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#4449449 - 11/19/18 02:16 PM Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)  
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Deep Immersion DiD Campaign -- Player Instructions

(With thanks for the inspiration to Olham and CatKnight, creators of our previous DiD campaigns)

The coming of war seemed an invitation to adventure, glory, honours. Or perhaps it was an escape from the slum, from the farm, from unemployment, or simply from boredom. By late 1915, however, war had become an all-devouring beast that made cripples of men and widows of women. Casualty lists spilled over the pages of the daily newspapers. Bombs tore up parks and tenements. Chlorine and phosgene clouds spread their greenish tentacles over the land. Trenches were dug deeper. And always there was the hammer of the guns.

Still, there was another kind of war being fought high above the mud. It was a war where death seldom came from chance shell fired from miles away, where skill and courage made a difference. Up there, you could see your enemy. Better yet, at day's end there was a real bed and hot food. So for you, it is time to ignore the fellows who swear they’d never be caught in one of those damned flying machines. Forget your mates talking about falling in flames. Those things happen to others.



Introduction:

The Deep Immersion Campaign is a chance to follow your pilot day by day through the war and share his story with the rest of the WOFF community. It is a DiD (dead is dead) campaign, meaning that if your man is killed you will have to start again with another pilot. If you’re using Robert Wiggins’s splendid “User Files Backup Program, you may revive your pilot only if you lose him to an accident not related to flying in the sim (e.g. a home emergency pulls you from the sim without properly pausing, a power failure occurs when you are over enemy lines, the cat eats your joystick cable while you are flying, etc.).



The hand of fate

The campaign moderator (CM) will play the role of Fate and will, in accordance with historical plausibility:

• assign each player to an operational squadron;
• initiate transfers;
• award medals, which will be conferred by RAF_Louvert (AKA “The Gong Fairy”) in the campaign thread; and
• initiate long leaves, such as home leave, transfer to training units, etc.

The campaign moderator (CM) will do his best to be fair and balance any bad luck with good, so that you won’t always be flying an inferior aircraft. But, as would happen in real life, you might not always be flying your favourite machine and you're sure to have new experiences in WOFF. The Deep Immersion Campaign may see you fly in machines you’ve never spent much time in before, or in unfamiliar sectors of the front.


Enlistment date:

You may fly training missions starting on 1 December 2018 (which in the campaign will be 1 December 1915). Your training missions will use the Quick Combat “free flight” feature and must be flown in accordance with the instructions below.

The operational phase of the campaign will begin on or after 1 January 2019, which in game terms will be 1 January 1916. From that point on, your 2019 dates will equate to the same date in 1916, and so on until war’s end. If you fall behind due to real life pressures, you may fly additional missions to catch up, but please try not to get too far out of sync. If you need to take some time off, please send a message to the CM and we'll invent a story for your narrative to explain your absence



Enlistment name:

Each pilot is to be given a first, middle, and last name. To avoid repeating the same old names as our previous campaigns, your first pilot’s MIDDLE name should begin with A, your second pilot’s MIDDLE name with B, and so forth.

You may fly one pilot at a time, and when he’s dead he stays dead. You may begin a new career with a new pilot on the following day. As a option, you may wish your new pilot to be the same nationality as the pilot who shot you down.


Enlistment ranks:

Use manual enlistment and choose your pilot’s name, nationality, birth date, place of birth, and the assigned squadron for operational deployment.

If you wish to start as an NCO pilot (common for Germany and France, less common for the UK, start as

German Luftstreitkraefte: Feldwebel
German Kaiserliche Marine: Flugmeister
France: Sergeant
RFC: Sergeant
RNAS: N/A.

If you wish to start as an officer, choose the above NCO rank in-game, but in your accounts give yourself junior officer or senior warrant officer rank until promoted in-game, for example:

German Luftstreitkraefte: In game, start as a Feldwebel, but in your written accounts you will remain an Offizierstellvertreter until promoted Leutnant.
German Kaiserliche Marine: In game, start as a Flugmeister, but in your written accounts you will remain Oberflugmeister until promoted Leutnant zur See.
France: In game, start as a Sergeant, but in your written accounts you will remain Sous Lieutenant until promoted Lieutenant.
RFC: In game, start as a Sergeant, but in your written accounts you will remain a 2/Lieutenant until promoted Lieutenant.
RNAS: In both game and accounts, start as a Flight Sub-Lieutenant.


American enlistment:

Americans may enrol into the French Aviation Militaire (fresh from the Foreign Legion) or into the RFC or RNAS (enrolment in Canada – at risk of loss of citizenship due to taking a loyal oath to the Crown). Transfer to the USAS will be an option in early 1918.



Your first posting:

To start the campaign, send a PM to Raine, preferably on or before 24 November 2018, with the name and nationality of your new pilot and a brief biographical sketch. State whether you would like to fly training missions in December or begin your campaign with a posting to the front in January. Also indicate whether you will begin your career as an NCO or junior officer.

Your training missions in December will simulate the final stage of training, when you will begin to fly an operational type.

The CM will send you by return PM details of you first posting, including the aerodrome and aircraft on which you will complete your training missions, your first operational (i.e. non-training) squadron, and your starting rank.

The CM will assign your first pilot to fly two-seaters. Expect that your first assignment will last a while, as quick transfers to single-seat units are not historical.

Later pilots may find that their first squadron is a single-seat unit, especially later in the war, but that’s up to fate (in this case, the CM).


If you are flying training missions...

1. Set your enlistment date for your operational squadron as 1 December 1915.

2. In the Workshop, under “More Settings,” ensure that “Log” is set to “All” and that “Campaign Date Advance” is set to “Manual / Auto.”

3. Let your campaign load and you will see your squadron details for 1 December 1915, or on the first day of flyable weather after it (December 1915 was a very wet month). Go to the Briefing Room to get a campaign mission, but DO NOT FLY THIS MISSION, as it will be an operational mission at the front and you still need to earn your wings. Instead, exit the Campaign screen and go to Quick Combat.

4. In Quick Combat, set the parameters to “Free Flight,” and set the region to your assigned training region (e.g. England, Germany), and set the field to your assigned training aerodrome (e.g. Netheravon, if that is where the CM told you to train). Ensure your initial altitude is set to “Field” so you take off from the ground rather than start in the air. Be sure you choose the assigned type of aircraft for your training flight.

5. In Quick Combat, fly one mission per day if you have overcast conditions, two per day in sunny weather. After the last flight of the day, exit Quick Combat and return to the Campaign screen.

6. In the Campaign screen, find the button reading “T+” and advance the time to the next day. The Campaign will then advance to the next day. Go to briefing room and generate the next campaign mission. Unless flights are cancelled due to weather, it will generate a mission on the next flyable day. DO NOT FLY THIS OPERATIONAL MISSION. Instead, return to Quick Combat and set up your next training mission from your training field. Continue until you have completed all your training missions and have a minimum of 15 hours of flight time. At that time you may deploy to the front, but may not fly from your new squadron until 1 January 1916.



Training missions

(Credit to OldHat and RAF_Louvert for the inspiration here)

Your training will be complete when you have completed the following:

1. TWO missions involving takeoff, climb to 1000 ft / 300 m, and land on your airfield five times. Ensure you leave your engine on when landing. If you damage your machine, you may not fly until the following day.

2. One mission involving a circuit below 3300 ft / 1000 m for 15 minutes within sight of the aerodrome. Do not turn off your engine. Then take off again and fly a circuit for at least 1 to 2 hours a bit farther away but still within sight of the aerodrome and below 6600 ft. / 2000 m.

3. One mission in which you climb to 10000 ft / 3000 m and remain there for at least an hour. Stay within sight of your aerodrome.

4. One mission in which you fly for an hour before landing somewhere other than an aerodrome. Do not turn off your engine and fly back to your aerodrome. Taxi back to your hangar.

5. TWO missions in which you take off and climb to 6600 ft / 2000 m. Cut your engine and glide down to you aerodrome, landing within 50 ft of a selected location.

6. TWO missions in which you practice aerobatics: slips, loops, and spins.

7. One cross-country flight to another airfield about an hour away. Land, keeping the engine on. Then take off and fly home.

8. Same as (7) above, but at night.

9. TWO flights practising strafing and / or bombing a ground target. RAF_Louvert has included ground targets for training at Catterick and Thetford for RFC pilots, so this will include a cross-country flight. RNAS, German, and French pilots should practice on an isolated farm house near the home training airfield.

10. Deploy to the front after 25 December but not fly from your new squadron until 1 January 2019 / 1916.


NOTE: You may prefer to make custom missions using OldHat’s instructions here: Old Hat Missions

Alternatively, you may wish to create these missions using JJJ’s mission builder.

Or Luddites like me can simply fly then in Quick Combat.



Deployment to the front

RFC pilots will deploy from their assigned training airfield in England to St-Omer. RNAS pilots will deploy from their assigned training airfield in England to St-Pol-sur-Mer. They will be deemed to transfer from St-Omer / St-Pol to their squadron by tender before 1 January.

French pilots will complete their training near Paris at La Réserve Générale de l’Aviation at Le Bourget and will deploy in their operational aircraft directly to their squadron on or after 1 January 1916.

German pilots may ferry an operational type to their squadron, or may simply “take the train” there on or after 1 January 1916.


In-game aids

While flying “full real” is preferred, you may use the following three aids if you must.

1. TAC. If used, TAC must be set for surface units only. May not be set for balloons or aircraft or all,

2. F5, and

3. Cntl Z.



Workshop Settings

Campaign date advance: Manual
Weather: Historical
Wind: On
Rain / Snow: On
Campaign Mission Frequency: Historical
Log: Campaign Only
AI Never Backs Down: Off
AI Enhanced Skill Levels: Off
AI Reduced Vision: On
AI Damage Affects Skill: On
Unlimited Fuel and Ammo: Off
Player Flight Position: By Rank
Player Flight Altitude: Historical
Encounters: Realistic
Mission Frequency: Historical
Transfer: Subject to Review
Flight Model: Realistic
Claims: Normal
Promotions: Normal
Outcomes: Normal
Main Guns: Less Accurate
Rear Guns: Less Accurate
Player Guns: Normal
Gun Jams: On
Ground Gun Accuracy: Normal
Invincible: Off
Random Craft Failure: On
Target Range: Historical



Dot Visibility

Fly with labels set to “dots only.” You may briefly go to “Information” labels to check the name of a witness when you down an enemy machine, but must return to dots only afterwards.
In Workshop, set the distance at which dots are visible as follows. This will simulate gradual gain of air vision:

• 3400 m until > 25 hours flown in combat
• 4000 m until > 50 hours flown in combat
• 5000 m for 50+ hours flown in combat.


Familiarisation flights

Once at your squadron let the WOFF Campaign Manager schedule you a mission but ignore the directions. Instead, complete two circuits around your home airfield and land. Set all other aircraft in the flight to 5% fuel so you will fly alone.

On your next mission less the WOFF Campaign Manager schedule you a mission, but ignore the directions. Fly to the front and back. Again, if hostile aircraft attempt to engage, disengage and RTB.

On your third and following flights from your home field, follow mission instructions.



Squadron transfers

After 35 hours (including transfer and familiarisation flights) you may, but are not required to, request a transfer to another squadron. Do this by sending a PM to the CM (Raine), detailing your total hours and specifying the desired squadron. The CM will either deny the request (in which case you must wait for 10 more hours of flight time), approve the request, or demand that you transfer to another squadron that you will be assigned.

Once your request is approved, you may request the transfer in-game. Because transfers are set to “Subject to Review” in the Workshop, the game may still refuse your request. Sorry, but higher command sucks...

Once in a new squadron, you may ask for additional transfers, but the longer you wait, the more likely the CM will be to approve the request.

There may come a time (especially if you're playing the French) when your squadron becomes unplayable due to lack of useable aircraft. If that happens, you have three options:

1. Emergency transfer: Your pilot sits for a week (7 days). After that, you may restart him in a new career with any squadron from his country. You'll need to manually track the pilot's combined record.

2. Wait: If this is a problem that will eventually correct itself (such as a squadron switching to a different plane), you can choose to wait it out. Your pilot will simply be inactive until he can play again.

3. Retire: You can retire the character and start a new one.


Long transfers

The CM may assign a pilot to a period away from the front for a period of time. You can also request a break like this if you're going through a busy time in the real world. As CM, I'll simply assign an explanatory story, which you can work into your written accounts. RFC pilots should expect a required period on Home Defence or instructor's duties every few months. I'll PM any special instructions when this happens. If you hate this idea, PM me and we'll work something out.



Flight reports

The essence of the Deep Immersion campaign will be the flight reports. Ideally, we’ll get to know your pilot and read the “ripping good yarns” you will write about him. Please try to breathe life into your character and give us an idea of who he really is. We’ll do our best to keep it historically accurate.



Campaign moderator and flight reports

From time to time, the CM may PM players with plot suggestions, interesting facts, or other ideas for your narratives. You are free to ignore these or use them as you choose. The intent is to add to the unpredictability of the campaign.

Because the game award system is not tremendously historic, the CM will PM players with announcements of awards at appropriate moments.

RAF_Louvert will play higher command. The CM will send him a message recommending a decoration, and he will have to approve before it’s final. At that point, RAF_Louvert will post his wonderful investiture photos and medal art and you may then mention the award in your written accounts.



Pilot stats and information

RAF_Louvert will periodically post a chart (such as the one shown on page 2 of this thread) showing the stats for our pilots.



UPDATE Additional rules (Thanks to Fullofit for the ideas)

Regional air activity - set to medium
Historical mission types - On
Gun sight view F6 is allowed.
Let WOFF assign the number of missions per day. There is no campaign limit.
There is no limit on the number of confirmed victories in a day. There were caps in the former campaigns, but recent versions of UE with historical claims settings are tough enough.
External view not allowed if you have a head tracking system.
The target balloon in a balloon busting mission is the only allowable balloon claim.

Good luck to all!

Raine

#4449465 - 11/19/18 04:38 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions [Re: Raine]  
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2Lt Cecil Anthony Melchett is very excited to have received his orders. Time to get out of the mud and into the skies!

#4449485 - 11/19/18 06:24 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions [Re: Raine]  
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To be clear what about mods, which are allowed?

#4449545 - 11/20/18 02:10 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions [Re: Raine]  
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Dutch,

I haven't made any rules about mods, but the idea of this campaign is to be as historically accurate as possible. So mods that focus on adding historic details or ground textures, like Lou and Robert Wiggins's airfields or Olham's rivers mod or Buckeye Bob's cloud mods would be fine. So would JJJ's realistic tracer effects mod be okay, as long as you don't introduce tracer too early (From late 1915 on RNAS Home Defence, April 1916 in general RFC use, and mid 1916 in French and German use, although I am open to correction on this). Mods that don't affect combat like the news mods or ArisFuser's historical aces mod are fine, too. I think the bombsight mods are okay, as would be Robert Wiggin's UI mod.

If your eyesight is going, we'll look the other way if you increase dot size.

I think we should avoid FM mods, though.

#4449554 - 11/20/18 03:04 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions [Re: Raine]  
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I should have my computer working well by then so put me down For : Nigel Archibald Notting, Sgt , Rfc. A former shoe cobbler from Essex and Bicycle Tinker.

Last edited by carrick58; 11/20/18 03:10 AM.
#4449599 - 11/20/18 10:55 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions [Re: Raine]  
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Well the last DiD guy I did was German so sign me up for the RFC. I'll be 2Lt Percival "Drongo" Drummond. An Australian flying for the RFC who used to work in a bank. Let's say he loathed working in a bank so much that he took a revolver to work one day, shot the clock off the wall and announced to the stunned staff "Bugger this for a joke, I quit". He then spent his accumulated savings on passage to England and flying lessons. He's 23 years old, hot tempered and fond of a little tipple every now and then.

(Any WW2 scholars here might recognise part of his back story / character from an actual historical figure)


Let's pretend I got the BWOC badge to embed here.

Wenn ihr sieg im deine Kampf selbst gegen, wirst schwer wie stahl sein.
#4449611 - 11/20/18 12:18 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions [Re: Raine]  
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Do you want this thread stickied Raine?


Regards,

Polovski,
OBD Software, developers of immersive flight sims;
Wings Over Flanders Fields and Wings Over The Reich
http://www.overflandersfields.com
http://www.wingsoverthereich.com
#4449613 - 11/20/18 12:54 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions [Re: Raine]  
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Pol,

That would be appreciated. Thanks!

#4449693 - 11/20/18 08:35 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions [Re: Raine]  
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Nice one Raine! I've been away from WOFF for sometime and was just thinking about making a return... this will be perfect, thank you! PM to follow..

H

#4449701 - 11/20/18 09:34 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions [Re: Raine]  
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I'm in! Pilot profile PM'd.

This will be a great way to spend hours on those cold winter days when I don't feel like venturing out of the house.

#4449708 - 11/20/18 10:50 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions [Re: Raine]  
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Very complex for an old Geezers of 81. I will do my best!


Origin made- silverstone case,ASUS Max VI Extreme , CPU intel Core i7 4770k, cooling asotex 570LC, NVIDA 3G GTX 780 Ti , Mem 16GB Kingston Hyper X DDR3 ,game drive 120GB INTEL X25 SS, OS drive 1TB, Win 7 home Prem.Logitech G105 key board,BenQ XL2430 Gaming Monitor.
All pilots owe me a beer. Retired USAF Rescue/Survival, Special Forces, and MI (after I got old and grey).
#4449710 - 11/20/18 10:52 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions [Re: Raine]  
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I would not miss this for anything! Really looking forward to it. Pilot has been sent up the channels to see where he will live his short life.


Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end.
BOC Member since....I can't remember!
#4450262 - 11/23/18 11:42 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions [Re: Raine]  
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Looking forwards to it...will PM when I get the chance wink

Edit: May be the 25th when I get the news sent...been a bit busy in that silly thing called the 'real world' lately...

Last edited by Wulfe; 11/23/18 11:48 PM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4450315 - 11/24/18 02:46 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions [Re: Wulfe]  
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Don't worry, Wulfe! I may get only one day at my WOFF computer between now and 17 December!

#4450412 - 11/25/18 02:40 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions [Re: Raine]  
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Thanks to all for stting this up. of course, I already missed on the directions, although minor: Raine, I forgot to note in the PM that Karl Arnt Loftus will definitely be doing training. He'll need it.

#4450938 - 11/29/18 03:15 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Well, guys, let's get this show on the road...

An Airman’s Odyssey – by James Arthur Collins

Part One: In which I am born, do very little of note, and learn to fly.

