Just back from England, and looking forward to catching up with the war! Here is Colin Urquhart's leave story. I hope to get some stick time soon and to catch up with everyone else's sagas...


A journal of the Great War – By an Anonymous Aviator

Part 17

My train from Dover brought me into Charing Cross Station, right in the centre of the city. And what a city! I’d been in London twice during my training in England, but had neither the time nor money to really see the place. I resolved to make up for some of that lost opportunity, so immediately flagged a taxicab to take me to the Cavendish Hotel.

I’d been told about the Cavendish by Flt Comdr Draper, who raved about the place and its formidable matron, Rosa Lewis. Mrs Lewis was considered one of the top cooks in Europe, and was a favourite of our late King Edward. According to Draper, the Kaiser had taken a shine to her before the war and had presented her with his portrait. The Cavendish was overrun with officers, many from the Flying Corps. I felt out of place for only a moment, for I had scarcely been handed my room key and seen my bag scooped up by a porter when the grand lady herself swanned up to me and welcomed me personally, saying it was a pity she had not seen more of the RNAS in the past while. I was also invited to her soirée in her sitting room on the main floor of the hotel. This, I soon learned, was a centre of London social life.

I cleaned myself up and had a brief nap, then changed into my best uniform and headed downstairs. The room was crowded with officers from every branch of the service, the piano tinkled away, and young and interesting ladies of every size and shape laughed and flirted. Champagne flowed, and waiters brought about snacks and treats of all descriptions. I’d never tasted caviar before and discovered a real taste for the stuff. Somehow, one of the RFC types I was chatting with let Mrs Lewis know I was keen on it and I was plied with the stuff all night. I’d been half-starved and looking forward to going out for a good meal, but by nine o’clock I was half-cut and stuffed to the gills so I made my way unsteadily upstairs, only to find another bottle of champagne and crock of caviar on ice waiting for me, compliments of the house.

In the morning I hunted down Mrs Lewis to thank her, but she brushed it off as nothing. “I’ll simply add it onto the bill of one of our wealthier patrons, Lieutenant. It’s the least he could do for the war effort,” she said.

I spent a few days seeing the sights – Buckingham Palace, the British Museum, the Tower, St Paul’s, and so forth. I ended the evenings by meeting with some of the RFC gang from the hotel at Murray’s on Bent Street.

My father had an aunt in Edinburgh whom I’d promised to visit, so I duly took the train to Scotland for a couple of days. As interesting as the city was, it was simply too wet and drear to enjoy in December. My aunt Emma was a lovely lady and she presented me with a beautiful pair of felt flying gloves with a sheepskin outer mitten-gauntlet with a separate index finger. There was a patch of wool on the back of each hand for warming your face or, if need be, wiping your nose. After two days of tea and small-talk, I caught the night train back to London, where I enjoyed one more day in the city before heading back to France. The leave had been an adventure, but I found the experience somewhat lonely and was looking forward to returning to Naval Eight.

On landing in Dunkirk, I received orders to pick up a new Sopwith Pup at St. Pol and return with it to Vert Galant. This, I learned, was to be my own aircraft. And a beautiful thing it was. The engine seemed remarkably well-tuned and the machine fairly jumped into the air. Within a half-hour I was looking down through the mist at that cluster of building straddling the Amiens to Doullens road. I blipped the engine and glided in over the bare trees, settling onto the frosted field.

I was home.


The Cavendish, Jermyn Street, London -- Rosa Lewis was dramatised in the BBC series "The Duchess of Duke Street"

Glad to see you back Bud! Hope all went well on leave. Ya'll are costing me morning time with these great stories. To quote one of my favorite movies, "worth every penny!"

Hi Raine, hope you had a jolly good trip OS. As always, I love the historical touches to your reports. It's not only entertaining, it's instructional!! Good one.

It looks like Urquhart and my livestream pilot Harry Flashmann Jr will be sharing a mess at Vert Galland Raine, Harry's with 66 Sqn RFC, very detailed story, I like the addition of historical photography.

Fritz von Tralenheim
Jasta 8
2 Kette


April 26, 1917.

