No idea, Lou, to be honest.
I am feeling MUCH better now after a long bad phase, but I haven't yet found back
into the cockpit really. I am sure though, that I will get there, sooner or later.

NAVAL ACTION is really nice - but it takes far too long to shoot someone down!

MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM Hey Lou, If Olham could name his ship, what do U think it would it be ?

Hint : A name used for a type of Bird and also used as a name for a plane.

Hint # 2 Not a Owl or Hawk.

Haha - yeah - AND the name of a famous instrumental from Fleetwood Mac!
For the ship classes I can sail so far (Briggs, Sloops), that name would fit nicely, Carrick!

Olham, have you ever read the "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"? Your favorite bird has quite a large part in this famous poem.

Yes, I have! It was mentioned in one of the best Donald Duck stories drawn by the great Carl Barks!
I hadn't known it before. "Never shoot the Albatros!"
Unfortunately, the Royal Navy boys don't seem to know the poem!

Then there was also this sketch by Monty Python's Flying Circus!

Great to hear from Artemus again! His escape reads like one of those old-fashioned boys' adventures! Good stuff!

Some background music:





Niemann's transfer to Marine-Jasta III was approved today, which is nice! The Pfalz is not a bad machine, but the Fokker D.VII is something else entirely:



The mechanics wasted no time painting their new Staffelführer's machine according to his wishes. (Thanks to Olham for the skin!)

Before his transfer to MFJ III, Niemann managed to shoot down one Sopwith Camel in a rather dramatic fashion:




The enemy machine exploded into a huge ball of fire after Niemann had shot a few bursts from his guns at it. A shocking death, but at least the poor fellow didn't have to suffer long as the remains of his machine fell down on a field in Flanders.

This kill brought Niemann's score to 54 confirmed victories.

The "Deadly Finn" striked again!
My pleasure, when you like and enjoy the skin, Hasse!

Olham:

U R a good sport.

Good at sports? Me? Never!

Lou, I'm loving the adventures of Artemus. I've loved escape stories since I was 10, when I devoured The Wooden Horse (re-read countless times since).

Hasse, very nice livery on your DVII. Please stay away from my part of the lines. I'm trying to get Jack home in November!

Olham, whether you're flying or not, it's always great to have you in the mess!

Here are the latest reports from Jack Cairns...

On 24 June we were sent down south again to attack a balloon east of Amiens. The cloud was very heavy and we separated as we descended through it. I emerged alone, not another friendly aircraft in sight. I spotted a balloon several miles off and headed for it. Despite emptying most of my ammunition into it, the thing held together while the Huns below winched away. It was becoming too hot, so I climbed above the clouds and made my way home for second breakfast.

Sergeant-Major Hayes mentioned to me that one of our new lads, Second Lieutenant Ness, has written off his undercarriage three times in as many days and his ack emmas are dog tired. I promised to have a word with him. There was no mail from Vanessa, and I continued to have foul thoughts of her on the town with Reggie the banker. Twice I had to throw away the beginnings of letters I should have regretted.

In the afternoon I led a two-flight escort for some RE8s as far south as Marchélepot. The Archie was filthy thick, but we saw no air Huns at all. I am truly sensing a change in the mood of this war. There will be a push soon, I believe, and this one might see the job done.

The following day I led a squadron show down to Viller-Bretonneaux. The day was clear and warm. I left my fug boots behind and was quite comfortable even at 17000 feet. As we crossed the Somme, Burge darted ahead and signalled that the enemy was in sight. He pointed towards the sun, now well up. Five spots showed up, not too far off and a thousand feet or so higher. I turned to position myself east of them. They soon could be made out as Rumplers, five in all. I took Slater and his flight to attack from the beam while Tempest and his flight came up from behind and below. Before long, a long black smoke trail wound earthward. I could not tell if it was friend or foe. A second smoke trail began its fiery descent. Then a Rumpler fell past me, spinning. I rolled and followed it, but the Hun seemed truly out of control. I eased out of the dive gently. The SE was well past 200 mph at one point. In the end, we score three two-seaters downed for no losses. Burge and Bissonette each had one and the OOC was claimed by Lt Emerson, a recent transfer-in.