I suppose that when one writes a memoir one starts at the beginning. I was cjavascript: void(0)hristened James Arthur Collins, born in the summer of 1896 to Agnes and Frank Collins of Kingston, Ontario, Canada.

My parents were born in Stanmore, just outside London, where they were childhood sweethearts. Dad saw the army as the quickest way to earn enough to marry Mummy. He served with the 60th Rifles in Zululand and was promoted sergeant. He returned home in 1886, married my mother, left her with child, and headed for Canada to join the North-West Mounted Police. Soon he was writing home with thrilling stories of new communities springing up on the Canadian Prairies and occasional adventures controlling American whiskey traders. Mummy moved in with her parents in nearby Bushey and raised my sister Dorothy.

Father sent for my mother in 1889 and they set up home on a farm outside of Regina, Saskatchewan. Regina was then, and still is, a little bit of bugger all surrounded by a whole lot of bugger all.

I was born there in June 1896 but remember nothing of it. In early 1897, Dad quit the Mounted Police and left for the Yukon, where gold had been discovered. Mummy announced she was putting the farm up for sale and moving east to stay with a cousin in Ontario. If Dad wasn’t home by the end of 1898, she said, she would return to England and civilisation.

Arriving in the Klondike, Dad quickly realized that prospecting for gold was one of the least likely ways to make a fortune in the north. Fortune intervened when he met a Dominion land surveyor named Bill Ogilvie, who was verifying the miners’ staked claims. Ogilvie mentioned that when the claims were corrected, many small fractions were orphaned. Dad began buying up the fractional claims. Then he began buying up bench claims – land up the slopes from the stream beds. As new prospectors arrived in the area to find all the good sites already claimed, Dad sold them shares. The miners did the real work and split the proceeds with Frank Collins. Enough of them found gold to make Dad very comfortable. Meanwhile, Dad befriended a Scot named Angus McCready who had set up a small distilling operation. Father bought him out, and within a year Collins Yukon Gold Whiskey was a well-known name.

My father returned from the North just in time to prevent Mummy from leaving Canada. We settled back east in Kingston, Ontario, where we acquired a fine, stately home with a view of Lake Ontario, close by Queen’s College. Dad set up Collins distillery just outside town and hired Angus McCready to run it. My parents at last enjoyed a good life. Mother revelled in friendships with college professors and their wives while Father dabbled in Tory politics. I remember many elegant parties at the old house.

As a boy I took a great interest in things mechanical, building iceboats to race on the frozen lake in winter and tinkering with motorcycles in the summer. School was quite another thing. I took little interest in studies, which caused Mummy to fret that I would be of little use to anyone other than the army. That suited me fine.

We didn’t see many aircraft in Kingston, but after reading about McCurdy and Baldwin’s flights, I read anything I could get my hands on about aviation. In June 1910, Dad let me accompany him on a business trip to Montreal and we got to attend the Montreal Aviation Meet, where I saw the Wrights and Compte de Lessep put their machines through their paces. From that point on, I knew what I wanted to do.

[Linked Image]
Compte de Lessep at the Montreal Aviation Meet, 1910

In August of 1914 the world went mad. With Germany’s declaration of war, the entire Empire rushed to arms. As an eighteen-year-old, there was no question that I should go, too. I could see how it pained my mother, but my father’s only question was whether I should volunteer in Canada or head back to the “old country” to join the real army. The idea of joining the Flying Corps had been in my head for some time when I confided it to my father. His response was “Don’t tell your mother,” but he made inquiries and told me that it was possible to apply for the RFC without going to England, but it was first necessary to obtain one’s Aero Club of America licence. This could be through the Curtiss School in Hammondsport, New York. He gave me the four hundred American dollars I needed and promised to cover my room and board until I was taken on strength. And so the adventure began.

Or so I thought. On 14 November 1914, my father suffered a heart attack and died. Dorothy and I thought we would lose Mummy too. It was as if the world had ended for her. Until then I had never understood that these two people, my parents, lived very separate lives but were bound so very tightly together. My mother announced at Christmas that she would sell the big house in Kingston and move back to England. Father had left her very well off. In his will he stipulated that I should inherit the distillery and pay dividends into trusts for my mother and sister. He also set me up with enough to be quite comfortable.

So instead of heading to New York, I apprenticed at “my” distillery under Mr. McCready. It was a fascinating job, I discovered. Besides the craft of distilling, I engaged the comptroller, a Mr. Carson, to teach me the financial side of the business. I soon regretted my lack of interest in school work. The newspapers were full of talk of prohibition, and I worried that if I remained attached to the business I would lose my chance to fly for the Empire only to have the business shut down by the government. I directed Mr. McCready to work with Mr. Carson to prepare a plan to move the business to Quebec in the event of prohibition in Ontario. French Canada wisely looked down on temperance as a Calvinist (or worse, Methodist) plot.

In May 1915, Dorothy and Mummy headed to England, leaving me feeling very alone. I needed to get away from Kingston myself. Curtiss, I learned, had opened a new flying school in Toronto. I sent them a telegram and received an acceptance to the school by return wire. At the end of July, leaving the business in McCready’s capable hands, I boarded a train for Toronto…

[Linked Image]
Curtiss Flying School, Long Branch, Ontario

Attached Files Montreal aviation meet.jpgCurtiss Long Branch.jpg
Last edited by Raine; 11/29/18 03:18 AM.
#4450961 - 11/29/18 08:23 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha
You've set the bar pretty high Raine!


Let's pretend I got the BWOC badge to embed here.

Wenn ihr sieg im deine Kampf selbst gegen, wirst schwer wie stahl sein.
#4450963 - 11/29/18 09:37 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Maeran Offline
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And so it begins. A characteristically good start Raine.

I'm still doing my homework as it were. But since it isn't December quite yet, I think I'm alright.

#4451034 - 11/29/18 06:46 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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Raine, great to see you start the ball rolling. James hasn’t done anything yet and it is already an exciting read. What is he distilling? Not gin, I hope?
I’m waiting for Dec. 1 - the official first day of school.


"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."
#4451047 - 11/29/18 08:07 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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77_Scout Offline
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Great start Raine! James already seems quite 'real', thanks to your clever imagination and attention to detail.

I will jump in soon ...

#4451147 - 11/30/18 12:26 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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RAF_Louvert Offline
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L'Etoile du Nord
,

Brilliant Raine, absolutely brilliant!

.

#4451148 - 11/30/18 12:32 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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RAF_Louvert Offline
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.

Here is a clip from the most recent copy of the 1915 Roseau County Times that tells a bit about my pilot.

[Linked Image]

.

#4451158 - 11/30/18 01:27 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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Brilliant! Love the newspaper format. Hope I can get a better copy of the rag next time. My eyes are going and this issue, pulled out of the trash and used as a blanket to spend the night under the bridge, isn’t doing me any favours. Great idea Lou.


"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."
#4451332 - 12/01/18 04:32 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Sgt. Graham A. Campbell

1: Hounslow Heath.


And by some bizarre twist of fate, here I was, about to make my first solo flight! Cpt. Andrews stood beside the B.E.2c, leaning over into my cockpit and pointing to the magneto switches. "Now, Campbell, remember! If the prop doesn't go, switch off!". I nodded in acknowledgement, but the stocky Captain needn't waste his breath. During my time at Oxford, for my pilot's classroom instruction, I had sunk my teeth into every scrap of information, procedure, and piece of knowledge that was thrown before me. I shot a glance to the weary-looking mechanic standing at the nose of my B.E.; his face was gaunt, and weary-looking, I supposed from dealing with the risks of swinging beginner pilots' props all day. Although, fortunately, I hadn't seen it, I had heard from one of my fellow rookies, one Lt. Doyle Weston, that just one week before my arrival some overexcited green pilot had forgot to switch off, and a mechanic had been killed when he failed to get out of the way of the propeller. How brutal!

But, I am getting off-track. By any means, now was not the time to dwell on such things! I had my instruction from Andrews to consider - 5 take-offs, 5 landings. Climb to 1,000 feet in between. I was nervous, but quite confident, although the idea of the landings put the wind up me a little! I had been amazed, when ferried up into the clouds by Andrews on my second day, just how precise and focused he was when coming back in to land. Suddenly I was snapped out of my daydreaming by a sharp pat on the back from Andrews, whom I only now realised had been instructing me all throughout my haze. "Got all of that, Campbell?" he boomed, and, in fear of losing my chance at a first flight, I meekly nodded. "Yes, sir". The Captain looked at me warily, then turned to the mechanic and nodded. Obligingly came the mechanic's voice; "Switch Off". I echoed him, and slowly he begun to wind the propeller counter-clockwise. With his hands raised above his head, gripping one propeller blade, the mechanic gave his next instruction, this time much louder. "Switch on!". I flipped the magnetos up, and turned back. "Switch on!" I responded, and the mechanic briefly exhaled, before shouting "Contact!" and bringing the propeller down with force. The engine of the B.E.2 roared to life, and I couldn't help but grin as I felt the machine vibrating all around me. This was it!

I pushed the throttle full forwards, and in response the B.E. lurched forwards, gaining speed with each second. Suddenly the harsh sounds and vibrations of the wheels and tail skid ceased, and I looked down to see the ground growing smaller beneath me. I was flying, all by myself! Elated, I gently banked to the left, and climbed to the North, looking down at the old Hounslow Barracks and waving like a fool. I was not even sure that there was anybody down there to wave back! Before I knew it, I was at 1,000 ft, and so I completed my half-circuit around the aerodrome and came back in to land from the East. I felt a surge of fear as the ground rushed up to welcome me back, but I mastered myself and kept control of the B.E, touching down smoothly. As I taxied back to the starting position, Cpt. Andrews gave me a wave, and a thumbs-up, which made me feel quite pleased with myself, and then, having gotten back into position, took off again.

This time I was up a little quicker, as I remembered to lift the tail-skid off the ground, and so I continued West this time, looking down at the landscape below with interest. A fleet of trucks had snaked its way out of the Barracks, and I now flew above and alongside them, keeping myself entertained by switching from their left side over to their right, and vice versa. They turned off towards London, and I felt cocky enough to wag my wings in farewell, before turning around for my second landing.

On my third flight, I went South. Looking towards the still-rising sun, I was surprised to see a small cluster of tethered kite balloons, hanging like great livestock grazing on the clouds. The eerie, silent masses were a disconcerting reminder that my country had been at war for the past two years. However, as I was feeling very good about myself, just having made my first two solos, this only spurred me on. Let me get over to France, I thought, let me have a crack at the Hun! If I'd only known then what an unhealthy outlook this was for a B.E. pilot! Regardless, I thought just that, as I completed my third circuit.

Westwards for the fourth flight - a direction I was to become all-too-familiar with in the future. But, again, I merely enjoyed the sheer elation that, at that point, flying held for me, before touching down again and embarking for my 5th trip around Hounslow Heath. I had taken my first step towards becoming an air fighter, but the war was yet to come for me. As I climbed out of the cockpit of the B.E., Andrews sauntered up to me. "Good work, Campbell. Your third landing was too fast, but the rest seemed good. You'll be doing the same tomorrow, at 8 AM. That's all!". Buzzing from the experience, I thanked him and walked towards the mess, removing my flying gear. Only when I saw myself in the reflection of the mess' windows did I realise that my face was black with exhaust fumes and castor oil stains!






Last edited by Wulfe; 12/01/18 05:05 PM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4451349 - 12/01/18 05:43 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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1 December, 1915
Réserve Générale de 'l'Aviation, Le Bourget/ Dugny

[Linked Image]

- “Suivant! Next!” - The sound came from a very lean man sitting behind a large desk littered with papers, applications and other important looking documents. The man with the surprisingly strong voice was finishing signing another pile of documents and without raising his eyes addressed the man who had just approached his desk as instructed.
- “Et Vous-etes qui, Monsieur?” The lean man reached for another piece of paper and stamped it as if it were a roach about to get away.
- [Who am I?] The man standing in front of the desk reflected upon this straightforward question. [Who am I? I’m a simple man - I like to eat and I like to drink. I’m a baker from Marseille. Born in Avignon but moved to the seaside and settled there. Why there? Because of Violette. Ah, Violette! The loveliest creature under the sun and my wife I might add. I met her there in the summer of 1907, courted her and married her there. It wasn’t easy with her Papa expecting her to marry someone less ... uncouth, but that’s a different story for another time. I am a father to 2 girls - the 6 year old Bernadette and 3 year old Giselle. I love all my 3 girls to death and I can’t wait to see them again soon. The little one is growing up without her father because of this damned war. I am also a soldier. When the mobilization started in 1914 I was recalled to active duty and joined my old unit under the 2e Armee commanded by General de Castelnau. Our orders were to invade Alsace and Lorraine, encircle le Boche, cut them off and win the war, all in one fell swoop. The operation was part of the foolproof Plan XVII, except no one expected the Germans to anticipate this maneuver. It all went to hell and our unit, along with many others, was decimated by the well positioned enemy machine guns and field artillery. German spies had it all figured out long before we set foot on the battlefield. The rest is just a collection of still images of explosions, mutilated and dead bodies, barbed wire and blood. And the smell, the smell of rotting corpses. People, horses, dogs. I was the lucky one. The shell explosion shattered my tibia and fibula. They were going to amputate, but from what I’ve heard someone decided to put them back together and see what happens. It took 6 months to recover and I have a noticeable limp, but I can walk on my own. Thanks to the brilliant yet unknown surgeon. I never found out his name to thank him properly. So, out of the hospital and to a new assignment - kitchen duty in Verdun sector. I did not like that one bit. I was ready to desert after 2 months. Thank God for Violette and her gossiping neighbour - old widow Ponsardin, who learned that there was a great need for pilots and they would accept just about anyone who wanted to learn to fly. That was my ticket out and I sent my application the next day. It took a while and involved an unfortunate incident with the examining doctor in Paris. Dr. Jean Camus’ selection process involved firing a gun behind the unsuspecting test subjects and observing their reaction. If the subject remained calm, he would be accepted. If he flinched, well ... it wouldn’t be the desired result. The poor doctor didn’t count on my reaction to his experiment. My revolver never leaves my side, even during medical examinations. When I heard the gun go off I automatically pulled my MAS 1873 out and aimed it at whoever fired. The doctor fainted at the sight of a barrel aimed at his head. It took half an hour to calm him down and fill out my acceptance form. "Excellent sight and robust constitution" he wrote. "Just needs to lose some weight." I suppose everyone needs a hobby. I was off to Pau within a week for my basic training. I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face after my first run in Bleriot Pingouin. It was the best “automobile” ride ever! Then it was off to Le Crotoy for intermediate training at Caudron factory and training facility and finally here at RGA, just outside of Paris for the final training on the twin-engined G4’s. So who am I? I am a pilot. That is who I am!]
- “I’m Sergeant Gaston Voscadeaux. Reporting for pilot training!”
- “Ah! Another l’aviateur. Bienvenue!”

[Linked Image]

Attached Files Bourget.jpgGaston A Voscadeaux.JPG

"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."
#4451406 - 12/02/18 01:16 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, Black Watch
192nd Infantry Brigade
64th Inf Div ( Home Defense )

1 Dec 1915.

Last Day Walking as an Infantry man. I have been posted to Catterwick for Advanced Flight Training. B ' out time too, sense I paid for my own Flying papers on me own time. Final flights were last week, mine in a box type that barley got up to 100 feet
Sadly, We lost one trainee when he crashed. Now I know why all payments were as U go or in advance of take off.

Attached Files RAF_Bleriot  Trainer.jpgcrashedplanein1915    In a Tree.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 12/02/18 01:22 AM.
#4451434 - 12/02/18 11:03 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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RAF_Louvert Offline
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

Wonderful reading with my morning coffee! Nice to meet Graham, Gaston, and Nigel, I wish them luck and hope we will see them in our ranks for a long time to come. Great photos by the way. And Fullofit, I much appreciate the wider, historical context brought into your background story.

To my fellow: 2nd Lt. Randolph Arvid "Swany" Swanson arrived late yesterday afternoon at Netheravon for his final training. He had time to unpack and get set up in his new digs before the evening meal where he met the rest of the soon-to-be combat pilots. After dinner he went for a walk into town but had to cut it short due to a heavy rain that settled in. No flying for him today because of the weather, so instead he will practice his French in preparation for his visit to the other side of the Channel. Later perhaps he will stop by the maintenance hangars with hopes of getting his hands dirty on some bit of mechanism or another.

Keep the stories coming folks, they are most enjoyable.

Cheers, and à votre santé !
.

#4451444 - 12/02/18 01:32 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Guten Morgen alles, Feldwebel Lofthoven reporting. I had a terrible head injury last year, and have only recently been cleared to fly again. I have now reported to Lindenthal for retraining. This morning had a light rain that kept the other trainees in bed, but I saw it as a great opportunity to take advantage of an available plane. My "Emil" (or is he "Fritz?") Hauptmann Lubcke agreed, and we went up for the first time. I understand why the manual warns to have an observer present, as even with the Hauptman up front, this Aviatik BII is extremely tail heavy and needed considerable forward pressure to keep her nose down and not stall. Surely that much out of trim is a design flaw? Anyhow, we did 5 touch-and-gos to get the feel of her. I had hoped to get a better view of the surrounding area, but the rain prevented that, as we wanted to remain in sight of the field. Ach, plenty of touring time later. It seems we'll also need to make up our own area maps, as Command hasn't seen fit to provide us with any. Perhaps tomorrow?

#4451461 - 12/02/18 03:22 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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CW3SF Offline
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colorado & arizona
I can not do this! It has been over 2 years since the last one, so I guess I will just wait for the next one that is air to air combat.

You all have fun, and I will see you later.


Origin made- silverstone case,ASUS Max VI Extreme , CPU intel Core i7 4770k, cooling asotex 570LC, NVIDA 3G GTX 780 Ti , Mem 16GB Kingston Hyper X DDR3 ,game drive 120GB INTEL X25 SS, OS drive 1TB, Win 7 home Prem.Logitech G105 key board,BenQ XL2430 Gaming Monitor.
All pilots owe me a beer. Retired USAF Rescue/Survival, Special Forces, and MI (after I got old and grey).
#4451498 - 12/02/18 09:46 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, Rfc
Training Aerodrome
Catterick

Dec 2

I managed to get up in the bad weather after being shown the Taps in the Be2. They said be quick so just a circuit then down. I kinda nicked the prop on touch down when bumping up and down. The Instructor said it was a crash, but a good one no damage to the pilot.

