Dirk McGurt Mission#8:

April 14

Woke up late back from my R&R and had to catch the afternoon patrol as punishment. Spent the morning watching my favorite program on the Tele: "Fromage Matins" when Giles Giroux came on with a weather report: Front moving in, temperatures dropping, severe snow storms upon us. Shuddering, I donned my cold weather gear and jumped in my newly restored mount for what was sure to be a frosty patrol:

WHAT!?!? Son of a gun! Even in 1917, weathermen are useless. Since I got back late, the C/O sent us on a milkrun to the one place in all of Europe we all knew the Huns weren't: the Atlantic Coast.

Seems Omar Bagley is going to have us circling in the vicinity of St. Andre aux Bois aerodrome for about a half an hour. We set out expecting to see nothing like an enemy. Much to our surprise...we were completely right.

Having practiced our circles, we began to head home when Bagley pointed up and started to climb. Squinting into the sky, I couldn't see anything. Eventually three small specks resolved themselves about 2000 feet above us. We spent some time maneuvering under them for the attack:

When the time was right, we opened fire on them.


Damn! I swear those two-seaters are deadlier than der Rote Kampfflieger himself! In the last mission, despite being outnumbered and under concentrated ground fire, we shot down five enemy Albatri at the cost of one plane down with the pilot slightly wounded. This time, outnumbering our enemy 2 to one, we managed to shoot them all down, but suffered three injuries. It put me out of commission for 10 days, and my arm still feels like someone poured acid down the bullet hole!

April 15, 1917
Military Hospital #14
Near Amiens, France

Dear Mum & Dad,

I'm writing today from yet another hospital bed, my second in two weeks. I suppose I should be thankful, for my last mission should by all accounts have been my last.

It started out alright, with the high command having deemed me worthy enough to fly the latest Allied scout, the Nieuport 23. My mates and I took off this morning for another recon escort mission. You should have seen the sunrise, it was glorious!




We met up with the recon aircraft, F.E.2.b's of No.57 squadron. The mission went well, until I looked above me and noticed six machines flying high above us. As they approached closer, I finally identified them: Huns! Six bloody Huns flying their latest scout, the Albatros D.III.




I'm ashamed to day this Mum, but for the first time in this war, fear overcame me. Since there were only three of us in the escort flight, I knew our odds of surviving was poor. Please don't say anything to anyone, but I waggled my wings at my flight commander and tried to get him to turn around and run for safety. But he either ignored me, or didn't see me.

I had just banked to the west in order to put some distance between me and the Huns so that I could think this through. Too late! They were on me. I heard the tatatatatatat from their machine guns, and felt a sting in my left buttock, of all places!
Turning in my seat, imagine my surprise when I saw how close two Huns were behind me!



My training kicked in, Dad. I whipped my machine around in all sorts of banks and turns, losing altitude the whole time. The Huns continued to shoot from time to time, with me having to turn back at them when they got too close. By all rights, I should have engaged them and died with honor. But, I couldn't help it. I just ran. I wanted to live to see you again.

I had almost given up hope, when in the distance, I spotted one of our observation balloons. Remembering that balloons are very well-protected by archie - sorry, that's anti-aircraft guns - I pointed my crate towards it and hoped I would win the race. Blessed by my strong engine and a bit of McGroin luck, I made it.




Both Huns followed me right to the balloon, and I was almost at my wits end to escape their relentless pursuit. Glory be, those blessed blokes below me really gave those Huns a bit of what for! One of the Huns finally had enough and broke off and headed back towards the lines.

This left one very stubborn Hun to deal with. I admit, by this time I was flaming mad! I hauled my crate around and within a minute or so, I had turned the tables on my potential killer. I really let into him, Dad. All that rabbit hunting with you and Uncle Charles really paid off today.




After emptying a full drum of Lewis into him, his machine staggered, fell over on one wing and smashed into the ground.




I was so relieved, I could scarcely believe that I was still alive, and there were no more Hun machines around. At any rate, I didn't wait to find more. I buggered off for the nearest aerodrome just as fast as my machine could carry me!

When I landed, I could not move. I was stone stiff and my hands were shaking like leaves! The mechanic chaps were good enough to run out and lift me out of my machine and stick a lit cigarette into my mouth.

I was shipped off to hospital again, and here I sit. Well, lie is more like it. I shant think I'll be sitting on anything for quite sometime until my bum heals!

Mum, Dad. I'm ashamed at my behavior. I should have stayed with my flight and helped them. But I didn't. I couldn't help myself. When I saw those Hun machines, so high above us, I knew we were for in for it. I don't know whether I'm getting smarter as the war drags on, or more cowardly.