On the morning of 26 June we went after a balloon near Lille. Burge and I went in first and my second long burst set it alight. Wing was reluctant to confirm the kill, as they had no report of a downed balloon. The claim remained outstanding.

The morning patrol of 27 June was an escort job to Lens. The RE8s strutted about interminably, but no Huns were aloft, it seemed. The afternoon patrol that day was entirely different. It was a squadron show to bag a balloon near Lille. We arrived at the right place but no balloon was seen. I climbed back up to 12000 feet and led the patrol south over the lines. Before five minutes had passed, we spotted five two-seaters ahead and a little below us, heading west. They were escorted by six Albatros scouts. The Albatri spotted us before we would head off the two-seaters and we were forced to meet them. It was a Saturday-night Glasgow street fight with SEs and Albatri all over the sky. I got quick shots at several Huns, but one could not focus for more than a second or two without risking collision. After several minutes, I spotted one enemy machine about 1000 yards away. He was turning back to the fight and scrambling for height. I approached from his right side at full throttle and held the Aldis a little ahead. The Hun flew through my opening burst, rolled, and dived below me. The enemy aircraft was yellow with a mottled greenish upper wing surface and a pale blue tail. He was a good one. If I took my eye off him for a second to check behind, he would snap around and come at me. We passed several times head on. Each time I climbed and fell over on a wingtip to come back at the Hun, but he did the same thing. Gradually we lost height. After one pass I turned about a little sooner than the Hun and got a crack at him. He spun away and I followed him down. About a thousand feet above the trenches he suddenly pulled up and I followed, closing to within twenty yards. I fired and his machine broke up in the air, fragments of wing passing close above my head.

Another claim. We shall see.


"A second smoke trail began its fiery descent. Then a Rumpler fell past me, spinning. I rolled and followed it..."



"I fired and his machine broke up in the air, fragments of wing passing close above my head."

Wow, looks like the planes are breaking up all over the front these days! Great pics Raine, and another good story about Jack!

Albrecht is still stationed in North Flanders - Jabbeke field is quite close to his former base at Coolkerke. Most of his combat encounters are with with the former RNAS squadrons, which are still using a lot of Camels. I don't think Albrecht has ever had to fight against Jack's unit. And that's probably for the best for both of their safety.

Thanks, Mark!
Man, that last screenshot is a good appetizer for flying the S.E.5a !

Olham, I'd also love to see new stories from the famous Harms family of pilots!

Maybe one of them could be flying in the other DID campaign in 1916, when life is not yet quite as hectic as in the final months of the war? There's the battle of Verdun to fight, and my other DID pilot, Offizierstellvertreter August Ege, is flying an Aviatik in FFA 71 down there.

If Niemann dies, I'm not sure that I'll create a new pilot for the few months that are still remaining before the Armistice in November. I'd probably have some trouble adjusting myself to the life of a completely new character so late in the war. I may just devote more flying hours to the other DID if that were to happen.

I think that my first pilot for the next DID campaign (which we'll hopefully start after this one reaches its end!) will be a Frenchman. I'd like to experience the air war from a completely different point of view for a change.

Of course if it were to happen that the devs added the Belgian air force before that, I know where my first new DID pilot would be serving...

.

Raine, glad you’re enjoying Arty’s escape adventure. I also love such stories. Your Jack is certainly keeping busy, but he shouldn’t dwell on Vanessa, women are too fickle. Then again, the heart wants what the heart wants.

Hasse, good to know you are enjoying the escape tale as well. Congrats on Niemann’s transfer, his new mount and livery are VERY sharp! As to losing your DID pilot after this much time and this late in the campaign, don’t know that I could start a new one either.