Attached Files CFS3 2018-12-02 13-35-44-02.jpg
#4451525 - 12/03/18 03:46 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Raine Online content
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Terrific stories, everyone. As Lou said, this campaign should provide Sunday morning reading for a long time. I'm sorry CW3SF can't join us, though. Dive in any time if you change your mind.

I won't get to fly until tomorrow, but while I'm travelling I thought I'd get my pilot ready to start. Here's his second episode...

An Airman’s Odyssey – by James Arthur Collins


Part Two: In which I meet an American comrade, tame the Jenny, turn a tree fall into a windfall, visit the old country, and learn to fly all over again



The Curtiss School was a $2.30 taxi drive from Union Station in Toronto. Long Branch was a cluster of cottages mixed with a few stately homes along the shore of Lake Ontario some six miles west of downtown Toronto. The field was close by the lake to the south of Lakeshore Boulevard. I left the cab in front of the Long Branch Hotel, a vaguely oriental-looking pile on Beach Road, and found a red cap to carry my two suitcases and trunk into the lobby. Two small signs stood on the registration desk. One bore the schedule of the Rupert, a steamer that sailed six times daily from the hotel’s pier to downtown Toronto. The other stated “Alcoholic beverages strictly forbidden.” I recalled that my truck contained six bottles of Collins Yukon Gold Whiskey.

Once I had checked in, I browsed the newspaper for a place to rent and found a large cottage by the water for $12 a month, so I telephoned the owner and walked there. The place looked fine, although it would have benefitted from a can of paint. We agreed to a lease for two months. I got the key and explored – two good-sized bedrooms, a small kitchen, no gas and – being out of the city – no electricity. I lit a kerosene lamp and sat by the back window as the sun set over the lake. “What in God’s name am I doing here?” I thought. Being unable to answer the question, I returned to the hotel for a mediocre dinner and a fitful sleep.

Many of the veteran students, those who had already flown alone – “solo” was the term of art – were bound for the naval air service and had split their time between Long Branch and the seaplane base at Hanlan’s Point on Toronto Island. I made it clear to Mr. McCurdy, who ran the school, that I intended to fly for the Army and was disinterested in flying boats.

The school contained a wonderful collection of characters. I spent my first day in classroom instruction, learning the basic theory of what we were about to do in the air. Sitting in the back row with me was an American fellow from the mid-west, a rugged-looking farmboy named Swanson. The two of us were both bound for the RFC and chummed together from the start. We’d meet with a few of the other pilot candidates for cards at the cottage in the evenings and it didn’t take long for Swany to move out of the boarding houses where he was staying and move into the cottage. I covered the rent and he cooked. Swany chopped a split firewood for the stove, and I’d never seen anything like it. He was five-foot nine, an inch shorter than me, but the man was made of iron. He could split a day’s worth of wood in a few minutes, having virtually grown up next to his uncle’s sawmill.

We spent the still hours of the early hours around the hangars waiting to get up in the air. For the first few days, we were ferried about like sacks of potatoes by the instructors. One fellow from Toronto quit after being violently ill every time he went up.

One morning, the fellows in the hangar were complaining about a tall pine tree that bordered the field near the entrance road. It stood close by the turn-in and bore the scars of having stopped more than one lorry or wagon. We feared that one of us would soon fly a Jenny into the thing. A tall fellow from British Columbia said that for two dollars he’d take it down, and he claimed he could do it in under five minutes. Swany gave a loud laugh and claimed he could take “that twig” down in less than two minutes. Amid scoffing and jeers, he added “and with no more than 40 blows, as long as I have a good axe.” The British Columbian declared this typical Yankee boasting, adding that you’d expect a professional lumberjack to take nearly five minutes on a tree that size. I whispered to Swany that he should go along with me for a minute and I’d ensure that he’d bear no financial risk.

When the noise began to die down, I told Swany that five bucks said he couldn’t take down the tree, which was 14 to 16 inches thick, in less than two minutes and forty blows.

“It’s Canada versus the States!” I shouted. “Someone take note of the bets.”

Tim Flanagan, one of our students, took out a pocket notebook and a pen. “I have a dollar to say the Yank fails,” he shouted. “Who’s with me?”

In a matter of two or three minutes more than a hundred dollars were in play. “Good,” said Swany. His slight Swedish-American lilt made it sound like go-ood. “Now I need to get a good axe. The tree goes down tomorrow afternoon at four. Bring your money, everybody.”

Swany and I scoured Toronto for a four-pound double-bit felling axe that would meet his standards. We finally found a good one at last at the giant Eaton’s department store on Queen Street. Returning to Long Branch by streetcar, Swany went into a blacksmith’s and worked on sharpening the axe for more than an hour, filing and checking, filing and checking. “It’s all in getting the right angle,” he explained.”
The next day at four, Swany brought his axe to school wrapped in a blanket. At ten to four he wandered over to the tree and waited for the crowd to form. Mr. Jennings, one of the instructors, timed the exercise, and the whole crowd counted the blows. By Swany’s sixth blow of the axe, I was the only one still counting aloud, for the wiry Swede had already opened up a deep vee on the side facing the road. Without a second’s pause, he began to work on the opposite side, cutting an even deeper notch just above the first. One minute in, and the tree began to groan. By the twenty-eighth blow, it sagged, and on the count of thirty-two there was an ear-splitting crack and the tree fell neatly onto the road. We dragged it with one of the Curtiss trucks off the road to be sectioned at leisure. Swany, in the meanwhile, collected the vast sum of $143. Another American, a former cowboy named Mark Jericho, was the only onlooker to bet on Swany, and he did rather nicely too.

I soloed in a little over a week, on the same day as Jericho but a couple of weeks after our cowboy friend. Jericho was the star pupil and left the school before the end of July, bound for England. “Swany” Swanson and I got our AAeC ticket in mid-August, just before our dollar-a-minute time was up. The RFC recruiting office in Toronto arranged our travel and, as two “officer candidates”, two days after graduation and dressed in our best suits (in Swany’s case, his only suit) we boarded a train bound for the east coast. We didn’t use the seats we’d been given, since Swany booked us into first class with his newfound wealth. We dined in luxury while watching the Laurentian Mountains catch the evening sun across the St. Lawrence River as the train passed Quebec City and continued past the long strips of farmland angling down to the river and the little villages, each with its imposing metal-spired church. We had a sleeping cabin with comfortable bunks, nightcaps of Collins’ Yukon Gold whiskey, and in the morning a porter brought us breakfast as we passed Bathurst, New Brunswick and looked out on the broad Gulf of St. Lawrence. We changed trains in Moncton and by evening of the second day were in Saint John, ready to board the SS Scandinavian for England (Swany thought it wonderful they'd named a transport after him). We were glad to be aboard, as Saint John had little to offer except for its Reversing Falls, where the massive tides on the Bay of Fundy make the river run backwards half the day. Personally, I think the river takes one look at the town and turns around.

[Linked Image]
Departing on the Scandinavian

In late September we were sent to the university at Reading, west of London, for our basic classroom training, which involved lessons in navigation, engine construction and maintenance, principles of flight, meteorology, and basic soldiering topics, such as whom to salute and how to march. Marching, or drill, as it should be called, was far more complicated than I ever expected. Poor Swany had a particularly difficult time. Whenever he concentrated too hard he would “bear walk,” swinging his right arm with his right leg and vice-versa. It’s nearly impossible to do if you try, but very easy to do when you’re learning drill. The work was fairly easy and we got leave for a week afterwards. Swany headed for London and I went to Cambridge, where my mother and sister had settled.

The following week we were packed off to Castle Bromwich, near Birmingham, for flight instructions on Farman Longhorns and Shorthorns. Apparently the RFC completely ignored the fact we’d got our ticket in Canada and we were lumped in with chaps who didn’t know one end of a flying machine from the other (not that it made much difference on a Farman. Three candidates were killed while we were there. All three of them fell prey to spins, which were inevitably fatal. Towards the end we got to sport about in Avros, which were absolutely ripping buses.

[Linked Image]
Castle Bromwich aerodrome from the air

Once the course was complete, orders came to head for Netheravon, down in Wiltshire. Here Swany and I would undergo advanced training and finally get a crack at some real war flying in more modern machines.

Attached Files SS Scandinavian.jpgCastle Bromwich.jpg
#4451564 - 12/03/18 12:03 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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RAF_Louvert Offline
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

CW3SF, I'm sorry as well that you won't be joining us. We'll miss you around the mess.


loftyc, nice to see Feldwebel Lofthoven joining the ranks here. I hope his head injury from last year isn't causing him grief, such injuries can linger. As to maps of your current AO, afraid you may be on your own there.


Carrick, props are expensive, best not be nicking any more of them. Hope you managed to secure one of the blades to carve your walking stick from.


Raine, outstanding stuff! A wonderful read with my morning cuppa', (read it twice actually as it was so entertaining). One point: Swany is Norwegian, but then James knows that full well yet seems to take no small amount of delight in calling him a Swede as he knows it gets Swany's Norsk hackles up.


I will be adding an installment here myself, hopefully later today, though it won't involve flying as it's going on three days of wind and mist at Netheravon which has grounded all training flights. However, Swany and James have been discussing the fact that they each need a proper pair of flying boots and have been told by a certain Lieutenant Bishop that Powney's Corner down in Salisbury is the place to find them.

.

#4451571 - 12/03/18 01:08 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Raine Online content
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Raine  Online Content
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Lou, I guess they're all "Swedes" to Jim. I'll have Swany set him right.

Powney's "Old Corner Store"? Someone's reading "Salisbury in the Great War", I'm guessing.

#4451574 - 12/03/18 01:27 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Willi Aaron Rosenstein
Born 1 Dez. 1892, Stuttgart.
Pilots License #170,5
Date of issue 12. August 1912

I was the first born son of Ernst and Pauline Rosenstein, and together with my brother and sister I grew up in Stuttgart. My farther was a partner in the LW Rosenstein Company, a firm that produced medical equipment which they sold world wide. The Company became very profitable and my family lived in relative comfort. My brother and I were sent to boarding schools in Berlin. My farther had decided that I was to become a Doctor, a surgeon preferably.
He had some connections with the Charitè Universitätsmedizin in Berlin and so my whole life was being prearranged and I was to comply with my father's wishes. I suppose he only wanted the best for me, like all fathers, but inside I knew I was meant for something else. I just didn't know what though.

Autumn 1911, I passed the entrance exams, squeaked by more like it, which pleased my father immensely. My fate had been decided. Unfortunately I found myself struggling to keep up with the curriculum. The longer I studied the more I knew this wasn't for me, but duty to my father's wishes forced me to continue. Luckily, Berlin offered many a distraction for restless souls like myself. While sitting in a dubious Establishment one evening, I was reading the local newspaper when I noticed a small add........

[Linked Image]

One should know that Berlin was packed by a new fever called flying. The Johannisthal Flugplatz
was relatively new, and thousands would pay to watch these new God's fly against each other at races put on by the local Flying clubs or schools. I had never been there myself. I was bored and looking for something different, and thus decided to spectate one of these races myself.

One sunny day in March 1912 I took the tram out to Johannisthal. It was filled with so many gay and well dressed people. Everyone was awed by what they saw. All these modern heavier than air craft lined up for all to walk around, and some lucky few were even allowed to mount these wonders under the guidance of their owners. To the left of the lined up aircraft was a row of large sheds, and one of which had the words “Melli Beese” painted in large red letters. I remembered the little add in the paper and wondered over to the shed. A small door was open so I knocked and went inside the shed. Inside was a huge machine that somewhat reminded me of a dove. On it's flanks were painted the big black letters “MB”. A Woman around my age, dressed in dirty overalls, was standing close to the engine when she looked at me. I inquired about the add I had read and if the owner was present to talk to. I said I was very keen to learn flying.

[Linked Image]

After my initial shock, she reassured me that her name was Melli Beese and that she was indeed the owner and Instructor of the school. Later that day, I and a few others who were also interested, joined Melli at the nearby canteen at shed#6 to discuss our future adventure. To cut things short, I had at last found the one thing I wanted to do, and my career as a Pilot began March 1912. The next few months I spent every free hour at Johannisthal, and so neglected my study's that it was only a matter of time before my father would be informed. But I didn't care anymore. I was in love with flying and the engineering that went with it.

[Linked Image]

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1.August was perfect day for flying and this was also when I passed and received my Pilots License #170,5. I now belonged to those golden few. That summer I had great fun, and represented our club at a few races that were held at Johannisthal. In fact I was judged good enough to become an Instructor, and when Melli asked me to work for her.... I said yes of-course.

[Linked Image]


Eventually my father found out what had happened and ordered me home to explain myself. He was infuriated by my selfishness. I was supposed to be a Doctor and not some “Quack” flying around Berlin, squandering my youth on some sports club for the elite! I promised to go back to school and fly on my spare time just to placate my father. All through 1912 till summer 1913 I plied myself to the books and endless lectures, reading till deep into the night just to keep pace with the required literature of the first year. My Grades were still comparatively low and I found myself drifting more and more to the airfield and Melli. At Johannistal I made a great many friends from different aircraft firms like Rumpler, Albatros and Fokker. I even helped Melli with an aircraft patent.

As fate would have it, nothing lasts forever. In the summer of 1913 we had another airshow, and this time we had a fearless stunt pilot from Paris. Adolphe Péguod was in Berlin ! His flying skill was wonderful to say the least. He could figure eight, loop the loop, and his spiral of death caused many a faint heart to stop. I was so impressed by him that I wanted to prove before others that I too could fly like Pèguod. So one evening in August, I asked Melli if I could stunt around with her small monoplane. She looked at me, smiled, and forced me to sign a waiver in case I ended up hurting myself. I signed and went to the aircraft.

[Linked Image]


The monoplane started easily and I took off and climbed to 500m. I started with figure eights while climbing to 1000m. I wanted to start a loop by pushing my nose down but became quite afraid by the sudden speed and noise of the wires and pulled up on the column. To this day no one knows why or how such things happen, but I started to spiral or “spin” as they call it now. I had lost control and the airfield was getting closer real fast. I just panicked and pushed and pulled everything, at the same time too. The monoplane straightened itself up but I was right on top of shed #7 and crashed into it.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself in the hospital. I seem to of broken my left ankle, that has forced me to limp till this day. A suspected spinal injury was also the cause of many a sleepless night as well. To make matters worse, Melli came by to wish me luck and that I shouldn't worry about the Monoplane, but that our working relationship was now ending. I had to go back to Stuttgart, and my father.

Funny how one moment can change your life. I resigned to my fate, took a job in my fathers firm and started an apprenticeship as a fine tool maker...... And then the war started.

Like all young men I jumped to volunteer. My mothers heart was broken, and my father, the socialist, saw no need for me to run off and be slaughtered for some Kaiser. And why not, with a war coming, medical equipment and supplies would be in great demand. But I could not see myself just sitting in a room when a whole generation marched on without me. In Dezember 1914, I was turned down as being medically unfit for service and that I was doing the Kaiser a greater service with the job that I already had.

By mid 1915, after the slaughter of so many men, the Kaiser needed even more of my generation to maim and kill. I applied again. This time I said that I wanted to fly and that I already owned a pilots license. And so, after weeks of waiting, here I am now at the Aviatik Militaer-Fliegerschule in Freiburg.


p.s...Had to cut this story short. After starting it I could see this chapter turning into a whole book!

Last edited by lederhosen; 12/03/18 01:31 PM.

make mistakes and learn from them

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#4451579 - 12/03/18 02:13 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Superb lederhosen, simply superb! Great historical context, great pics, great storytelling. I can't wait for the next installment.

Raine, I had not referenced that book but had actually found out about Powney's while trying to find a good, contemporary photo of the Haunch of Venison. Unfortunately, the Poultry Cross sits directly across the street from the pub and is blocking it out in every shot.

.

#4451600 - 12/03/18 04:00 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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L'Etoile du Nord
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Here is 2nd Lt. Swanson's most recent letter home.


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#4451619 - 12/03/18 05:06 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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lederhosen Offline
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wow


make mistakes and learn from them

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#4451632 - 12/03/18 06:06 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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These are outstanding, guys. I've just had a skim as I'm (technically) working. But when I get to my hotel tonight, I have some really great reading to catch up on. Tomorrow will be my first flight in the campaign, weather permitting. I read that December 1915 was one of the wettest months on record. There was a big wind storm on the 6th, I believe, so perhaps we can work that one into the stories!

#4451665 - 12/03/18 07:48 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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JJJ65 Online cool
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Phantastic bios and stories, Sirs. They really deserve to publish as a WWI biography book.
Thank you.

#4451685 - 12/03/18 09:03 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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lederhosen Offline
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Willi arrives at Flugplatz Freiburg for advanced training. 1.Dez 1915

[Linked Image]

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Last edited by lederhosen; 12/03/18 09:05 PM.

make mistakes and learn from them

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#4451698 - 12/03/18 09:57 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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May I just say, I'm immenseley enjoying everybody's introductory tales, and can hardly wait to see all your characters arrive in France!

I’m hoping this campaign will be a good chance to brush up on my writing skills, which are a bit ropey at the moment - good thing I have the talents here to learn from!



Sgt. Graham A. Campbell.
Hounslow Heath Aerodrome
December 3rd, 1915.

2: Avro.


I awoke at 6 O'Clock in the deep, enthralling blue of the early morning, and manoeuvred my way through the rows of dozing pilot trainees, remaining as silent as I possibly could. I had very quickly found out, on my second morning, that the pilot that wakes the others quickly falls out of favour! Daydreaming of returning to France (I have neglected to mention previously that I was posted earlier in the year in the infantry, but Pneumonia scuppered me before I had managed to get near the war), I found my way to the door of the Barracks and, unlatching it, stepped out to a fantastic scene of early-morning fog, like the great wispy ghost of some immense river rolling over the heath.

[Linked Image]


I was one of the few souls awake and moving on the aerodrome, and so took the time to meander around the hangars, conducting my own personal inspections of each machine. In the hangar nearest the barracks rested the training machines, a pair of B.E.2s and one Avro 504. I marvelled at the intricate construction of these surreal new machines - the criss-crossed flying wires, the elegant slope of the propeller, the wooden spars that stretched upwards like slender arms to hold the upper planes aloft...remarkable! The Avro 504 was also a fine-looking machine, although not nearly as pretty as the B.E in my opinion. Unlike the B.E's, however, the Avro had skids protruding out from the sides of the wheels, like tusks, to prevent the uninitiated pilot from 'nosing over', that is to say, flipping the machine forwards, in the case of a rough landing. In some strange way, I felt proud that I had undergone my first 'solo' without incident, or need for the skids, for only yesterday one of my fellow trainee pilots, a frighteningly young 2nd. Lieutenant named Rowan Turner, had all but buckled the rightmost skid when he came in at slightly too steep an angle to land on his 5th trip around the heath. My, did he receive a roasting from Andrews! That was, of course, before the rain begun to spit down at us, and all further flights were cancelled by Cpt. Andrews for fear of a storm.