Reported in this morning. Introduced to fellow Aviators and the Hauptmann in charge. I expressed an interest in the Albatross D-III that I spot parked by the maintenance Tent. He stated that only proven pilots get the newer machines. I will be assigned an older Albatross D-II Scout.
However, I would be shown the machine then off on a solo check ride . Also, be ready for a combat patrol sometime tomorrow I was assigned Yellow 8 a well worn machine.

"Flashman"!!! Heaven help us and the Ladies!!

Love reading these reports guys,i keep saying to myself 1 day il join this merry band in the DID challenge.
Then RL and these 2 mad kids of mine pop up with something new for me to do

Welcome back Raine!
Carrick, let's hope you won't be stuck with that duck for too long.

Today, Squadron Commander Cyrus Gold with his wingmen were to attack the airfield at Ghistelles. Once over the target everyone took turns at strafing the buildings and tents. Everyone except Cyrus, who decided that strafing the 3 Eindeckers ready for take off was a better idea. German pilots did not dare approach their machines for the fear of being cut down by the attacking machines. Cyrus spent all of his ammo on these 3 crates and thus failed the mission as the aerodrome was not seriously damaged.

Fullofit;

" Cyrus spent all of his ammo on these 3 crates and thus failed the mission as the aerodrome was not seriously damaged."

But you kept the enemy craft off of your mates tails and that speaks volumes!!

Robert, I actually wish they have taken off. It takes less ammo to shoot them down, than to destroy them on terra firma.

Albert Earl Godfrey

27 Dec 1916 @ 08h00 Recce escort

Today at briefing we were advised we would be escorting two BE2c from 10 Sqn, along the lines from Thelus to south of Arras. We were to expect 8 to 10 kn winds from the WNW and variable clouds above 4000 ft.

Lt. Graves was to lead “B” flight with Bennet on wing, myself, Sawrey and Meintjes. “A” flight was to assist composed of Lt Cole, Pidcock, and Fry.

We formed up just north of the field at 3600 ft and then headed for our intercept point over Mont St. Eloi. We were there at approximately 08h30 and connected with the BE2c’s shortly there after. The gusting wind made formation flying rather difficult and we spread out a tad for safety sake. We made it over the lines with the BE2c’s above us and commenced our run towards Arras.

Approaching Arras, I saw Graves diving away, but for what I wasn’t sure. The rest of the squad followed as did I. I then saw Graves on the tail of an Albatros and Sawrey on the tail of another. They looked like DI types in the swift glance I had. I was more concerned as to whether there were more of them and I scanned the skies incessantly. Not seeing any further Huns, I returned my attention to Graves and Sawrey’s actions. Each dispatched their Hun pilots and we reformed.

By this time we were somewhat south of Arras and playing catch up with the BE2c’s. We caught up to them on the north side of Arras and all of us turned back across the lines on the return to our bases. The rest of the flight was quiet.

Back at base Graves and Sawrey were being congratulated and I was able to confirm that the two DI’s had crashed. Graves stated they had Jasta 2 markings, but we were unable to confirm this as they had gone down on the other side of the lines.


]

Hey now, those were some of Ahren's boys.

I'll tell Albert to raise a glass in their memory!

Carrick, hope you enjoy your scout.

Fullofit, Three burning aircraft! Never saw that before!

Robert, Nice to see you over here making ready to deal misery to the Huns.

Dudley "Ducky" Duckett
Vert Galant
December 26th, 1916

The foul weather and a month at the front has taken a toll on Dudley's spirits. It seems most of the time all that the squadron is doing is sitting by the fire getting moldy. Christmas day cheered him up a bit as there was a fine meal, the weather allowed a soccer match in the afternoon and a fine concert that evening.

His last few flights have been uneventful. Patrolling friendly territory or our lines. No EA have been sighted. With the cloud, rain and snow they could have been a half kilometer away and no one would have seen them anyway. Time to sip on a glass of wine and get some sleep. Maybe even dream of some pretty young debutante. Preferably a brunette.

thanks, Mfair

Fritz von Tralenheim
Jasta 8
2 Kette


April 27, 1917.


I flew my neuer Flugapparat on a Balloon attack this morning. My wing-mate brewed it up nicely .

MFair, all 3 burning, but only one smoking.