Right. Enough of that.

Please don't worry about me. I'm doing spectacularly well in hospital. All kinds of pretty nurses and even a spot of Rum from time to time. Not such a bad place, eh?

Give my love to Aunt Rachel and Uncle Charles. Take care of yourselves.

Your son,

Holden

Well played! Going for the balloon was a good plan, they have saved me more than once! The McGroins should proud of their son. When you go back to see them, don't forget to hold them!

Did you see the guy who almost rear ended me? There must be a whole squadron of suicidal rear enders out there!

4 April, 1917:
We received a call from the front that a flight of enemy two-seaters had crossed the lines near Arras; five of us took off immediately to intercept. As we climbed towards the lines we spotted white archie puffs above us and turned towards them. Soon we could make out five aircraft in a wide vee formation, and we were rapidly gaining on them. The Germans, DFWs it looked like, saw us and began a belated turn for home. As we closed in, one of them panicked and broke formation. I went after this one.



I cautiously approached from the rear, firing short bursts from long range to try to put the gunner out of action. With no return fire I assumed the job was done and closed in. I overshot, and as I passed my Nieuport flicked into a wicked snap roll which nearly was the death of me. I must have missed the DFW's wing by inches.




I recovered and came around for another pass. I closed right in this time, no longer concerned about the gunner. But suddenly he sprang back to life and began firing. He must have been wounded and unsteady as he swung his gun wildly from side to side and never hit me, in spite of the close range. I finished the job for good and all with my next burst which silenced the gunner and set his petrol tank alight. The cockpit was soon engulfed in fire and the DFW drifted aimlessly as the flames overcame the crew. I genuinely felt pity for them. I knew they had it coming as soon as they foolishly broke formation, but I was sorry it had to end like this. Better quick and clean. Soon the crippled kite was spiraling earthward, my fifth victory.




Then turned back towards the fight which had been progressing this whole time with little result. A DFW became separated from the formation and I went after him using the same tactics as before. But this gunner was sharp as a tac and stitched me full of holes before I could get any good hits on him. I made a forced landing on a road, petrol tank empty after taking a bullet. I reflected very soberly that it could have lit off just as easily as had the tank on my DFW. Thoughts like these make me think I should have joined the infantry.

Great updates so far. I've flown 4 missions and haven't had time to update. Will post some screenies and gory details soon.

In a nutshell, though,Earl Roberts is a goner.
1st mission a friend collided with me and I landed safely but spent 15 days in hospital.
2nd mission I pulled a just a tad too tight in a dogfight and lost a lower right wing. Came down banking right but moving forward somewhat, and even though I crashed hard I somehow only ended up in hospital another 8 days. By the time I got back my mates had nicknamed me "Groundhog."
3rd mission was a friendly patrol in which my lone wingman and I came across 4 bombers. I shot one down and landed safely.
4th mission was an airfield attack. Our 4 planes got there just as 6 Albs were taking off. Cool sight. I shot one down and then got into a turn with another but still wasn't accustomed to just how sensitive the Nieup 23s are (maybe tinkering with joystick sensitivity is in order) and ended up becoming one with a tree.

I suppose my mates can change my name to 'Woodpecker,' but perhaps most appropriate is 'Mincemeat.'

Good luck all!

Tough luck, Glubber!

Rick - being told to fly WEST definitely sounds like a punishment. Going up against two-seaters is even worse.

Wilhelm - Cowardice? More like living to fight another day!

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WOW! Took an entire pot of coffee to get caught up with all that's happened here since I was last able to check in.

Leaf85, Rover_27, 77_Scout, Robert_Wiggins, and Glubber: your virtual selves shall be sorely missed at mess and we raise our glasses and drink to your heroic exploits.

Beanie, Minalmist, Adger, Rick_Rawlings, Kaische, corsaire31, Slick Wilhelm, Shiloh, and gecko: wonderful reports, videos, and screenshots, (as were those of our recently fallen brethren). They all added up to a fantastic early morning read.

Fletcher Greene has had an eventful few weeks what with a hospital stay, convalescence, travels, and several exciting missions, all of which I hope to add to his story when time allows. Statistically, it is currently 11 May 1917 for the young flyer, he's flown 8 missions, has the MC along with 11 confirmed kills, and has been promoted to Lieutenant. I fear his star may be ascending far too quickly but only time will tell.

Keep up the superb reports folks, they are a treat!



Lou

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That's how Charles met his fate, so I know what you mean!