I snapped out of my admiration for the B.E, and slunk out of the first hangar. The next hangar along housed several other B.E's, which belonged to No. 15 Squadron R.F.C. I took a peek inside to see a rigger tirelessly inspecting each inch of canvas across the skeleton of the machine. He briefly looked up at me, grunted in acknowledgement, and went back to his work. Pulling my head back out of the entryway, I pulled out my pack of cigarettes, removing one and reaching for my matchbook. The rebellious match I'd chosen struck out the first two times, but the third time the flame held fast, and I inhaled deeply.

Blowing smoke out into the cold air, I strolled over to the third, and final, hangar. I peered inside to examine the machines, and was met with a sight that immediately made me grin with anticipation. Inside the hangar lay an assortment of Vickers”Gunbuses”, and the newer single-seat Bristol Scout machines. With the split of daybreak (the sun had begun to creep over the horizon now, casting the Heath in gold) that flooded in through the crack, I could see the foreboding black shapes of Lewis Guns, white reflections gleaming on their barrels and ammunition drums, and I suddenly fancied that I was already in France, tangling each day with the dreaded Hun!

I had not realised at the time, but these were the machines of No. 24 Squadron, headed by the famous Victoria Cross winner Lanoe Hawker. If only I had realised sooner, it should have been a wealth of invaluable information to speak to him - one of the most experienced pilots in all the R.F.C! Having concluded my inspection, I made back for the mess hall. As I did, I saw two Corporals quietly grumbling to one another while wheeling the Avro out onto the still-wet grass, beads of moisture clinging to the tyres and giving them a brilliant shine. As I passed, I offered an eager 'Good Morning!' to the two Corporals, who nodded in response. "Bloody cold morning..." I thought I heard one mutter to himself. Out ahead of me I saw Lt. Webb, another trainee, practically bound out of the barracks and come jauntily over to me. Webb was another terribly young lad, of only sixteen, and had been paid into our merry band of trainees by his aristocratic father, who had many friends within the British Army, Colonels and the like. Upon telling his father he wished to fly, Webb immediately transferred from school into the training regime. His indefatigable excitement, of course, came from the fact that he was to fly his first solo today.

"Campbell! Fine morning, isn't it?" he asked me, in a chirpy tone. I regarded his face, youthful, feminine, and markedly harmless. I wondered how this young lad was ever supposed to fight a war at his age, but such questions are for the men in the recruiting offices, and not my concern. "Aye, fine morning..." I replied, and Webb beamed, before looking hungrily at the Avro, now left alone by the Corporals to sit patiently on the airfield, awaiting its master. "I'm 'going up' today! Would you believe it!" he continued, still affixed on the Avro. The answer, of course, was that I could believe it, with us being trainee R.F.C. pilots at an aerodrome, but for politeness' sake I shook my head. "No, it's quite something! Good luck!".

Webb was about to press his emphatic offensive when Cpt. Andrews appeared on the field, beckoning the rookie pilot over. "Ah, here I go!" he said, to nobody in particular, and skipped off to answer the Captain's summons. I took the chance to return to the Barracks in order to write my diary. I told the blank pages of the stunning beauty of the early-morning Heath, to the muffled sound of the Avro starting up, before heading to the mess to have my breakfast, eggs and bacon and a bowl of porridge afterwards.

Heartily fed, I headed back outside to watch the young Webb flying his circuit. Shakily he drifted through the sky, and was halfway round the aerodrome when suddenly his engine sputtered, missed, and cut out completely. A deafening silence hung in the air, as I felt a surge of fear for the lad. In my head, I repeated the cardinal rule outlined to me by every instructor I had crossed paths with: "Don't turn back! Glide forwards and look for a good landing spot!". Fortunately, the Heath had several flat, grassy fields for the youngster to put down in, but almost as if to spite my recollection I watched in mute horror as the Avro dipped its Starboard wings and attempted to loop round for the aerodrome. The plane wobbled and shuddered, its nose dropping, and for one agonising second I thought the machine would spin, but it thankfully snapped back into a dive, and came down in a curve towards the airfield. The landing angle wasn't quite right, however, and the skids buckled, jolting the nose of the aircraft into the ground with a sickening force. The undercarriage collapsed upwards with the skids, and the aeroplane lay on its nose with its tail pointed in the air.

[Linked Image]


I watched a truck, loaded with several corporals & medics, assembled in the blink of an eye by Andrews, speeding towards the wreckage and pulling the frail young lad out. To my great relief, he was only dazed with a mild concussion, but he looked so terribly shaken, and as pale as a sheet as he was checked over by the ground crew. From my observation point I heard Andrews roaring enraged questions at the poor boy, before he was promptly whisked away.

Over the next two hours, I quietly replayed the event in my head, shuddering continuously at the thought of the nightmare situation that had played out in my head. In fact, I was so dazed by the occurrence that I didn't notice my own B.E. being wheeled out for my five laps, until Andrews came and fetched me. These five trips round the Heath bore nothing of the excitement I'd felt yesterday. Instead, each shudder, quirk, and gust of wind spelled my doom in a spin. When I'd landed for the fifth time, I was very grateful indeed. My body must have commanded my actions by instinct in the air, for Andrews said that I had done better than yesterday. Amazing, what fear can do for you...


Last edited by Wulfe; 12/03/18 10:57 PM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4451713 - 12/03/18 11:23 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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December 3, 1915

Papers arrived today. Amazing that the RFC bureaucracy actually tracked me to Glasgow on leave. Maybe things at Castle Bromwich have gotten a bit more organized since I left two weeks ago (not likely!). Anyway, it's official ... Second Lieutenant Aleck Allen MacKinlay!

And to top it off, I have been assigned to active duty. Will have to cut short my visit with Mother and Father and head south immediately. Required to appear in France before the end of the month; seems like plenty of time if all goes well. Thanks to Father I have all the kit I need and can head out directly. Will pack up this evening and say my goodbyes in the morning.


http://SimHQ.com/forum/tmp/12558.jpg

Attached Files Glasgow.JPG
#4451736 - 12/04/18 02:13 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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What a great bunch of stories! Wulfe, good description of Graham's first flight in a BE. Fullofit, I really enjoyed Gaston's backstory. That postcard of the gate at RGA Le Bourget was a great touch. Carrick, best of luck with Nigel. Stay out of the trees! Loftyc, good job getting through the touch and gos. Lederhosen, you had me reading up on Melli Beese. Fascinating bit of research and period colour. And I really loved the photo of the takeoff from Freiburg in your second installment. 77Scout, here's tae the wee Glaswegian!

Lou, the hometown paper clipping was an inspired touch, as was the RFC letterhead. Sounds like the boys had a great outing in the rain at Stonehenge and in Salisbury. I'll pick up Jim's story tomorrow night as I forgot to go into workshop settings and "Log all," so I'll be redoing the first flight from Netheravon then.

Have fun everyone. With the work that you've put into your pilots, you'll be genuinely nervous putting them in harm's way once we all get to the front. I just home we get our hours in during December with all the rain that month...

#4451737 - 12/04/18 02:17 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Really great Start up stories everyone.

#4451781 - 12/04/18 12:48 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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L'Etoile du Nord
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Wulfe, another excellent read, most evocative storytelling. You needn't concern yourself about your writing skills as they are not remotely ropey - well done.

Scout, good to see that Aleck's papers came through. He'll beat us all to France!

Raine, thanks, I rather liked the newspaper clipping myself, but then I am biased. Seriously though, I am finding it a fair bit tricky to actually dial back my usual writing style when it comes to these reports. I'd gotten myself so locked into the British mindset with old Arty that I have to stay mindful he doesn't creep back in when I am creating the episodes for Swany. I should actually have a much easier go of it this time as I can use my own voice, more or less, seeing as how I've grown up in Minnesota and have many Norwegian relatives, several of whom live up in Warroad and Roseau.

Speaking of Swany, despite being up late last night he still arose bright and early and was out on the aerodrome shortly after five to see what the weather was looking like. No wind at that point and only a hint of intermittent rain. He is hopeful that come sunrise he will be able to get a flight in on the B.E.2.

Keep the stories coming folks, they are really making my morning coffee that much sweeter.

.

#4451864 - 12/04/18 09:09 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Wow, amazing stories everybody!

My pilot will begin his career in January, so I will post his first entry a bit later this month.


"Upon my word I've had as much excitement on a car as in the air, especially since the R.F.C. have had women drivers."

James McCudden, Five Years in the Royal Flying Corps
#4451881 - 12/04/18 11:12 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Sgt. Graham A. Campbell.
Hounslow Heath Aerodrome
December 4th, 1915.


Last night, after I had returned to the Barracks, several of the trainees had gathered around and were feverishly discussing Webb's Avro crash.

Lt. Weston (whom you may remember was the unfortunate chap who witnessed a mechanic being killed in a prop-spinning accident) called me over excitedly, mentioning to the small gaggle of recruits that I had seen the whole incident firsthand. "Go on, Graham, tell us what happened!" he urged, as the other men seemed to draw a collective anticipating breath. I looked them over, shocked that they should be so curious about a crash when many were yet to fly their first solo, but, I thought it best not to keep my impromptu audience in suspense. "Well, you see, he was doing his first turn around the aerodrome, he'd gotten up in the air with no issue, but about halfway round I heard his engine miss, and the silly bugger tried to turn back. In the blink of an eye he was tipped over on his nose, on the ground". An uncomfortable silence followed my explanation, followed by Weston matter-of-factly blurting out "well, Andrews has told us enough not to turn back, it's the lad's own bloody fault!". It rather seemed to me like he was trying to bolster his own courage; perhaps the crash had left the men shaken after all.

After a short half-hearted discussion about Webb's condition (the poor old Avro got not a single mention!) I was offered to join the men in a game of cards, which I politely declined. By that point in the night, I still hadn't fully recovered from the shock of seeing Webb come down.

Anyway. That was yesterday, and today was a new day. I awoke around 7 O'Clock, feeling surprisingly well-rested, and slowly pulled my uniform on. I was in no spectacular rush to get myself prepared for the day, as I already knew that I was not scheduled to do any flying. Instead, I rather fancied asking Andrews if I could make a quick excursion to London, to experience some of the charms of the Capital. Perhaps even a trip to Hendon aerodrome, to see the wide range of machines they had there! It was at Hendon that I'd seen my first aeroplane fly, which had inspired me to pursue a transfer to the R.F.C.

Once I was ready, I made my way through the bunks and idle pilots towards the door. Curiously, I passed one bunk that had been freshly-made already, and had no kit resting on the floor beside it. I was sure I had seen that bunk occupied when I had arrived! Glancing strangely at the absent bunk, I continued outside and made for my cigarettes. It was only as I was lighting up that I realised, my, that's Webb's bunk! The poor lad must have been scared right off of flying for good. Who could blame him, after all?

As I smoked, I saw two 'pusher' machines coming in to land. At first I thought that they were two of No. 24's Gunbuses, but as they drew closer I could see that they were a new single-seater type that I didn't recognise. The two machines glided in, blipping their engines as they levelled out, and both made beautifully smooth landings. As they taxied towards the hangars, I noticed that each machine had a Lewis gun mounted in the pilots' forward nacelle. Single-seaters with machine-guns!

Unfortunately, I never did manage to get away to London for the day. Instead, I marvelled over the new machines. They belonged to No. 24, and a short chat with one of their pilots revealed that they were called "D.H.2s", and were supposed to be the answer to the Fokker monoplane menace. Gosh, I do hope I'm put in one of those when I get to France!

In the evening I was approached by one other trainee, 2nd. Lt. Jack Fisher. The man had a drunken look about him, red-faced and perpetually smiling. I assumed he would ask me about the Avro Crash, but it came as a pleasant surprise when he asked me in a chirpy, musical voice about my opinion on the B.E.2. I told him, and our chat led elsewhere. I swapped him stories of my time in the Sherwood Foresters, my first initial day in France and my unfortunate case of Pneumonia, and he paid me off in tales of his time as a Concert Pianist, before the war, playing to various Aristocrats, and even Royalty in some cases!

I soon discovered that Fisher and I got along near-instantly, and felt quite good about having formed the makings of my first friendship at Hounslow as I retired for the evening.

Last edited by Wulfe; 12/04/18 11:56 PM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4451892 - 12/05/18 12:30 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Awesome stories everyone. It looks like this challenge kicked it up a few notches. The ideas are just flowing and the excitement is growing, even though we're not even describing combat yet! I'm so impressed.

4 December, 1915
Le Bourget
Sergent Gaston A. Vouscadeaux

Well, the first 2 days were uneventful. All flights were grounded due to rain and strong winds. There was still plenty to do on the ground and the students were kept busy. It also gave me the chance to write a letter to Violette and the kids. Unfortunately, this lull made it possible for me to also finish my weekly wine rations prematurely. The next day, when it came to my turn at the controls, I felt uneasy on an “empty stomach” and the 5 take-offs and landings exercise took more effort and concentration than I expected. The heavy clouds in the sky reflected my disposition. Today the weather remains as foul as yesterday and the second set of take offs and landings triggered the feeling of déjà vu. Despite all this negativity the exercise went smoothly until the fifth and final take-off. Once clear of the aerodrome the rain started to come down in buckets. The visibility was close to null. I’ve managed to make a circuit and lined up for landing when the rain let up and the visibility returned to acceptable levels. I was just about to curse Toutatis and Belenos for playing a trick on me, when a column of army trucks appeared in front of my flight path, right at the edge of the landing field. My eyes grew to the size of saucers and my hands gripped the control column and pulled so hard that I thought I’m going to break it. The bird begun to slowly gain altitude through my sheer will alone and barely cleared the line of trucks before setting down on the wet grass of the aerodrome’s field. I realized I was still holding my breath. I started to giggle. If I had some wine left I would offer it to the gods. It was then that I realized that this flying business isn’t going to be as easy as I thought.

[Linked Image]

Attached Files Shot12-04-18-18-28-36.jpg

"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."
#4451899 - 12/05/18 03:11 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Raine Online content
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Good stuff, Wulfe and Fullofit. You have me looking things up all the time, like refreshing my memory of Toutatis (dim recollection of Asterisk the Gaul swearing "By Toutatis"). Inspired by Lou's latest, here is the third installment of Jim Collins's memoirs. By the way, how is the Caudron? I bet it's fun to fly. I noted that Gaston Caudron died in December 1915, the 4th if I recall. Don't do like him!

An Airman’s Odyssey – by James Arthur Collins

Part Three: In which I am introduced to a Guardsman and a real war pilot, purloin a vehicle, visit a Druid site, and acquire culture, undergarments, and a surfeit of beer.


A tender met Swany and I together with four other novice pilots at the station in Salisbury and drove us to Netheravon. The forty-minute jaunt in the back of the open-topped lorry was spoiled only by the constant rain and cold, but overall we enjoyed the change of scenery. The fields here were open and wide, not unlike Saskatchewan only greener. At length we pulled into a cluster of little white buildings with red tile roofs and faux Tudor facings. It seemed like a fine holiday camp, save the disapproving eye of a sergeant-major who barked his welcome: “Well, well, well. Look at all the fine young sirs with their bleedin’ picnic hampers ready to kill their silly selves and make my hard-working men put their bleedin’ machines back together!”

He said his name was Sergeant-Major Brookings, and he took a roll call and formed us for inspection right on the roadway. A young captain appeared and the sergeant-major snapped off a salute and marched off with guardsman’s precision (we later learned he was seconded to the RFC from the Grenadier Guards). The captain introduced himself as Captain Hampton-Lewis and proceeded to assign us our instructors. We were to get our kit sorted out in our assigned huts and report to the Officers’ Mess to meet them in a half-hour.

Swany and I were assigned to a hut with a fellow named O’Brien who was nearly done his training and was awaiting his coveted wings. The fourth bed in the hut was vacant except for a trunk. Its occupant had crashed on takeoff the previous day and was to be buried that afternoon.

The mess was a nice surprise, a fine two-storey building with comfortable furniture, a piano, several good writing tables with stationery aplenty, a bar, and a lovely warm fire. Major Ganbert, the OC, welcomed us newcomers and I met my instructor, Lieutenant Thomas. He had recently returned from France where he had served with No 1 Squadron since the start of the war. Since Swaney had disappeared with his instructor, I visited the hangars on the field, which was a few hundred yards east of the camp.

The wind was blowing thirty knots and the rain fell in sheets. Flying was out of the question. I plodded back to the mess and caught up with my letter-writing. Swaney appeared shortly after and informed me that most of the pilots here were billeted outside the camp, so it was relatively easy to get permission to leave the area. In fact, he’d already discovered that the OC had access to a fine touring car and he suggested I persuade him to part with it for the afternoon. I thought in highly impertinent to ask, but had the good fortune to see the Major come into the mess for a cup of tea. Not having yet met the adjutant I approached the OC and asked how one could arrange a few hours’ leave from the camp to pick up some tea and incidentals for our hut.

“The Adj is away today, so just go. Besides, if you’re still about this afternoon, you’ll be required to carry a coffin – not good for the spirit, what? If the guard gives you a hard time of it, tell him I cleared it. Do you drive?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Then take my Crossley. You’ll find it beside my office. Be back by nine.”

I returned to Swaney, who had moved his armchair next to the fire. “We’re all set. I have the car.”

Swaney whistled and mouthed the word #%&*$#. “It’s amazing what a little money can do, Jim,” he said.

“It cost me,” I told him. “You owe me dinner.”

We made a fine day of it, driving a few miles south to see the famous stone circle of Stonehenge. We remarked on the massive amount of work the thing required and wondered why on earth it would have been built. I suggested that some Druid version of Sergeant-Major Brookings had found some warriors has misapplied their blue woad and set this thing up as punishment duty.

We headed into Salisbury. We’d caught only glimpse of it this morning and it looked like a fine place. We were not disappointed. We toured the cathedral and saw the Magna Carta. Then Swaney told me that another pilot at the camp had told him of a bootmaker and military provisioner in town and he wanted new boots. The boots were so impressive that I ordered myself a pair as well, plus a fine set of long woolen underwear for flying. Our parcels in hand, we headed next door to a storybook inn called the Haunch of Venison. Since Swaney was paying for dinner, I told him to find a place by the fire and I would get us a couple of pints of good bitter.