There has been some great reading and pictures here. It is good to see so many joining the campaign. Robert, I'm really enjoying your man's adventures and videos! Colin Urquhart is back in the air and really enjoying the Sopwith Pup after his struggles in the Nieuport 11, where he was afraid to stand up and change drums. You can only do so much with 47 rounds. His memoir continues...

A journal of the Great War – By an Anonymous Aviator

Part 18

The squadron has been going through a blue period when I was on leave. Poor weather kept flying to a minimum, with days of boredom following one after the other. Squadron Commander Bromet did his best to fill the idle hours with lectures and sports, especially rugger and football (i.e. soccer), at which we were rather good. Mr. Brice and Leading Mechanic Black were conducting daily rehearsals for the squadron’s Christmas Revue. My leave had excused me from any significant role in this comedic extravaganza, but I still got press-ganged into wearing petticoats, a silk kimono, and carrying a fan as part of the chorus in a risqué take-off of “Three Little Maids” from The Mikado.

We managed three or four flights before Christmas, but they were low-level, wet affairs, generally close line patrols. We saw nothing and the squadron had bagged no kills since Compston’s kite balloon on the 6th. In that time we had lost Trapp and wrecked four Pups and a Nieuport landing in strong winds. If there was one consolation, that was the last of our Nieuports. We were now entirely a Pup squadron.

I received a letter from Ray Collishaw at 3 Wing in Ochey. They were still active, although also hampered by weather. The Canadians, however, had built a rink in one of their hangars and were playing hockey regularly. He invited me to visit, but since I’d just returned from leave I replied that a visit would have to wait. I was glad to have transferred to the Detached Squadron as all the Canadians at 3 Wing were still Flight Sub-Lieutenants.

Christmas was enjoyable. We had church divisions in the morning, did the rounds of the mess decks, and staggered to the headquarters wardroom in the Bossu farm for and enormous and sumptuous mid-day meal. We wore off the food in an officers-versus-other ranks football match, which the lower decks won 6-4. There was a Smoking Concert in the Transport hangar that evening, which allowed a couple of our Christmas Revue acts to get an airing before the big show, which was planned for 3rd January. 23 Squadron lent a couple of acts, the best of which was a hilarious comic magic turn by one of their sergeant mechanics. He sawed a “girl” in half and there was blood everywhere!

We got off the ground on the 27th, seeing nothing yet again, but our luck changed on the 28th. That morning the cloud broke a bit and the sun peeped through. The rain let up and the wind abated slightly, so Booker led three of us to attack the Hun field at Bertincourt. Besides Booker and me, there was George Simpson and Reggie Soar. We climbed to 10000 feet as we headed east. This was the highest I’d been in a Pup and I was delighted with its nimbleness at altitude. Where the Nieuport had become sluggish and wallowed in the thinner air, the Pup’s light wing loading left it responsive and easy to handle.

We crossed into Hunland north of Bapaume and headed directly to Bertincourt, just a little farther to the east. At my suggestion, we armed with LePrieur rockets in the hope of flaming the Huns’ fuel dump. Booker was beginning his shallow dive to the target and was down to 6000 feet when suddenly he swooped up across my bow in a climbing turn to port. I followed and saw an Albatros break out of a dive with Booker on his tail. A quick glance showed me that the Hun had two or three friends coming at us out of the sun.

Booker’s Albatros turned beneath him, but gave me a chance at a quick burst. I thought I’d hit him, for the Hun turned about and dashed eastward. The others were fully engaged with the newly-arrived Huns, so I chased the Albatros and gave him several bursts from long range. Soon Soar joined me and together we followed the HA all the way back to Bertincourt. The Archie was a little thick, so I loosed my LePrieurs at the Hun hangars and turned towards home. Soar, however, pressed on and claimed the Hun as destroyed, although I could not in honesty say I saw his kill.

I headed back over Bapaume. In the far distance I could make out two specks heading west, likely Booker and Simpson. Then a flash of sun betrayed a lone Albatros heading homeward at low altitude over the town. In a flash I rolled and dived onto his tail. The Hun loomed up closer and closer, completely unaware of my approach. I fired a long burst from the Vickers. The Hun rolled onto its back and dived vertically into a wood just west of Bertincourt, exploding in a cloud of flame, smoke, and earth. Reggie Soar flew past me at that moment wagging his wings. He confirmed my kill, my sixth official victory and my first in a Pup.