Lou, glad to hear Fletch is still in there and doing fine. Was wondering what was happening since I hadn't seen a post.

Slick, keep em coming! Can't wait for more reports.

Gecko, Sorry, you've had some hard times there.

gecko: close call but great screenshots!

Glubber: By Grabthar's hammer, by the sons of Worvan, you shall be avenged.

Louvert: Looking to see more of Fletcher's exploits, watch out for Archie, though!

4th mission of 2nd Lt. Colin Mahone.

"Escort of a pair of B.E.2c from RFC-15 by our flight of 5, 3 N23 and 2 N17, led by A J L "Jack" Scott. The routeing went eastward along the frontline.



I sticked with the reccon flight while the leader went westward again.



For the time everything looked safe...





Until now, where did this fellow came from???



Things went red... Chased by at least 3 Albatri...
I struggled for survival... Was hit many times, went down to the own frontlines, seeking for some cover by own troops... The engine did not respond too much and I had to seek for a place to land. Beeing on our side of NML I tried to land alongside a noneused railroad, which was successful... On the ground alive, I was not expecting this anymore! Was returned to my unit, learning that my wingman is missing. Hope to see him alive, again!"

Way to hang in there, Kaische. Watch out for those Red guys! Hope Justin makes it back!

Thank you, Rick, that´s my hope, too. Don´t know, why my leader abandoned his task to escort the B.E.2c´s. In ones own interest it may be much wiser to stay with your flight, for mutual assistance when having enemy contact, apart from the fact that your flight leader or your CO might want to know good reasons for braking formation... But the poor B.E.2c´s...

Dirk McGurt #9

April 25th

After the wounding in my last mission, I noticed I got some blood on my plane climbing out of the cockpit. During my convalescence, I grabbed a brush in my off hand and finished the job:

Today we were sent up to patrol the enemy lines, B flight headed by Capt. Greg Barnet:

Almost no clouds in the sky made me hope for a good line of sight on anyone that would want to give us trouble. It was another day of heavy bombardment along our sector. The lines of artillery impacts stretched for miles. Whenever I thought of my former Highlander Regiment stuck somewhere down in the muck, it always made me shudder:

We angled towards the east, keeping a constant eye out for trouble. Aside from the chaos below us, things seemed calm in the skies:

After about 10 minutes along the front, Capt. Barnett dipped his wings and began climbing to the west. I looked over my shoulder to try to spy who he was angling in on. Little did I know they were ahead of us, almost directly above!



Their first pass damaged my wing enough that my maneuverability was on par with theirs. Circling in a stalemate for a while, I knew I couldn't just outrun several of them at once. I didn't have time to see what was going on above me, but I caught a glimpse of one of my wingmen far below. Deciding to set a trap, I dove for him, hoping to drag my remaining pursuers down to the deck where I would have some backup and the advantage of their limited handling near the ground. If they pulled away for home, I might get a good shot on one of them. Looking back, it appears that they had had their fill for the day and were heading for their lines. Checking over my machine, despite some turning loss, everything else seemed in good working order, so I climbed back up, hoping to catch a straggler far from home.

When I reached 7000 feet, Tim Scarborough's planed pulled up beside me.

Holding a brief conversation in points and nods, we decided to head over the lines to see if we could catch anyone unawares. We set out east and struck a northward tack a little north of Cambrai. Despite our taunting presence, Archibald was our only adversary:

As an aside, what poor German squadron drew the short straws to get that crappy aerodrome?

After about 20 minutes on the front, and declaring that we had patrolled the enemy lines to the best of our ability, Tim and I decided to head for home.
On the way back to the airfield, we passed a friendly observation balloon and waved:

Hmm, weren't those guys standing a little too close to each other? Oh well, time to plug some more holes:

Overall, we did quite well, shooting down three enemy scouts with no losses of our own.

*Sim side note. I was not the flight leader, nor was the flight leader incapacitated. But Tim Scarborough did come and join up with me for the reminder of the flight. I'm not sure what conditions triggered it (I didn't think it was possible) but from an immersion standpoint, it was super cool!

double post...

Dirk McGurt #10.

Man, I have to stay away from Mission #10s! Balloon busting near Monchy, Sam Gibson and Spencer Horn were with me when we were attacked by enemy fighters on the balloon approach. Turning with them down on the deck, I heard a crash and started spiraling out of control for two seconds before impact. I wasn't able to tell if it was a friend or foe that ran into me. I had a faint premonition that I was also killed in another life on my tenth mission, fighting for the Germans that time, though.


Carry on, the living!