[Linked Image]
"Our parcels in hand, we headed next door to a storybook inn called the Haunch of Venison."

Dinner was the finest meal I’d had in England to date, and afterwards the place filled up with some RFC types, including several from 20 Squadron, which was working up on the fine new FE2 two-seaters. More ale was downed while we discussed the merits of different aircraft. The consensus was that the BE2 was unlikely to kill you unless you met the Hun, and then you were dead. The FE2 was superb. The little DH2 pusher scout was lovely to fly until it spun. You couldn’t get out of a spin in one, so you were dead. The Morane was to be avoided at all costs. It would kill you on takeoff, or spin, or kill you on landing. You would be too busy to worry about Hun machines.

I was in no shape so Swaney drove us home. He drove faster than I’d have wanted, but he told me that drunks really shouldn’t be on the road for long so he had to hurry.

The next day it rained again and I took ground instruction on the BE2. Unlike the Farman it has a unified control called a joystick. The training machines were all rather tired and did not give full power, but Mr. Thomas assured me it would be quicker off the mark than anything I’d flown to date.

3 December 1915 dawned drizzly and wet, but the wind had died and Thomas told me I was going up to do circuits and landings. He went over the instructions one last time and I nervously atammered through the starting procedure, waved away the mechanics, and trundled out to the east end of the field. I said a quick prayer and opened the throttle fully. The Renault engine roared and the machine bumped over the wet grass. In a few seconds the bumps stopped and, without my really noticing it, the BE2 climbed easily into the grey sky. It was wonderfully stable. I leaned over to check my height compared to the slight rise and row of trees at the far end of the field. Rain stung my face like needles. I hunched behind the triplex windscreen and adjusted the mixture. At a thousand feet I began a turn to the right. Although the wind was negligible at ground level, at this height it buffeted the machine and I kept the throttle fully open. Coming around to land I throttled back to idle and adjusted the mixture again. The machine skimmed the treetops. Ahead loomed a telephone or telegraph wire. I opened up and staggered over it at the edge of a stall, and then nosed down and throttled back, just skimming over the crest of a low hill by a farm at the east side of the field. I wallowed in and touched down.

[Linked Image]
"In a few seconds the bumps stopped and, without my really noticing it, the BE2 climbed easily into the grey sky."

Thomas stood in the open door of a hangar, smoking his pipe. My machine came to a stop and he signalled to take off again. The second and third circuits were both to the right, each one better than the one before. One of the biggest differences I found between this machine and the old “Rumpety” or Avro was in the bracing. The BE had Royal Aircraft Factory streamlined wires which did not hum and sing like the regular type does. Two circuits to the left followed. On my last landing I touched down mere feet from the near end of the field and rolled up to the hangar, where the Ack Emmas caught the wings and prepared to wheel the machine inside. The driven rain had removed most of the varnish from the propeller. Thomas took out his pipe, spat on the ground, and said “Not bad, Collins. Same again tomorrow.”

The next day we saw the sun for a few minutes and I got in my five circuits again. This time I set myself a goal to land slowly enough that I would not pass a small building halfway down the field. I succeeded on four out of five tries. It was absolutely topping to be flying a true war machine at last!

Attached Files First flight.pngHaunch.jpg
#4451921 - 12/05/18 10:55 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Another fine trio of tales added to the fledgling collection. Wulfe, some people just want all the bloody details when it comes to crashes, I never quite understood why. Fullofit, I am quite green about Gaston getting to fly the Caudron, the lucky buggar. Raine, great stuff, and where did you find that excellent old photo of the pub, it's precisely what I'd been looking for.

Swany did manage to get a circuit in yesterday morning but it was cut short as the engine conked on his B.E.2 when coming in for his fourth touch. But it did give him some practice making a dead stick landing, which he pulled off without incident - thankfully. He's hoping to get his full time in today, provided the weather doesn't have other plans.

Keep 'em coming gents!

.

#4451927 - 12/05/18 11:42 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Lou, somehow I doubt they would use state of the art machines like the G.4 to learn to fly, but hey - they’re French! And I agree, Gaston lucked out.
Raine, I was hoping someone would get the reference from Asterix. I don’t think they still celebrate these older gods. The Caudron is surprisingly agile for something that barely fits into a hangar. Gaston is confident he will be able to keep up with the Eindeckers, but it’s the wine talking. He’s only completed 2 flight training missions after all. The only negative about this bird is the forward visibility. Good thing there is a mitraillieur in front to let him know what’s ahead and, of course, to shoot down the dastardly Boche.


"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."
#4451934 - 12/05/18 12:27 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Having the flown the Caudron in a French career, I can say it's more than capable of defending itself in 1916, and handles pretty nicely too.

Last edited by Hasse; 12/05/18 12:27 PM.

"Upon my word I've had as much excitement on a car as in the air, especially since the R.F.C. have had women drivers."

James McCudden, Five Years in the Royal Flying Corps
#4451936 - 12/05/18 12:47 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Thanks Hasse, that makes Gaston breathe easy. Having flown German career, Aldi Schwarzkopf found Caudrons to be an easy prey. I suppose it all depends on who is at the controls.


"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."
#4452009 - 12/05/18 11:52 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Sgt. Graham A. Campbell.
Hounslow Heath Aerodrome
December 4th, 1915.



Hugo Lane is missing, and one of our training B.E's has vanished with him.

As per Andrews' instruction, he was to fly to Beaulieu, land, and return. However, after three hours of impatient waiting, Andrews finally telephoned the Adjutant's office there, only to find out that Lane (and, more importantly in Andrews eyes, the B.E.2!) had never arrived. The ever-optimistic Fisher reckons he simply had some kind of mechanical failure, and put down en route, and assures us all that Lane will make a reappearance by the end of the night. Weston thinks he's gotten lost, and ended up in some farmer's field. I could believe either of them readily enough!

It is, for now, a mystery. We still have one B.E.2 left, and I am scheduled to go up in it shortly. Andrews wants me to stay up for a full fifteen minutes this time, and complete a wide circuit of the Heath. Although I shall only be up for less than an hour, I am very well braced, for it shall be the longest individual stint I've spent in the air to date! that being said, the weather was markedly less favourable than my first two trips into the sky - there was a fairly strong wind coming in from the South, and above the airfield a large flock of Seagulls circled and cried out. As my father had taught me, seagulls this far in-land meant that a storm was imminent. On the grass outside the barracks sat Weston and I, switching our attention between watching the wheeling birds and scanning the skies for a sign of either of our B.E.2s. By the way - our remaining accounted-for machine, in which I was scheduled to fly, was currently up somewhere in the air nearby, being flown by 2nd. Lt. Freddy Foster, our resident Kiwi.

Freddy was, by no doubt, one of the most interesting chaps in the trainee's barracks. Allow me to explain. Not only had Freddy been a relatively well-known Boxing champion in Nelson, a town on the Northern coast of New Zealand, but he had also landed with the ANZACs on Galipoli, as a Sergeant, in May. Only four days after the landing at Helles, he was twice wounded, in the left knee and hip, by machine-gun fire, which led to him having a severe limp. He was invalided back to New Zealand soon after, but, refusing to let his injuries deprive him of serving the Empire, travelled to England, and the Flying Corps, to continue his war on grounds that accommodated his debilities.

His image seemed to match his history. Cresting sharply-defined cheekbones and a squared-off jawline, his slightly curling dark hair was cut in a practical short back-and-sides, combined with a thick moustache, parted in the middle, curling upwards and away from the corners of his mouth, gave him an impossibly stern appearance. Above his curling moustache and slightly-flattened nose sat two piercing blue eyes, which seemed to stare through you as you spoke. In fact, they seemed to stare through the landscape, into some deeply hidden memory.

[Linked Image]
Sgt. Freddy Foster,

Naturally, we all expected this dangerous-looking Colonial to throw his weight around from the onset, and bully us all around. Imagine our surprise when we discovered that, in actuality, Freddy was as delightful as you'd like, a real top fellow! He'd always offer his own time on the B.E. to the pupils in need of extra flight hours, and was always first to help out a fellow in need. On top of that, he had a wicked humour, and would often do an impression of Cpt. Andrews in the evening that would have us rolling in fits of laughter! 'The Hounslow Hellhound', he called the act. It was only after we had learned of Freddy's true nature that we begun to notice, hidden behind the battered boxer's features, the laugh-lines around his eyes and mouth. We simply could not fathom that a seemingly born-fighter would be so jovial!

Anyway, I don't mean to ramble on. By any means, here came Freddy now, elegantly touching down in our remaining B.E, before taxiing to face West again and dismounting the machine. From underneath his scarf and helmet appeared his beaming face, red with cold, and he shouted across the airfield to me "She's all yours, mate! Ethan's got her running like a dream!". Cpl. Ethan Knight was the engine fitter for our B.E's, and took the care of our machines very personally.

I smiled back, and thanked him from afar, as I pulled my own flying coat on. I made for the B.E, but was intercepted by Andrews, who had yet again appeared from thin-air as I've known only R.F.C instructors to do. "Campbell. Fifteen minutes' flying around the area. Don't take her above 3,000 feet, and remember! If your engine misses, don't you dare turn back!". I nodded solemnly, but the memory of Wyatt's close call was all the reminding I needed. I clambered into the B.E, as one of the mechanics jogged over to my nose, grabbing the prop and beginning to twist it. "Switch on!" came the call. I fingered the magnetos upwards, and repeated the phrase. In response, the mechanic cried "Contact!", and I was instantly wrapped in the pleasant vibrations of the engine.

Once the mechanic and the Captain had stepped clear, I confidently pushed the throttle lever forwards, and the machine answered eagerly, and in a few seconds we were airborne. At first I was slightly un-nerved by the way the wind was buffeting me about, but I had soon eased to the sensation and was enjoying the thrilling roar of the wind as I climbed, banking gently North, towards London. I followed the great winding Thames river until I reached the Capital. Of course, I had visited London twice before, but from this elevated point I was amazed by the size of the city. By the time I was crossing over the top of Hendon, I had reached 2,000 feet. Below me, I watched in delight as an Avro stunted close to the ground. Peering over the side of my cockpit, I almost forgot that I was piloting a machine myself, but this was soon made apparent to me again as a particularly harsh gust of wind knocked me almost onto my side! Alarmed, I righted the machine and vowed not to shun her again.

Although I was thoroughly enjoying my view from the edge of London, I had to make sure that I didn't lose sight of the aerodrome, as I had no map, and so I turned the B.E. South, crossing on the other side of the Heath towards Esher, and the stunning lakes beyond them. Feeling exhilarated, I almost considered stunting over the water, but I feared that the omnipresent Andrews may catch me! The thought of the Captain reminded me that I was to be back in fifteen minutes, and I had been up for just over twelve now. Reluctantly, I came back down (having reached 2,800 ft in total) and turned back for Hounslow.

When I arrived, Lane had returned with his own B.E. As Weston had predicted, he'd gotten himself lost on the trip. Incidentally, this led to Weston winning a wager with Fisher. It also led to an almighty chewing-out of Lane by Cpt. Andrews!






Last edited by Wulfe; 12/05/18 11:53 PM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4452015 - 12/06/18 12:29 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Wulfe,

Now THAT was an immersive episode. Very nicely done!

#4452023 - 12/06/18 02:41 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
Catterick AF
Air Training

3 Dec 1915.

Wet, Slushiness and generally bad weather. Stayed inside after helping the Riggers had all Flying machines covered.

Attached Files Early_B.E.2c.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 12/06/18 02:46 AM.
#4452045 - 12/06/18 07:05 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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2nd Lt. Aleck A. MacKinlay

December 4, 1915:
Was not able to get train tickets on short notice so ended up staying in Glasgow an extra day. Worked out marvelously as I was able to head over to the University and see some of my Profs and classmates and say farewell. Father is still a bit upset that I won't be finishing my final year of engineering, but he has mostly come around and now actually seems proud to see me doing my part for the war. Funny, I really have the old man to thank for my wings; if he hadn't been working with Richard Barnwell at the Clyde Shipworks I never would have had a chance to get in touch with his son Harold Barnwell. What luck to have Harold usher me right into the Vickers Flying School this summer. Thank God for 'connections' or I would likely be heading off to some muddy trench rather than a pilot's barricks (they will have barricks I hope, not bloody tents).

December 5, 1915:
Said my farewells to Mother and Father this morning. Mother was quite upset. I hate these emotional goodbyes and tried to assure her I would keep myself safe and be back home before she knows it. Father even seemed a bit teary, which shocked me a bit. Never seen that from him before. Got a cab to Glasgow Central Station, and had a gloomy cold train trip along the West Coast Main Line to Birmingham. The weather was dreadful and wet but the trip was uneventful. I could have made it to London in a day but decided to stop off and see the lads at No. 5 Training Squadron; I have a few days to spare. Was able to hop a ride on an army lorrie that was heading east and arrived at Castle Bromwich in time for evening mess. Even though I have only left two weeks ago, there are lots of new faces. I wonder if the new sods have figured out yet that half the instructors at good old 'Number 5' don't know their arse from a cylinder bore. Oh well, I made it through alive, so I guess most of the others will too. Had drinks and good cheer with several of the lads; Squiffy, Nelson, Harrison, that bunch.

December 6, 1915:
After a rather bad sleep on a spare cot, I had breakfast with the lads, then caught a car ride back into Birmingham. Soon back on the train towards London and within a few hours I was milling about with a huge crowd in the Great Hall at Euston Station. Have made arrangements to stay with Aunty Glenise at her townhouse in West Kensington for a few days while I sort out my transport to France. I would have walked there had it been nicer weather (not too far from the station), but it was raining like the devil so splurged on a cab. Aunty was thrilled to see me, making quite a fuss over my new uniform, and had a splendid hot meal and tea for me in short order. Happy to settle into a proper bed again in her spare room.

http://SimHQ.com/forum/tmp/12607.jpg
Euston Station

Attached Files Euston station.jpg
#4452056 - 12/06/18 09:03 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Thanks, Raine! Glad you enjoyed it!

Sgr. Graham A. Campbell
Hounslow Aerodrome
6 December


We were all jolted out of our sleep this morning by a terrific thunderclap right over the top of the Barracks. We blearily looked around at each other, all half-sat up in our bunks, through the low visibility of morning. Listening to the wind howling through the building, and the rain savagely beating at the roof, I watched in amazement as Freddy, three bunks forwards of mines, promptly laughed, lay back down and went to sleep again. There were several more thunderclaps, but the stubborn Kiwi refused to be roused by them. I suppose that he was somewhat used to sleeping through such a percussive din.

About half-an-hour after we had all finally fallen out of our bunks (again, except for Freddy), the door swung open with an almighty crash, to reveal a drenched Corporal who regarded us all with a hateful eye. "By order of Cpt. Instructor Andrews, there shall be no flying today". He bawled. "Whyever not?" Weston called back, and we all chuckled. The dripping Corporal growled under his breath, and promptly stepped backwards out into the storm, hunching himself over in a vain attempt to keep from becoming further drenched, and the door swung shut once more.

A few of the more resilient lads decided to try and get a hold of a car to take a trip into London, but the majority of us were content to laze around the Barracks, writing letters home, playing cards, and otherwise keeping ourselves entertained. The day seemed to drag on at a snail's pace, with the constant howl of the wind and beating of the rain slowly fading into the background of our conscious thought. When we reluctantly headed to the mess, all of us at once, a small group of pilots, including Weston, had the barmy notion of throwing a bedsheet over their heads to keep dry. I only feel sorry for the chap who will have no sheets to sleep under tonight!

We had again the breakfast of Bacon and Eggs, which in all honesty had become somewhat tiresome, and decided to stay put in the mess rather than braving the weather once more to return to our quarters. Outside the window I could see that the seagulls were gone, having issued their warning the day before. As I looked up into the dull sky, a flash of white caught my eye on the airfield and, looking down, I was amazed to see a B.E, tilted on one wing, sliding along the aerodrome with two mechanics in tow, before finally tilting completely on to its back! Desperately the two mechanics fought to tether the rogue machine down, and I (now joined by several others) cheered them on from our vantage point, finding the whole spectacle to be incredibly amusing. To nobody's surprise, before long Freddy's shape appeared on the field, bounding over to help the two poor mechanics, and with his help they had soon tethered down the waterlogged aeroplane.

The rest of the day past just as slowly as the first half had done, and we soon became bored with our newspapers, cards, and unsavoury stories about encounters with young ladies back home. When it was finally time to turn in for the night, we all crowded out of the safety of the mess, being blasted one last time by the storm, before gratefully sinking down to sleep, to put this most boring day behind us. Some of the bunks were still empty, and so I assumed that our pals had made it out to London after all, and were currently still in the middle of a binge.

Last edited by Wulfe; 12/06/18 09:04 AM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4452086 - 12/06/18 02:02 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

This is great, my morning coffee time just keeps getting better!

Wulfe, more excellent storytelling. As noted by Raine, very immersive stuff.

Scout, well done. I do hope Aleck will take advantage of his time in London, especially during the holiday season.

Carrick, bad weather has been the curse for a lot of folks here. Hopefully Nigel will get some flying in today.

.

#4452088 - 12/06/18 02:10 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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L'Etoile du Nord
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December 6th, 1915
Netheravon, Wilts.

2nd Lt. Swanson was an early riser, the chores given him while growing up on the family farm along the Minnesota-Canada border had seen to that, despite what his personal preference concerning sleep schedules may have been. It was habit now, and one he had come to appreciate. He dressed quietly but quickly and slipped out of the hut without waking Collins or O’Brien. Heavy dew embraced the grass and trees but the air was clear. A rosy glow illuminated the eastern horizon and lit up the underside of the low wispy clouds that dotted the sky. And there was no wind, at least not at the moment. It would soon prove itself to be a wonderful morning for flying. For now though, Swany simply enjoyed having this quiet time as his own.

He walked towards the flying field, removing his maternity tunic as he did so, and as he passed the camp flagpole he hung it on the halyard cleat. He rolled up the sleeves of his Greyback shirt and began to jog, out along the edge of the field, upwind, past the collection of small hangars and sheds that stood there. He made the first turn and continued across the near end of the field, he could already feel the dew soaking into his stockings along the top edge of his shoes and was wishing he'd gone to the trouble of doing up his puttees. No matter, the exercise felt good and he needed it, truth be told he craved it. Years of strenuous physical labor and activity made it so.

