupts in a fireball. In delight I roll my machine across the sky above the enemy gunners.


"I begin firing at 400 metres..."

I return with Dannhuber to find that the other three are all safe and that Blume has bagged a Nieuport. I claim my Nieuport and the balloon, both of which were witnessed by Dannhuber, who is good enough to tell the Staffelfuehrer that the balloon did not begin to catch fire until my attack. The report goes to 6th Army and is quickly approved. I now have my fifth and sixth victories.

In the afternoon I join the boss, Auer, and Blume. We are to escort two observation machines to photograph the British lines north of Ypres. The weather is still damp and cloudy and it takes us nearly thirty minutes to find the pair of Rumplers and shepherd them across to their assigned area. Before we get there, however, a number of Sopwiths appear and a roaring fight is underway. One of the Englishman is on Auer’s tail and I get a good burst at him. Then another Sopwith and a third appear. I manoeuvre to shoot at the nearest, but his partner puts a few rounds into my machine. I get away in a climbing turn and look for the Sopwith. These are the older type, not the Camels. One enemy machine dives past me as I turn in a vertical bank. I see grey vapour in a stream behind it. Aha, I think, I have hit the Englishman’s fuel tank. But alas, I quickly discover that I chasing my own tail like a village mongrel and that the petrol vapour is coming from my own machine! There is nothing to be done but get out of there quickly. I switch off and dive through the cloud, praying that none of the Sopwiths follows me. When I emerge, I can see the aerodrome at Menen and, in the distance, the town and field at Iseghem. And so my day of combat comes to an end.

I want to explore the town with Steinmesser after dinner but his crew of mechanics are working late to repair my Albatros. So once again I wander the streets by myself. I pause at the market square near the canal. The Café Belge is open and I look inside. I will not be the only NCO so I find the table and order coffee and a tart. I have never taken much to smoking, but this seems like the right time and place for a small cigar.