Carrick – hee hee – yeah, I’m pretty sure about that name for Olham’s ship too.

And, since you folks are liking the read …

.

(26 June 1918, Hannoversche Waggonfabrik Flugzeuge)

Artemus had made the stroll to the Hannover factory and arrived at the main entrance by mid-morning. He was surprised at the size of the facility and the number of finished aeroplanes parked about along the field. The place was a bustle of activity. After a brief initial survey of the plant Burroughs walked up to a small metal-sided hut at the edge of the road which he assumed was used for checking workers in and out, but no one was inside. He continued on towards the nearest of the four large buildings and hadn’t gone more than a few paces when someone emerged from it and walked quickly towards him, shouting loudly as he did so.

“What are you doing there?! What do you want?!” The fellow was older, with a pronounced limp to his gait, and he seemed quite agitated. Burroughs stopped and waited for him to close the gap. As the man neared and got a better look at his supposed wounded countryman his demeanor changed markedly.

“Oh, my apologies soldier, I did not realize…” the man trailed off for a moment. “Can I help you with something? Do you wish to see someone here?”

Artemus began his performance as he cleared his throat with a painful grimace than croaked out a halted statement, “Passing through on my way home - gentleman in town said I should visit here - a wonderful factory to see.”

The man now looked pitifully sorry for having shouted. “Ah, of course, one of our young heroes on his way home. Wounded during the Kaiserschlacht no doubt, such bravery. I could not serve myself because of a bad leg you see, so I do my part here. Let me find someone to show you around. Please, come with me and I will find you a place to sit while you wait.”

“No need to sit - my legs still work”, the ersatz returning war hero assured smilingly.

Artemus was led to an office in the large building he had been initially walking towards and was asked to wait while a guide could be found. The office was an all-glass affair and looked out onto one of the production floors of the factory. Dozens of fuselage skeletons were aligned in perfect rows as workers busily tended to them. What a few well-placed bombs wouldn’t do to bring this operation to a grinding halt. As this thought crossed Burroughs’ mind the door to the office swung open and a tall gentleman in a long white worker’s coat stepped inside.

“Hello, I am Herr Schmidt, one of the lead assembly supervisors here. And you are?”

Artemus, again clearing his throat and this time pointing to the bandage on his neck for added effect, raspily replied, “Sorry, throat healing - Private Niemeyer - on my way home - was in town and…”

“No, no, please, no need to explain further, I have already been made aware of that by our fellow that escorted you here”, Herr Schmidt interrupted concernedly. “It would be my pleasure to give you a tour of our factory, but it will have to be rather brief I’m afraid. We are quite busy at the moment.”

“Very kind of you Sir – don’t want to intrude.”

“Not at all, anything for one of our brave boys. If you will follow me we will start with assembly.”

Herr Schmidt, despite his warning it would be a brief tour, made it a thorough one. He walked Artemus through the entire process and each time he paused to allow his guest to interject Burroughs would present a rather simple-minded smile and caw, “Das ist wunderbar”. All the while he was secretly making mental notes and sizing up how he might be able to slip back into the facility, lift a worker’s coat and cap, and get to one of the aeroplanes sitting ready and waiting on the field. As it was about to turn out, such additional furtive actions would not be necessary.

At the end of the tour as the pair walked from the final building and back outside Herr Schmidt asked, “So Private Niemeyer, I suppose you would like a look at our finished product ready to go, yes?”

“Yes, please - never been near an aeroplane – only ever saw them up there,” Artemus lied as he pointed upwards towards the partially clouded sky.

The supervisor led them to the field and gave a brief description of each plane as they came to it. The one that caught Burroughs’ eye though was of a slightly different design than the rest and sat nearest the edge of the runway, engine idling, workers clearly making preparations for an impending flight.

“That one looks different - why?” Artemus rasped.