He undid his collar button as he rounded the second turn and continued along the far edge of the field. The sun was just about to crest and the trees and buildings began casting long, murky shadows. They reminded Swany of certain early mornings back home when he would be out tending to the cows – or hunting ducks and geese, crouched in a stand of reeds, shotgun at the ready – or having a cup of coffee with his uncle as they prepared for a day of tree felling or milling – or out checking the traplines, hoping for some good pelts that would add more coins to his flying fund. Always busy, always something to be done.

The downwind end of the field had been reached and Swany made the third turn. A sliver of sun now blazed on the horizon. It was a marvelous sight after so many days of rain and gloom. He hoped it would last and allow him and his fellow pilots-in-training a chance at some extended flying. For as far back as he could recall he loved being up above the ground, and began climbing trees at an age far younger than approved of by his parents. He had no fear of heights whatsoever and when Swany turned fifteen his uncle took advantage of this fact by sending him up to top off and limb pine trees before they were felled. The young man adored the task as it gave him the view of the world he craved – the view from above. Kakaygeesick, the chief of the local Chippewa tribe that, for centuries, had inhabited the land which Swany’s family now called home, once told him that he had likely been a bird at one time and that this was why he was always longing to get up into the sky. When the elder heard that Swany would be going off to fly aeroplanes he smiled and said, “animwewebizo”, which was to mean, “he flies away with noise”. Soon others in the tribe, upon seeing Swany in town or along the road, began calling out the same thing. It made him laugh just thinking about it.

The final turn had been reached and the young man covered the last leg of the circuit at a sprint, past the line of large hangars at that end of the field, and back towards the flag pole. He could hear the mechanics getting buses ready in anticipation of the upcoming flights. Upon reaching the pole Swany stood there, breathing deeply, hands on hips, stockings soaked through, and perspiration wet on his brow. He should have been chilled to the bone given the temperature of the early morning air and his lack of tunic, but instead he felt invigorated and warm. Suddenly a voice came from behind him, stating in a matter-of-fact tone, “I can’t decide if you’ll outlive us all or die young from pneumonia.”

Swany spun around. “Jim! What a beautiful morning, huh? I bet we get some real flying time today.”

“I’ll take that bet, but first I need something warm to drink and a bite to eat. You coming?”, 2nd Lt. Collins cheerily replied.

“Be along in a minute, have to change into some dry socks, grab my puttees, and wash my face.”

The two headed off in different directions, but would soon be sharing a quick breakfast and, with a bit of luck, a good day of flying.


.

#4452153 - 12/06/18 09:03 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
Catterick AF
Air Training


4 Dec 1915

Finally off the ground. I was told to do circuit s after a battle climb to 1,000 ft. Bit Nerve racking had a hard time finding the Aerodrome not mention which way the wind was blowing. I say its was fun moving along at 70 miles an hour. By George even more so slanting down at nearly 100 mph. 2 nd flight just touch and go.s for a few, I guess to see if I could come down slower the a Rock.

Attached Files CFS3 2018-12-06 12-50-49-44.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 12/06/18 09:11 PM.
#4452198 - 12/07/18 01:59 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Raine Online content
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77_Scout -- great start. Hope you get a good safe start despite the bad weather in December. Fullofit, don't forget you're in the final, working-up phase of training and the RGA serves as a pilot depot, so flying a G4 is not out of the question (although you'd likely spend more time on a G3 first so you could kill only yourself if so inclined). Lou, great story! I haven't caught up to 6 December yet because I'm on the road again. But the following story brings me up to date with my flights so far...

An Airman’s Odyssey – by James Arthur Collins
Part Four: In which I become overly confident, come close to disaster, and get brought down to earth again.


4 December was the first half-decent weather since our arrival. Although the sky was hazy, patches of sun broke through from time to time and the long stocking-like wind indicator, which Mr. Thomas called an FL for no reason I understood, hung limp on the pole beside the hangars.

“Show me five circuits, just like yesterday,” Thomas said. Drop in as close to the near end of the field as you can, come to a stop, and wait for my signal before taking off again.” It was a simple task. The BE2 was a lovely docile old cow and I was feeling rather competent. The whole task was done in less than a half-hour. By now, I was getting a bit cocky and was stalling the machine within feet of the high grass at the edge of the field so that the wheels and tail touched down at the same time. After the last circuit, I taxied up to the hangar, shut down, and thanked the sergeant mechanic who cheerily complimented the landings. All in all, I was feeling very full of myself.

An afternoon of lectures on technical subjects followed, one of which was splendidly taught and the other two of which were unintelligible due to the impediments affecting the instructor. A fellow pilot suggested the man was made a lecturer because he couldn’t cook soup.

Rain returned the next day, but it was judged flyable. I was to take the machine higher, do a circuit, land, and then take a very wide hour-long circuit of the surrounding area. I’d never flown in winds as strong as we had this day, and on take-off I found that it required full rudder to prevent the machine from turning downwind on the ground, followed by a bank into the wind upon leaving the ground. As I climbed to the west, the gusts repeated threatened to cause a stall. It took more that ten minutes to reach four thousand feet. I’d intended to circle to the south and look for Stonehenge, but I was too busy watching the angle of the nose to be concerned with the terrain below.

Cutting the circuit a bit short, I throttled back and angled down to the east side of the field. By now it was becoming routine: over the copse, over the telephone wires, over the hill, and a quick drop down to the field. But this time the gusts forced me to fly the machine down rather than ease it. Once the crest of the hill passed beneath, I cut the engine fully and let the aircraft settle. Suddenly, a gust hit me from the south and west and the machine swerved and climbed to the right, shuddered, and hung on the edge of a stall. I opened the throttle fully. The engine hesitated. I cursed, realising I had failed to enrich the mixture and quickly made the adjustment. Like a child’s kite, the BE bobbed in the air, making no headway relative to the ground. And just ahead lay the line of hangars and three machines that were staked down and surrounded by Ack Emmas! I’d swerved off the field. Full rudder now and nose down. The machine hit the ground and bounced. I throttled back and let it slow, swerving to the right to straighten out the landing. As soon as the speed dropped, I pulled the stick back into my stomach and prayed the skid would soon dig in.

I looked over and saw Thomas, pipe in teeth, making the sign of the cross. He gave me a thumbs up signal and pointed at the far end of the field. I opened up again and headed back into the grey sky and freezing wing. This time I turned north and made a wide circle north to Pewsey, east to Andover, and south to Salisbury. I was to stay up at least an hour at six thousand. The cold cut through more than I’d ever seen. I had on the new underwear, but I now wished I’d bought one of the knit spencers I’d seen at the kit store in town. The minutes passed with agonising slowness. With less than ten minutes to go I was turning north over the fringes of Salisbury and was down to 2500 feet when a loud bang startled me and the engine began to sound like dozen steam hammers in a closed shop. Something looked odd up front. After a few seconds I saw that second nearest of the right-hand bank of cylinder was not quite right. The cylinder head was bent upward like a cap on a stovepipe and obviously at least two and likely three of the long bolts had sheared. I switched off and began looking for a place to put down – something I should have been doing all along. The fields were crossed with fences or stone dykes or dotted with trees. The road leading north from Salisbury, the one we’d driven along in the OC’s Crossley, was flanked by trees or wires. I was down to one thousand feet and quickly running out of time.

I saw to the west a wide, empty road and turned towards it, but immediately realised that he wind would prevent me reaching it safely. There was no time left, so I turned north again and headed for a green field. The grass looked higher than I’d have liked and there was a line of tall trees at its near edge. It was touch and go.

The line of trees passed inches below my wheels and the BE flopped into the grass. With the stick pulled back the tail stayed down and it slowed quickly. A fence loomed up but I stopped well short. Relief came like a warm bath. Rain pattered on the planes and I inhaled the smell of wet earth and vegetation. It was several minutes before I climbed down. The tree row I’d glided over was surprisingly close, but at least it sheltered the machine from the wind. There were some soldiers on the road to the east. I headed towards them to recruit a guard while I found somewhere to phone the airfield camp.

A tender and recovery team arrived a few hours later. The field was too small to fly out of, so they had to dismantle the machine and truck it back. I walked to the road and began to plod north. After about a half-hour, another tender picked me up, and I got back just in time for tea. I found a letter from Dorothy and Mummy and another from Mr. McCready. According to McCready, more communities in Ontario were going dry, and the was increasing political support for complete prohibition and the Hearst government was likely to pass a temperance act. He recommended that we develop a brand of “medicinal” whiskey to avoid a disaster. I wrote to him that the brand need not be substantially different in formulation from Collins Yukon Gold. A new label might suffice. I added that it might be possible to set up a US distribution company in Buffalo, as production for the export market may be allowed.

#4452273 - 12/07/18 04:39 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Good stories all

#4452304 - 12/07/18 08:04 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
Catterick AF
Air Training


Dec 5th, was up twice as the weather was closing in looks like heavy rain. 1st was circuits and touch and go's. Then up for 22 mins and stalled. I was trying to climb to 3000ft but the wind was blowing hard and I stalled out. I was pushed into a wing over going the other direction. Frightful experience. I stayed in the air another 40 min fighting the wind and light rain looking for the Aero park, Finally able to get down. Maybe being in the Infantry wasn't so bad after all ?

Dec 6, Rain.

Last edited by carrick58; 12/07/18 08:08 PM.
#4452320 - 12/07/18 09:51 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Robert_Wiggins Offline
BWOC Survivor!...So Far!!
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Yes some good stories here and that last one Raine was very immersive. Some great period terminology and phrasing made me feel I was actually reading a diary.

Best Regards


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#4452343 - 12/08/18 12:29 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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Looks like everyone is battling the weather. Raine, that last entry made me sweat!

5-6 December, 1915
Le Bourget
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

“Fly some circuits near the aerodrome at 1000 m. Land and do it all over again at 2000 m for 1 to 2 hours.” they said. “Simple enough!” Gaston was in a good mood. The bottle of red wine he procured last night had something to do with it. There were no clear signs of weather improvement in the skies above. The heavy rain clouds would be Gaston’s companions for the next few flights, it would seem. The Caudron was prepared and waiting for him ready for the next test. He strapped himself in. Engine 2 RPMs were a tad lower than #1 but nothing to be concerned about. The large biplane had no issues climbing up to 1000 m despite the reports of strong winds. Gaston circled the aerodrome for 15 minutes and started his descent for the first landing. Everything went smoothly and now he was climbing back again, this time up to the prescribed 2000 m altitude. Once he reached 1800 m the machine refused to climb any higher. It was as if the plane was anchored to the ground. Gaston reduced the incline angle nearly to zero to see if that would help. The lumbering crate started to slowly gain altitude. Finally, when the 2000 mark was reached Gaston found himself rather fatigued from fighting the wind gusts and with great pleasure and relief started his descent and landing procedure.
The next day the circling exercise had to be repeated but with a climb up to 3000 m! Why would anyone ever need to fly this high? The cloud cover was much lower today, so it was certain Gaston would have to navigate between these fluffy giants. Thankfully the wind wasn’t a factor today and Gaston was able to reach altitude without too much trouble. Trouble started when he had to fly above the clouds and the aerodrome was hidden from view for some time. Nothing looked familiar when he was able to glimpse parts of the ground through the gaps. He finally decided to drop beneath the clouds to get his bearings. The clouds were as low as 1600 m and with him having to drop below them, it was a significant departure. He was afraid the instructors would make him do the entire exercise again. He climbed again after recognizing some features. Paris is to the south of the aerodrome. He could see the sprawling city far in the distance. That was as much direction as he would need. Back in the clouds to complete the full hour before coming back for a landing. Once the time was up he dropped below the clouds once more to line up for a landing. He looked around. The aerodrome was nowhere to be found. Paris was nowhere in sight. “Zut alors!” Gaston was lost. When looking at the map he remembered there was a forest north of the aerodrome. He was flying over one right now. Was this the forest he remembered from the map? Only one way to find out. He pointed the nose of the aircraft south and waited. And waited. Finally! There it was - outskirts of Paris, just ahead. Gaston breathed a sigh of relief. He found his way back! From there on it was easy to locate the field. He landed at once and promised himself to carry a map with himself on every flight. No matter how insignificant. And with the next lesson being a cross country dash it only made sense.

[Linked Image]

Attached Files IMG_0975.JPG

"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."
#4452349 - 12/08/18 01:25 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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MFair Offline
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Gents,
I dare say you all have raised the bar a considerable height! I just caught up with everyone’s pilot and to say I am impressed with the stories is an understatement. Fantastic!

As I am currently busy with my full time job of retirement, I will be joining you in France in January. This country boy will have a hard time keeping up with you folks.


Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end.
BOC Member since....I can't remember!
#4452377 - 12/08/18 10:11 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Hasse Offline
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The bar has been set so high that it feels almost intimidating to post anything here among all the DID Hemingways. biggrin


"Upon my word I've had as much excitement on a car as in the air, especially since the R.F.C. have had women drivers."

James McCudden, Five Years in the Royal Flying Corps
#4452386 - 12/08/18 01:41 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

Hasse, in my case it's spelled "Hemingweigh", what with the winter pounds I've put on these last couple of months. Also, and this applies to you as well Mark, neither of you has ever had a problem holding your own when it comes to writing.

Fullofit, I feel Gaston's pain as concerns getting lost, been there more times in this sim than I care to think about, and with or without maps too. Nice old photo by the way.

Robert, I hope we'll be seeing an entry from your pilot soon.

Carrick, good to see that Nigel has been managing at least some flying time despite the poor weather. That wind has been something, my pilot was nearly standing still in the air on one of his last flights as he pushed against the wind with a B.E.2. Despite full throttle his forward air speed was barely above stall speed. Unnerving, a bit.

Raine, very glad Jim was able to bring his bus down unscathed in that dead stick landing. Any landing you can walk away from, eh what. As for the medicinal qualities of Collins Yukon Gold Whiskey, I don't think there is any doubt of those.

Great stuff as always gents, most enjoyable.

.


#4452406 - 12/08/18 03:05 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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I consider myself Lemmingway - following in the footsteps of the greats but too insignificant on my own.
Lou, I have a feeling navigation is going to be Gaston’s undoing. Despite some recent posts that cheating is ok, I’m going the other way. No TAC, no autopilot, no inflight map (paper only - shaking it vigorously to simulate wind buffeting). All a first for me. The challenge for me (or fun), will be to get to the right location as much as the ability to run away from the enemy.


"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."
#4452447 - 12/08/18 09:11 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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MFair Offline
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Mark Anthony Jericho
December, 1915

Jericho stepped out of the Lorry at his new home at Netheravon. It was a long way from Tupelo Mississippi in the United States. "Circumstances." That had been Jericho's reply to the question whenever he was asked. Tupelo, Texas, Canada and now to this place in England. At 23 he was a bit older than most of the young men in his classes. He did not look it though. In fact, he looked no older than anyone else in the crowd. He was not particularly tall at 5'-11'' but after 5 years as a cowhand in Texas he was as agile as a cat and almost as quick. His calm demeanor and quiet way belayed a quick temper that was just below the surface.

As he pulled the collar of his coat around his neck from the chill of the English winter he heard someone call his name. As he turned around he saw his old acquaintance's from Long Branch, James Collins and Swany Swanson.

"I thought you would be in France by now? Where have you been." James asked him.

As Jericho shook their hands he replied. "Good to see you fellows. Well, it seems my papers got crossed up and found myself at a place called Upavon. Worst bunch of would be airmen you ever saw. It didn't take them long to run short of machines as they were all the time busting them up."

"So what are you doing here?" Swany asked in his northern accent that Jericho still could not beleive was American.

"Well, the Captain and I there got along peach as he was a horseman. He and I talked horses as much as was allowed so he made a deal with me. He said that since it would be a while until enough machines would be available to get along with our training he would send me here to complete my training so as not to hold me up. As long as I didn't mess things up and make him look bad that is. I thought that was awful good of the Captain". "Can you tell me who I need to check in with?" he asked.

"That would be Sergeant-Major Brookings, he's standing there." Swany replied as he pointed to the man.

"Thank you Swany" Jericho replied as he lifted his kit. "I'll see you gentlemen later" and with that Jericho walked off to see the Sergeant-Major.

Swany and Jim stood looking at Jericho walk away when Jim said, "I would not have thought it possible."

"What? That he is here at Nerheravon?" Swany asked.

"No" replied Jim. "that he could talk that much!" They both laughed as they headed to the next class.


Last edited by MFair; 12/08/18 09:25 PM. Reason: Spelling

Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end.
BOC Member since....I can't remember!
#4452459 - 12/08/18 10:57 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Raine Online content
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Nice opening, MFair! I'm looking forward to this.

#4452464 - 12/08/18 11:48 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Great stories everyone. I have been much enjoying reading them on my work breaks.

Here is the opening installment of my pilot's story. William Arthur George Stanley is ready to take to the skies.

I had a bit of trouble getting him started. For some reason, a pilot in 16 squadron cannot fly in early December without causing a DLL crash. I reinstalled WOFF before I worked out it was that specific. Stanley is flying in game on the earliest available day where he can fly, the 21st of December. But I am considering his progress to be at roughly the same pace as everyone else's.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

[Linked Image]

The barking of the training sergeant carried far over the racecourse in the cold damp air. The wooden collisades of the grand stand stood empty, but men in khaki marched up and down the course, trampling the turf into a muddy mess. Here and there, men undergoing instruction in various aspects of military life huddled in groups against the cold. Between the road and the stands, in sheds and stables that had until recently supported the sport of kings, men became accustomed to the mechanisms of modern war.

 In one of the administration offices, William Stanley reported for duty.

 Captain Anne looked up and smiled at the student pilot that had been brought before his desk by a helpful orderly.
"Ah, welcome to Doncaster second..." the adjutant peered at the officer's buttons, "lieutenant. Household Cavalry I see?"
"Yes sir," Stanley replied, "the Blues."
"Good! Good balance is what is needed in an aeroplane, and a cavalry officer is well practised in that function. You shan't be expected to bed down in a stable here. Officers are billeted in the big house opposite the main entrance.  You can't miss it.  Happily the mess is there as well."

The adjutant consulted a list and scribbled a note, which he handed to Stanley. "This is your room. Report to 'C' shed on the aerodrome at 0800 hours dressed to fly."



[Linked Image]

The next morning found Stanley waiting in front of a wooden hangar with a dozen other pilots. Like Stanley's, their wings were freshly stitched onto their tunics. One or two wore their yellow flying coats open to display the magical badge. It was shortly before dawn that Stanley arrived on the aerodrome and the weather had been deemed good enough by Captain Moller, one of the instructors.