"At my suggestion, we armed with LePrieur rockets in the hope of flaming the Huns’ fuel dump."


"The Hun rolled onto its back and dived vertically into a wood just west of Bertincourt, exploding in a cloud of flame, smoke, and earth."

Journal Entry 28 December, 1916
Pronville

Another Christmas has come and gone with no indication that this war will ever end. This was my second Christmas at the front and quite frankly, I had a little difficulty arousing any Christmas spirit. In the past, Christmas has always been my favorite holiday of the year with my mother fussing around the house decorating everything in sight. It is also the only time that father would venture into the kitchen to prepare his delectable goose with Aunt Margaret close on his heels trying to learn his secret recipe. I have very fond memories of this time of year, but sadly, I think those halcyon days are past. On the other hand, the men had no difficulty in celebrating and I made sure that my melancholy did not affect their festivities. I had arranged a special Christmas feast with all of our traditional specialties. The men performed songs and skits, which to be honest, were really very good. All in all, the men really enjoyed themselves and managed to forget the war for a short time.

Yesterday was my birthday, I am 22 years old. In the mess at breakfast, I was observing the men and I could not help but notice how much older I look and feel. I suppose that almost two years of combat flying does have a detrimental effect on one's health and appearance. After breakfast, I led the morning patrol down near Perrone. We were to orbit over one of our aerodromes that the enemy had recently been harassing and to provide some sort of protection if the enemy appeared. As we were flying to our patrol area, I spotted a flight of three of the newest Sopwith scouts way off in the distance. One of the men signaled to me that he had spotted the enemy and wanted to attack, but I waved him off and pointed forward to our assigned task. I sometimes think that the men chafe a little at my strict requirements for obedience to orders. I can imagine their frustration and that I am not allowing them to score victories, but this war will not be won by individual acts of valor. It will be won by obeying orders and doing our duty to the fullest. I digress, we continued on and began our patrol and after about 10 minutes I spotted two R.E. 8s approaching the aerodrome with the purpose of bombing said aerodrome. I signaled the attack and the lads quickly dispatched the Tommies. We completed the patrol and headed home. About halfway home, I spotted the same flight of Sopwiths and this time I released the men to attack. We had a nice little scuffle and then both groups decided to head home. I noticed one of the Sopwiths was chasing my men even farther into our territory so I began to pursue him. He began his attack over the Estree-en-Chasau aerodrome and would have bagged Leutnant Voss if he had not been prepared for the enemy attack. I had now closed the distance sufficiently so that I could begin my attack. I made one diving pass and fired a burst hoping to distract him from his attack on Voss. I must have either hit the pilot or shot away a control line because the enemy aeroplane immediately flipped over and dove straight into the ground. As a matter of fact, it almost plunged into one of the hangers on the aerodrome. We landed and of course my victory was confirmed. Apparently, my victory was one of the new Sopwith scouts called the Pup. The only thing I can say in regards to the new enemy scout is, it is like trying to shoot butterflies. You manage to get one in your sights and before you can fire they flit away. I have a sinking feeling that we have just met our new nemesis. Anyway, not bad for my birthday. Of course, the men had a celebration in my honor and or course I acted surprised even though I knew all along what was being arranged.

This war always reminds you that it is the master and yesterday was no different. In spite of the celebrations of our victories and my birthday, death was still present. I had sent Gefreiter Jung and Unteroffizier Rost up to the lines for a simple patrol to familiarize themselves with our patrol sector and they never came back. These are the kinds of deaths that haunt me, what happened? Did they meet the enemy? Did they crash? No one prepares you to lose me in this fashion, where they simply disappear.

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Robert, I added the loss of those two men to tie into your story from the 27th. So, now when you toast them you will have names.

Some GR8 reports to read today!

Glad to once again read of Colin's adventures. Raine you have a way of choosing the correct terms and lingo of the time

Banjoman. Nice touch there, linking our two stories. I enjoyed Ahren's reflections and moods.

MFair. Excellent write up Sir. Thoroughly enjoyable.

Seems everyone is having poor weather!