His unwitting guide escorted him up to the bus in question and with a proud voice proclaimed, “This one IS different. It is one of two prototypes of our very newest Hannover design. It has more power and payload, can reach speeds of 185 kilometers per hour, and will climb to 9,000 metres altitude. We are preparing it for another endurance flight to ensure it continues to perform well for extended hours in the air.”

“Das ist wunderbar - what is the pilot’s area like?” Artemus asked, continuing to act as if he knew nothing about aeroplanes.

“Cockpit my boy, it’s called a cockpit.” Would you like to see for yourself?”

Artemus smiled, his eyes nearly glistening with the thought. Herr Schmidt mistakenly interpreted the look as joy and excitement at such a new and rare experience. If the poor sod only knew the truth.

While Herr Schmidt was being unknowingly helpful he was not a fool and kept one hand firmly on the throttle lever of the idling aircraft lest his charge should bump it while being assisted up and into the cockpit. He kept it there as he explained a bit about what the different controls and gauges were for. Artemus smiled and nodded and again muttered “das ist wunderbar”, all the while familiarizing himself with the plane’s layout.

What happened next was unquestionable proof that the fates can be outrageously kind when they choose to be. As Artemus was secretly calculating if he could get the beast up and over the wheel chocks with full throttle and some vigorous flipping of the rudder side-to-side, Herr Schmidt announced, “Private Niemeyer, our pilot will be coming now to take this one out, would you like to remain seated while we roll it onto the runway?”

“Oh yes please – it will be as if I am flying it”, Burroughs beamed.

With a worker at each lower wingtip and one at the tail with a skid trolley to lift, the craft was rolled into position. As this was being done Artemus, still playing the awe-struck simpleton, was rocking his head back and forth while he pretended to push the joystick about. Herr Schmidt smiled at such child-like actions, his right hand still firmly on the throttle lever while his left hand rested on the trailing edge of the top wing. The plane was swung onto the runway and the tail was set back down. Artemus suddenly had a thought and reached into his coat, worked open the end of his provisions packet, and removed his last full chocolate bar.

“Herr Schmidt, I really wish to thank you – want you to have this – it came from a captured British officer”, Burroughs croaked as he touched the chocolate bar to the supervisor’s right hand. He watched with unbridled satisfaction as Herr Schmidt removed his hand from the throttle lever to accept the gift, then, taking it in both hands and holding it up in front of his face, smiled ear-to-ear. The poor fellow was just about to speak when Burroughs swung his left elbow, arm still in the sling, directly against the throttle lever and shoved it full on. The ground crew was not expecting it as the plane lurched from their collective grip. Herr Schmidt certainly wasn’t expecting it as he tumbled backwards off the lower wing, still holding the coveted chocolate bar. Brief moments later the newest model of the Hannover was in the air and gone, and Lt. Colonel Burroughs gone with it.


(to be continued)

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Thank you, Hasse - I wished the same. I'm so far away from flying recently.
Made several attempts to break the spell, but no success.
Guess I mnust give it the time it needs.

Ha Ha! Great stuff! Artemus is at it again!!

Thanks for that Lou!!

I wonder what's next? Will he fly to the Kaiser's headquarters and abduct Old Bill himself?

Lou, your Artemus must have mermerising qualities to make everyone believe he was quite harmless!
At Albatros-Werke in Berlin they wouldn't have let him in without any Ausweis and order, I guess.
Or maybe they would - with THAT innocent, artless face...?


Yeah, that's what I thought - he'd lure the Kaiser to tell him all his plans...
(Wouldn't matter much anymore, would it?)

Upton Baggins
Sgt Rfc
29 Sqn, St-Omer
Flanders, France.

I got out of the hospital this morning. No transportation so will have to find my own way back. So far the only ride doesn't look promising.

Lou,

The Art(emus)ful Dodger flies again! Good reading, although if I worked at Hannover, I wouldn't want some Landser's fleas infesting my nice new plane.