[Linked Image]

15 (reserve) squadron had a few of the shorthorns that Stanley had soloed on, not three weeks before. The majority of the aeroplanes were a tractor type biplane called an Armstrong Whitworth FK3. It was an attempt at improving on the Royal Aircraft Factory's BE2, but had turned out so similar that most people would have assumed that they were looking at two aircraft of the same type. There were a few BE2s as well, and it was in one of these that Captain Moller took Stanley up.

"Nothing fancy," Moller had told his pupil before climbing into the cockpit. "Take off, make a circuit to the north. Don't fly over the town. I don't want you having an engine failure and making an unannounced visit to some poor lady's garden. Take us up to one thousand feet and make a good descent and landing. You've got your wings, so show me that you deserve them."


The BE2 climbed far more quickly than the gentle shorthorns that Stanley had been flying. As the hangars on his left dropped away, Stanley saw the pointed end of the teardrop shaped racecourse behind them. This was where the stands clustered along the Great North road. White dots inside the circuit showed where soldiers were being trained in setting up tents in a proper military fashion.

The wind wobbled the wings of the climbing BE gently as they reached the target altitude. The dark brick terraces of Doncaster stretched away to the left and Stanley turned right, and north, mindful of Moller's instruction. Moller, sat in the rear cockpit, watched his movements with silent judgement. North of the aerodrome was open countryside and Stanley flew over dark winter fields under a grey sky. Now slowly descending with the engine ticking at idle.

On the approach to the aerodrome, Stanley saw a copse startlingly close to his left wing. He dipped the right wing to veer away from them before levelling out and making a good, if fast landing. The tail skid bounced slightly before settling and dragging the BE2 to a stop.

After taxiing over to the hangars, Moller helped Stanley down from the front cockpit.

"A good start, Second Lieutenant. A lot of pilots are taught to hold the wings level and turn solely with rudder. Either you weren't taught that or you ignored your instructors." The ruddy faced Captain leered at him, "don't you dare ignore me, by the way. If you had turned with the rudder, we would have skidded into those trees. So well done on the banking turn."

Stanley beamed with pride.

"It would have been better if you had been looking where you were going. Those bloody trees are well off the proper approach." Moller continued. "Go and find something to eat, and then report back here. If the weather stays clement we may have you up again after lunch."

#4452477 - 12/09/18 01:53 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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MFair and Maeran, welcome to the fray! Good to have you onboard.

7 December, 1915
Le Bourget
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

With the newly acquired map of Marne region securely in his pocket, Gaston was sitting at the controls of the Caudron flying east. The instructions were to fly for an hour, land and take off and return back home. He was sitting hunched over the map last night with a generous glass of Le Pinard, planning his route. The map was prepared by Monsieur Louvert et Fils Co. and was exactly what Gaston needed. All the roads, railroad tracks, cities, forests, rivers and other landmarks were carefully plotted in great detail. It was simply magnificent. It had the added bonus of the locations of all Entente and all known enemy aerodromes and the extents of the battlefront lines, current as of printing.
“Let’s see...” Gaston thought to himself looking at the scale in the bottom left corner. “The grid looks to be calibrated to about 15 km apart. If my Caudron flies at an average speed of 120km/h then I should cover ... (counts in his head and on his fingers) ... ... ... 8 squares!” He traced his finger 8 grid lines east of Le Bourget and stopped on Epernay. “Hmmm, this looks like a nice spot for a picnic.” He had his destination, now for the difficult part: plotting the route. He examined the map again and noticed that the path to the destination is dotted nearly in a straight line by a series of wooded areas. “That’s it! I’ll simply bunny hop from one forest to the next until I hit Epernay. Oh la la! I need to choose my words more carefully.”
He was now approaching the first wooded area. There was a satisfying grin forming under his moustache, which immediately turned into frown. A slight miscalculation on Gaston’s part. The ground fog blanketed the entire surface making it impossible to see the next wooded area. Gaston simply could not “connect the dots”, that figured so prominently on his map. He quickly formulated a backup plan. Follow the roads. Why hasn’t he started with this plan in the first place? Because the roads don’t go there directly in a straight line, instead they turn and twist, which makes following them that much more difficult. Gaston turned south until he met a road that ran in the east-west direction and started to follow it. He soon found out that flying above the road wasn’t the best way to go about it, as his forward visibility was very limited by the wings, the 2 engine nacelles and the forward cockpit with the observer, his forward view was next to nonexistent. He pretty much had to navigate based on the ground he’s already covered, as the unobstructed view was to the rear and partially to the sides. He flew along rivers and railway tracks as much as the roads. Anything that was running perpendicular to his flight path served as distance markers indicating how far he had progressed along his journey, promptly checked against his map. This and the clock ticking on the dashboard. For Gaston it was not really telling the time, but counting down the minutes to his destination. The time seemed to move twice as fast as normal with the vigilant observation of the road and waiting for the landmarks to slip by. It was nearly time to make the scheduled landing when Gaston noticed the sprawling Foret de la Charmoye, just east of Epernay. He was nearly there and on time! Gaston’s excitement grew with each mile closer to the city. He was amazed how trouble-free the entire voyage had been. He was ready to land when he noticed an aerodrome south of Epernay. It had to be Villeneuve-les-Vertus. He decided to circle it before landing on the nearby road and be on his way back home. He made a low level pass over the field and waved to the men running out of the sheds and hangars to see what the whole ruckus was all about. He made one more circuit and turned south towards the road to land. Too bad he wasn’t allowed to land at the aerodrome as the fog was thicker in these parts. He made his descent, checked that the road was clear of any traffic and lined up for the landing. 100 m ... 50 m ... 10 m ... CRACK!


"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."
#4452509 - 12/09/18 01:09 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Ah yes, more excellent reading to go with my morning cuppa. Much appreciated.

Mark, it’s great to see your pilot has made his appearance here. Wonderful introduction.

Maeran, your fellow has arrived as well, outstanding. Odd about the CTD but glad you came up with a work-around.

Fullofit, “Monsieur Louvert et Fils Co.”, that one made me laugh out loud. But what was the crack sound? Is Gaston alright? Did he have a wreck? Oh the anticipation of it all!

.

#4452538 - 12/09/18 04:50 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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This early in the campaign and we already have our first cliff hanger! Nice story Fullofit.


Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end.
BOC Member since....I can't remember!
#4452539 - 12/09/18 04:50 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Absolutely love how the Netheravon mob's characters are all directly interconnected! Very, very cool stuff, and I can't wait to see how the connection plays out in France! Speaking of France, what has that crazy Gaston fellow done?! I hope Monsieur isn't injured!

Sgt. Graham A. Campbell.
Hounslow Heath Aerodrome
December 9th, 1915.


It appears that the storm on the 6th was to be the last recent excitement to be had, for over the past few days we have all been subjected to an unbearable tedium.

The B.E.2 that had been upturned by the wind has been written off. As the men couldn't upturn the machine until the storm had passed, merely lashing it down in place, the engine was quickly waterlogged in the downpour, and the drenched canvas became so heavy in places that it led to the eventual snapping of a spar in at the lower port-side wing root, causing the entire wing to warp, its tip touching the upper planes. And so, it came to be that we had only one training machine left to share between nine of us (save for the old Boxkite, but there was nothing left to learn on such a basic craft). Naturally, this meant that our flying time became very limited, with long stretches of empty conversations and half-hearted card games of 'Rummy' and 'Beggar my Neighbour' (neither of which I knew how to play, so that option was closed to me). The effect was mind-numbing dreariness, in which only two pilots were able to go up in the B.E. for training exercises a day. To make matters worse, Cpt. Andrews had revoked our right to take trips into London! According to him, there's a "thousand things to learn, even out of the cockpit, so get your heads in the damned instruction manuals, you devils, and no more of these bloody excursions!".

On the 8th, Freddy had tried to arrange us into two teams, for a game of rugby. Of course, we had no ball, but a kit-bag stuffed with mines and Freddy's tunic was a fitting substitute. We all eagerly lined up as the two de-facto team captains (Freddy and a fellow I've not yet mentioned, named Albert Chapman) picked out their players. At first, we thought we'd found a way to beat the boredom, but this soon came to an end after a particularly boisterous tackle by Freddy on poor old Moore knocked the wind right out of him, causing the competition to abruptly cease. Our Kiwi doesn't know his own strength! He was awfully apologetic, and Moore bids him no ill-will over the incident.

Being cast back into the merciless boredom, we took to watching the two active R.F.C squadrons, No. 15 and No. 24, going about their training exercises, as well as analysing with a critical eye to rival Andrews' our fellow trainees, when the two lucky fellows were picked to fly. My favourites to watch were the De Havilland scouts of No. 24, which were capable of performing all manner of weird stunts and tricks. Earlier this morning, I had watched in amazement as their C.O, the famous Lanoe Hawker, who had won a Victoria Cross in France (A V.C - for an airman!), took up a DeHav and proceeded to demonstrate a series of spins and recoveries to his pilots. I had desperately wanted to fly after seeing this display, but sadly for me, our lucky two trainees for the day were Teddie Lawson and Hugo Lane.

Our lunch in the Barracks mess was interrupted by the appearance of Cpt. Andrews (who has been in a continuously foul mood ever since the loss of our second B.E.). At first, we expected to be scorned for some small thing or other, but for once the 'Hellhound of Hounslow' had brought us good news! Andrews had gotten off the phone with Hendon's Adjutant, having arranged to collect two brand-new B.E.2s! It was only a short drive, and we should have our machines by the end of the day. Losing our heads, we all cheered the Captain who, in embarrassed surprise, roared back at us to "Be quiet, you rowdy lot!".

Doyle Weston and Jacky-boy (our affectionate recently-given nickname for Jack Fisher) were ordered to go by car to Hendon and ferry the new machines back. We all watched with an envious eye as they got up and practically ran to the barracks door, literally jumping at the chance to alleviate the boredom. As he exited, that cheeky sod Jacky-boy turned and winked at us! After another brief stint of boredom, we heard the B.E's arriving at about Two O'Clock, and all bundled outside with critical eyes to assess their landings. Jacky-boy, of course, performed a perfect three-pointer. Weston's was not as aesthetically pleasing, but did the job. A gaggle of mechanics quickly appeared to roll our new machines into their hangars, and our excitement was done for the day.

Before turning in for the night, we checked the roster. Ah, relief! We were all to fly tomorrow! And, wait, what's this? Freddy, Jacky-boy and I were to fly an hour-long solo flight each! I relished the mere thought of a full hour to myself in the air, and retired to my bunk knowing full-well that I would be too excited to sleep.

[Linked Image]
Flight Instructor Cpt. Richard Andrews, the 'Hellhound of Hounslow']

Last edited by Wulfe; 12/10/18 12:27 AM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4452548 - 12/09/18 05:58 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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we gota wright a book and sell it...to finance WOFF+mods


make mistakes and learn from them

I5 4440 3.1Ghz, Asrock B85m Pro3, Gtx 1060 3GB
#4452574 - 12/09/18 10:16 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
Catterick AF
Air Training

8 Dec


The chaps and I cut cards to see who would give her a go in a clear spot of the weather. The Instructor said take up to 2000 Meters and get a'bot 60 mins flight time. No problem till I was up at 760 meters then then best she would climb was in steps. A few to many feet, she would shutter on a Stall so level out gain speed and Repeat. I finally reached 2000 , but it took me about 50 mins as I was afraid of Stalling into a Tail Spin. Upon landing I found that I had been up for 106 mins. In addition , I found a small Hole in / rip in my elevator. It must have happened when I spit out some gum that I was chewing to help stay warm. It must have froze at that height and acted like a small bullet causing the hole and small rip in the fabric.

Attached Files CFS3 2018-12-09 13-36-07-55.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 12/09/18 10:16 PM.
#4452643 - 12/10/18 01:58 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Wulfe, good thing Cpt. Andrews has his head screwed on right. Hurray for the new machines.
Gentlemen, thank you for all the concern regarding Gaston’s wellbeing. I’ll try to post a new instalment of his adventures in the evening.


"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."
#4452659 - 12/10/18 02:53 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

Carrick, your man best watch what he does with his chewing gum in the future. Perhaps he could use it as a new weapon the first time he is chased by a Hun, with any luck he could put the frozen wad right through his attacker's windscreen.

Wulfe, glad to see some new machines have arrived and Graham's training can get back on schedule. Now let's hope the weather cooperates.

Swany was up for nearly two hours yesterday doing his fly out and landing at a spot other than an aerodrome, then returning to camp. It went without incident other than a surprised horse who watched as Swany landed on the road next to the animal's pasture only to take off again brief minutes later. Swany was very pleased with how it went. It is unknown what the horse thought.

.

#4452684 - 12/10/18 04:16 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Lou, perhaps you should get off your high horse and ask the poor mare how she feels about it? I suppose it’s too late now. No need to shut the barn door after the horse has bolted.
deadhorse
I’m glad Swany stopped horsing around and had been given free reins to go where he pleases. No complaints from him I hope? He shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. biggrin


"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."
#4452690 - 12/10/18 04:46 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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[Linked Image]

Relevant to my next instalment (not today) and also now it seems smile

#4452710 - 12/10/18 05:58 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Maeran, you’re putting the cart before the horse!
Sounds like a challenge to get a horse into your story. I know mine will have a dumb friend, or two in it!


"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."
#4452731 - 12/10/18 08:14 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Fullofit]  
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Raine Online content
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O
Originally Posted by Fullofit
Maeran, you’re putting the cart before the horse!
Sounds like a challenge to get a horse into your story. I know mine will have a dumb friend, or two in it!


Or to put it in classical terms, Maeran, you're putting Descartes before Horace...

banghead

#4452732 - 12/10/18 08:16 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Just my thoughts on the subject. Some horses are smarter than others but I say any animal that out weighs you 5 times and could stomp you into a bloody hole in the ground whenever he chooses but instead allows you to be it’s master ain’t very smart. But I guess wives could say the same about husbands!


Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end.
BOC Member since....I can't remember!
#4452751 - 12/10/18 09:57 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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I thought that I Horsed Around a Lot. Lets Saddle up and get on down the Trail.

#4452753 - 12/10/18 10:04 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: carrick58]  
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Originally Posted by Raine
Or to put it in classical terms, Maeran, you're putting Descartes before Horace...


Raine, what classical period is that? 1914?

Originally Posted by MFair
Just my thoughts on the subject. Some horses are smarter than others but I say any animal that out weighs you 5 times and could stomp you into a bloody hole in the ground whenever he chooses but instead allows you to be it’s master ain’t very smart. But I guess wives could say the same about husbands!


Ain't that the truth, MFair!

Originally Posted by carrick58
I thought that I Horsed Around a Lot. Lets Saddle up and get on down the Trail.

rofl


9 December, 1915
Villeneuve-les-Vertus
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

-“Vous etes un idiot, Sergent Voscadeaux!” The voice on the other side of the telephone was livid.
-“Oui, mon Capitaine.” Gaston agreed, while holding a wet towel to his temple and watching his damaged Caudron being wheeled onto the Villeneuve-les-Vertus aerodrome by a two-horse* drawn wagon. He was speaking from the office of the airfield he had overflown earlier that morning.
-“I don’t care that you are alright.” the angry voice on the telephone continued “I care about the expensive aeroplane you’ve damaged during your clumsy landing. I care that it will take 2 days to repair the undercarriage of the said aeroplane that you crashed into the ditch. I care that no one else will be able to use it during this time. Who let you fly all the way to Epernay in the first place? If you were here I would ground you for two days. Get your butt back to Le Bourget tout de suite! Is that understood?”
-“Oui, mon Capitaine! Immediately!” He hung the earpiece on the hook of the telephone set.
Gaston will have to spend the next 2 days here waiting for the repairs to his Caudron. 2 days!
The name of the mechanic that took care of his Caudron was Jacques Gusteau but everyone there just called him Le Pou (Louse), because he kept on scratching himself all the time. Gaston was itching just from looking and he spent all of his time with Le Pou, who doubled and tripled to get the Caudron back into shape. Both propellers needed replacing and the right side wheel needed to be straightened. Gaston helped with the rips and tears in the canvas. The machine was ready by the end of the second day. On 9 December, with the sun up, Gaston started the engine, then the other one. #2 was still running at reduced RPMs. He would have to speak with the mechanics when he got back. He let the rotaries warm up a bit, checked all control surfaces, said a quiet prayer and gave the signal to let go to the men holding the crate in place. It lounged forward, rolled for a while and was up in the air and climbing. The weather was perfect for flying. Beautiful, blue sky, slight breeze and not a care in the world. Gaston was on his way back, keeping the sun in his rear quarter and checking the map only occasionally. He knew his way back home by now. The flight took another short hour and he landed just in time for second breakfast. Understandably he wasn’t very popular with the rest of the pilots, who were robbed of the opportunity to fly this Caudron during the past 2 days, setting everyone back. From now on, he would be the last one to get to fly it, after everyone else had their turn.

[Linked Image]

* No horses were harmed in making of this post.

Attached Files Crash.jpg

"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."
#4452757 - 12/10/18 10:22 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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I agree with lederhosen, there is a novel in these stories! I will get in touch with Peter Jackson pronto and see if we can get a movie deal also. Fantastic stories Gents!

Mark A. Jericho
December
England

Jim Collins and Jericho stood near the BE that was being warmed up. Jericho had been assigned to Lieutenant Thomas as his instructor was absent for the day. " I don't care what your lovely Captain at Upavon says, you will have to show me you can fly this machine before you do any cross country flying. Is that clear?" Thomas asked.

"Clear" Jericho replied.

"Now do a few rounds of the field and set her down." Thomas directed.

Jericho climbed into the old bus, waved away the chocks and bounded down the field. Pulling back on the stick the BE slowly climbed into the sky. It was a beautiful day with only a few clouds and little wind. When he knew all was well Jericho put the machine into a slow climb to the right. One thousand ft., two thousand ft. and still higher he climbed.

On the ground, Thomas and Collins watched as the BE went higher and higher. After 20 minuets Thomas spoke more to himself than anyone else, "What is the fool doing? He must be above 5000 ft.! At that moment, the drone of the engine above sputtered and died.

"Boody Hell!" Thomas exclaimed as he took the pipe out of his mouth.

"His engine has gone dud! Maybe he can restart it!" Collins joined in.

They both kept their eyes on the plane as it started a slow spiral back to earth.

Jericho was directly over the field. He kept the field off the right wingtip as he slowly spiraled down. Four thousand, three thousand, two thousand.

Thomas and Collins were holding their breath expecting the worst.

At one thousand ft. Jericho straightened her out headed away from the field then put the nose down and turned to the field for a landing. Coming in a little fast he expertly side slipped the machine and put her on the straight and narrow just before touchdown coming to a stop in the middle of the field.

Thomas and Collins were at the machine as soon as it stopped. "What happened?!" Thomas asked.

"Nothing" Jericho replied as he climbed out of the machine.

"Nothing!" Thomas shouted. "What happened to your bloody engine?

"Nothing. I switched her off." Jericho replied.

Thomas pointed at Jericho with his pipe. "I tell you to do a few rounds and set her down and you go to 6000' and switch off your bloody engine! What in god's name for!" He was livid

Jericho pulled off his flying cap and goggles, stood as straight as an arrow and with an oil stained grin said. "A few rounds is a bit subjective, maybe I did more than a few and at Uptavon a dead stick landing is up next so I figured we would just kill two birds with one stone.....So to speak.....Mr Thomas.

Thomas took a long turn on his pipe and slowly blew the smoke into the crisp air. Not taking his eyes off Jericho he said, "Your up next Collins!"


Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end.
BOC Member since....I can't remember!
#4452759 - 12/10/18 10:45 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit, close call there! I’m glad Gaston got away with nothing but a bump on the head. I was wondering if we would lose any pilots during training. Law of averages and such. I hope not.


Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end.
BOC Member since....I can't remember!
#4452771 - 12/11/18 12:11 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Wulfe, you’re making me jealous that my guy isn’t closer to the city! 77_Scout, your photo of Euston reminds me of taking the train from there to Cambridge back in 1970! It hadn’t changed. Lou, you realise, of course, that only Commies go jogging before breakfast? Fulllofit, I’m really enjoying Gaston. He’s a man after my own heart (I’m in a hotel tonight and there’s a 50% off sale on wine in the restaurant, so one needs a bottle of Pinot with one’s burger, wot?). Great cliffhanger, but I’m glad to see all is well. MFair, I am really looking forward to see Jericho react to darkest Europe! Maeran, absolutely delighted to have you in the campaign! Well done on WAGS in slipping into the field on that circuit. Carrick, what Yank did you get the gum from????

An Airman’s Odyssey – by James Arthur Collins

Part Five: In which I tour the countryside and am treated by a generous Canadian.

Mark Jericho, our cowboy trainee from Long Branch, showed up at Netheravon yesterday afternoon. We chatted for a minute on the field and then, later in the mess, I discovered that the man is temperate, which is as close to an atheist as a Bible-thumping cowpuncher can possibly get. Still, he’ll be great fun to tease, I figured. He took the empty spot in our hut and it was like Old Home Week in Netheravon!

6 December began as a lovely day. Swaney was first up and polished off his circuits without drama. I was next. Thomas insisted I repeat my task from yesterday, despite my protest that I’d been less than ten minutes short of touchdown and had proved my ability to land by downing my crippled bus in a field the size of a tennis court. I took over shortly after eight, climbed south to Salisbury, and looped west until I turned back to the aerodrome and touched down at the very edge of the field. Taking off again, I did a wide loop of Wiltshire and settle back in neatly.

Later in the morning, I did another loop of the area, this time climbing to 10,000 feet. The BE2 struggled a bit above 8,000 feet. On this second flight, the clouds grew thicker and threatened a continuation of the stormy weather that had plagued much of December to date. Still, I was able to see the ground from time to time and could not help noticing the incredible military activity across the local countryside. There were fields with spiderweb-like tracings of trenches, and convoys of lorries threw up dust storms despite the wet earth. Even from 10,000 feet up, one could see formations of cavalry on manoeuvre in the fields and lanes.

I’d never climbed this high before and found it bothered me. I had a splitting headache until after dinner that night.

Swaney had a good flight and Jericho did a dead-stick landing that drove Thomas apoplectic, since he didn’t realise it was intentional.

Several of the fellows were heading to town after dinner and Swany, Jericho, and I joined them. In Salisbury, we found a public house called the Red Lion, and encountered a group of Canadian officers who were, to a man, quite drunk. A few of the fellows sat with us and one chap, Stanley Something by name, passed out at the table with a fistful of 10 shillling notes in his hand. Jericho swore that the fellow promised to stand rounds before falling asleep, so Swaney and I ordered bitter while Jericho ordered coffee and cakes, and a good and cheap night was had by all. Before leaving, we wrote Stanley a thank-you note and left him our calling cards in the event we ever meet in France. If we all live, I should be glad to repay the fellow.

[Linked Image]
"In Salisbury, we found a public house called the Red Lion..."

Attached Files Red-Lion-Hotel-Salisbury-Old-Postcard-B349.jpg
#4452787 - 12/11/18 01:49 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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This is just getting better and better. Good stuff MFair. Jericho is going to show them all a thing or two about flying.
Raine, stealing from a sleeping Canadian? That’s unheard of!


"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."
#4452788 - 12/11/18 01:54 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Fullofit]  
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New Brunswick, Canada
Originally Posted by Fullofit
Raine, stealing from a sleeping Canadian? That’s unheard of!


But the Canada Revenue Agency does it with monotonous regularity!

#4452789 - 12/11/18 02:01 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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Ajax, ON
winkngrin


"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."
#4452857 - 12/11/18 02:58 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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RAF_Louvert Offline
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

Raine, now THAT’S funny! Also, another spiffing episode to the story, the takeaway to which apparently being, best to let sleeping Canadians lie.

MFair, a most enjoyable read. Jericho is clearly going to be a force to be reckoned with. Well done.

Fullofit, Gaston had quite the wreck there. No wonder he is not currently the flavor of the month with his fellow aviateurs.

We seem to have a definite horse theme going here at the moment, along with the bad puns. By the way, love the poster, Maeran. And to add to said equine theme just a bit more, here is Swany’s most recent adventure.

***************************

The day began crisp and bright and looked as if it would be another fine one for flying, albeit a cold one. 2nd Lt. Swanson had already been out for his morning run, after which he'd grabbed a quick breakfast washed down with an extra cup of hot tea, and was now seated in the cockpit of his assigned mount, a slightly scruffy B.E. that had been converted to a single-place trainer by the addition of ballast lashed into the front observer’s office and a makeshift cowling placed over it. Swany had been instructed to fly southeast to the aerodrome at Gosport, land, and return to camp. He gave his bus a final check then waved the signal for “chocks away” and off he went. Once in the air he made a turn towards the south and began his climb to 5,000’. When he saw Stonehenge off his right wingtip he made a slow, steady arc to the southeast. It was a beautiful morning to be in the air and Swany was filled with youthful exuberance as he plotted his course. He watched as the large woods east of Salisbury began to slide beneath him, then gave the altimeter a quick study; 4,600’, nearly there.

“Faen förbannade jävla!”, the Norsk flyer cursed out loud. It hadn’t been 20 minutes into his trip when suddenly the Renault V-8 gave out with a loud clank, stopping dead brief seconds later. There was no restarting it either as something down in the bowels of the engine had clearly come undone. Swany began searching about for a suitable makeshift landing spot. He was still over the woods but had good height, and as the B.E. was blessed with a very shallow glide rate he had time to assess his situation. He turned gently to the east as this would get him clear of the woods via the shortest path. He sized up a field that lay beyond his lower left plane and determined it to be a good candidate and began gliding his dead mount towards it. A short time later he was lining himself up along a fence line that ran west towards a small farm, touching down onto the field and rolling to a stop without further incident. Looking over towards the farm he saw a horse grazing, and unlike the one he had startled two days earlier this one showed no concern whatsoever about the uninvited guest. Swany climbed out of the B.E. and walked over to the house, giving the disinterested equine a pat behind the ear as he passed it. The beast responded by pulling its head away from Swany’s hand while giving a snort of apparent derision. The farmer who resided in the nearby house was far friendly and during the brief conversation with him the airman was told that, while there was no phone on the farm, he would find one he could use at the pub in West Tytherley not but half a mile up the road. The farmer further offered to keep an eye on his plane while he was away, though there was little chance of anyone fooling about with it where it was parked. Swany thanked the amiable fellow and headed off to make the call to camp.



Lifting off from Netheravon.
[Linked Image]

Passing over the woods east of Salisbury
[Linked Image]

Engine dead, looking for a place to set down.
[Linked Image]

Coming in along the fence line.
[Linked Image]

On the ground, safe and sound.
[Linked Image]

.

#4452872 - 12/11/18 05:56 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2018
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Wulfe Offline
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Sgt. Graham A. Campbell.
Hounslow Heath Aerodrome
December 11th, 1915.


I did not fly my hour-long circuit yesterday.

The weather had picked up slightly, and the winds were blowing at a higher speed than most felt comfortable taking off in. However, I was up to the challenge, and was ready at 0700, complete in full flying gear, to go up. As I waited for the mechanics to give my machine its final checks and wheel it out, I was kept entertained by watching a pilot of No. 24, practising spinning down in a D.H.2 as their C.O. had demonstrated. Buzzing with excitement, I watched as the pilot would spin down about 200 feet, recover, pull out in a swooping arc just over the tops of the hangars, and lazily climb back up again.

The nose of my B.E. begun to creep out from the hangars, as the No. 24 pilot straightened out at 1200 feet, flicked the rudder while lifting the nose, and promptly fell into another spin. I watched eagerly - for his past two spins I had been especially interested in attempting to see the control surfaces being manipulated in the air to fight the spin. However, something seemed wrong...the D.H.2 had just turned its seventh revolution in the spin...the pilot had consistently pulled out after six before. My excitement turned to concern, and then to horror as the pusher aeroplane spun all the way down, before crashing heavily just behind our hangar. Within seconds, pilots, mechanics, medics, were all running towards the crash, myself included. When I rounded the corner of the hangar, I was met with a grim sight. The D.H.2 had been converted into a crumpled mess of splintered wood, with no discernible shape left to it, save for the one upturned Starboard wing, which had remained somewhat intact. Several men rushed forwards, lifting the limp, bloody pilot out of the wreck and laying him down on the ground. His body looked twisted in a terrible, unnatural way, and he was clearly dead. Feeling faint, I staggered back, before turning away from the gruesome sight and lighting a cigarette with shaky hands. Almost instantly, the cigarette was snatched from my mouth and stubbed out. "Are you mad, man?!" an unfamiliar voice cried. "There's petrol everywhere, you fool!".

Sleep did not come easy that night - my mind presented me with rapidly-flowing images of the crash, then the body of the airman. Teddie and Albie Chapman had seen the smash as well, and were in a similar funk.

However, our training can't be halted on account of one death, and as the Hellhound has pointed out, we will be exposed to a lot more death in France. So, this morning I stood in the same spot, as the B.E.2 was wheeled out. Although this time there were no stunting D.H.2s over the hangars, I still stared at the skies.

When my B.E. was ready, I lethargically clambered into the cockpit, and started up the engine with one of the mechanics. As per usual before every training flight, Andrews appeared alongside my cockpit. "One hour in the air at 3,000 feet. Stay within eyeshot of the Heath". I nodded, pulling my goggles down, and pushed the throttle forwards. The machine obediently took me into the air, and I climbed out Westwards. Nervously, I checked my dashboard. To my dismay, the needle of the airspeed indicator was swinging wildly between 50 and 55 knots - the instrument was malfunctioning! This did nothing for my courage as I let out a shaky breath and gently rolled the machine North, heading again towards London.

Gradually, the memory of the fallen D.H.2 left me, and I relaxed into enjoying the sensation of flight. It was shockingly cold in the chill December air as I reached 2,000 feet, and I resorted to periodically holding the flight stick with my knees and rubbing my legs in a vain attempt to warm myself up. I continued up to 3,000 feet, and only another thousand feet above me hung great white clouds, lazily creeping inland. Fascinated, I looked up at the strange beasts, feeling as though I could reach up and scoop a section of cloud out with my hands. Feeling the familiar thrill of flying, I flew over the top of the Capital, weaving in an S-shape as I looked down at the specks of the people below. Four yellow-white balloons hung silently over Fulham in a small cluster, and I flew over the top of them, grinning as I did so. The cold still cut through me, but I was enjoying myself far too much to take any real notice.

Suddenly remembering that I was supposed to stay within eyeshot of the heath, I reluctantly turned around and headed back to Hounslow - but not before I took the opportunity, being out of the scrutiny of Andrews, to attempt an aileron roll! Tugging on my shoulder-straps beforehand, to make sure I was securely fastened, I yanked the stick to the right, and the B.E dropped its wing, rolled completely on to its side, and begun to turn over upside-down! Just as it did, the image of the dead aviator suddenly flashed into my mind, and for a second I panicked. The B.E. got stuck on its back, and begun slowly diving. Feeling sick with fear, I desperately pulled the stick right again and, to my joy, the B.E. half-rolled back onto its belly and levelled out. I had lost 600 feet in the manoeuvre.

Shaken, but now swelling with pride, I begun to climb back up. I had pulled off my first stunt! Although, I knew that it would be a while before I would have the pluck to try another. For the rest of my hour-long circuit I treated the B.E. very gently - my way of thanking it for not killing me in the aileron roll. Eventually, I checked the clock and saw that it was time to head back.

Andrews was furious on the runway. "Where the bloody hell did you go, Campbell? You were supposed to stay in sight of the aerodrome! What if you'd gotten lost, or crashed, idiot?".

"Sorry, sir" I mumbled, as I could see Freddy and Jacky-Boy over the Captain's shoulder, making faces and laughing at me from a distance.

Jacky-Boy was next to do his hour-long solo, and left around 2 PM. He, too, disappeared from sight. I wonder what kind of stunts he's off doing.


Last edited by Wulfe; 12/11/18 05:58 PM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4452899 - 12/11/18 09:39 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
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carrick58 Offline
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Raine: I got the Gum from the Red Cross worker that came by the Aerodrome spreading good cheer along with Tea and Biscuits I say, She did have a funny accent may have been a Yank ?




Attached Files wings_edit_3178477k.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 12/11/18 10:16 PM.
#4452923 - 12/12/18 01:17 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Dec 2012
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MFair Offline
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Lou, another close call for one of our would be hero’s. Glad to see Swany was able to make it back to the field.

Wolfe, Graham had reason to be a bit timid after watching a machine spin in from a few thousand ft. I feel it will become an all too common sight once we get to France

Carrick, be careful with gifts from pretty women!

These are great stories gents. I am really going to enjoy these next three years.


Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end.
BOC Member since....I can't remember!
#4452924 - 12/12/18 01:19 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Nov 2014
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Fullofit Offline
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Ajax, ON
Lou, tough luck with that sad, sad engine. Liking the scenery!
Wulfe, rather a sobering story. Glad Graham wasn't too affected by this experience.
Carrick, now I have to ask. How did you get that gum from her? Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation exercises?

10-11 December, 1915
Le Bourget
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

Gaston had to wait in line all day for a chance to test his skills with the dead stick landing routine. Many of the trainees ended up somewhere else than the aerodrome and it took time to recover the machine. By the time it was Gaston’s turn it already was getting dark. He quickly hopped into the Caudron, gave it full beans to get up to 2000 m altitude and switched the engines off. They started to wind down with the propellers milling for a bit longer and then it was just the sound of wind whistling around, all the way down to the deck. Gaston didn’t waste much time and lined up the last leg of the landing phase. He miscalculated and ended touching down halfway down the runway, stopping near the end of the field. That was still better than some of the other students. There was no more time left to do another run. It would have to wait until the next day.
The next day was beautiful. His Caudron carried him up to 2000 m for his second attempt at dead stick landing. Gaston concentrated on the approach. He had to do better than last time. The rate of descent looked good, distance to touchdown seemed okay as well, good speed. He was just flying over the crest of the berm ahead of the airfield. It was all downhill from there. He passed the road on the outskirts with a few meters to spare and touched down just as the aerodrome opened up to him. It was a perfect 4-point landing. He couldn’t improve on it even if he tried even harder. Gaston jumped down from the cockpit and walked away feeling proud of his achievement. Tomorrow he’ll show them all how to stunt in this contraption. His confidence was growing with every step.

[Linked Image]

Attached Files IMG_0998.jpg

"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."
#4453036 - 12/12/18 06:56 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Nov 2014
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Fullofit Offline
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Fullofit  Offline
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Ajax, ON
12 December, 1915
Le Bourget
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

Gaston took the machine up to get a feel for the more extreme maneuvering that will be necessary later when they’ll eventually be forced to mix it up with the enemy in combat. Slipping was a bit disconcerting with the plane flying one way and his body telling him it’s going somewhere else. Looping was not a problem as long as there was enough height and enough speed could be harnessed during the initial dive. Gaston enjoyed performing these maneuvers. It reminded him of his childhood and the merry-go-rounds. Rolls were his downfall. With the two engines, the size of the craft and the span of the wings it proved impossible to rotate the plane about its axis. He would either end up cork screwing towards the ground, or managed a quarter roll and the plane would immediately right itself back to its natural attitude. It was a stable ship, that’s for sure.
For his second attempt, Gaston decided to refrain from doing anything fancy:



"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."
#4453047 - 12/12/18 07:49 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
Catterick AF
Air Training

10 Dec 1915.

I Took the Bus up to 5000ft and flew around for an 1 1/2 hrs. While waiting my turn for the Dead Stick Landings, We all watched as Jumbo made his approach and went straight into the ground. Why ? Too Fast ? No up elevators ? All flights Cancelled.

Attached Files Aeiral_Warfare_of_WW1 (37).jpg
#4453052 - 12/12/18 08:47 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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MFair Offline
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Nice video Fullofit. Kudos on the dead stick landings and aerobatics

Carrick, Sorry you missed your turn at the controls. Especially as it was at the expense of Jumbo.

Mark A. Jericho
England
December 1915

Jericho sat in front of his instructor, Capt. Crittenden, as Crittenden looked over his file.

"It seems you took a very queer route to end up in the RAF Lieutenant. One year at university, a few years as a..." He paused for a moment. "Cowhand" he asked more than stated.

"Yes Sir" replied Jericho. "I was a top hand at the Bar T ranch near San Antonio Texas."

Captain Crittenden went on, "So you got your ticket to fly at Stinson Aviation in San Antonio then to Canada." Another pause. "What took you to Canada?"

"Circumstances Sir." replied Jericho.

Captain Crittenden eyed Jericho for moment and stood up looking out the window. "Thomas says you are a natural pilot Lieutenant." Turning back toward Jericho with a stern look he added. "He also said you are a bit brash."

Jericho started to speak but Captain Crittenden raised his had which silenced him immediately. "Lieutenant, I have had the pleasure of serving with some very good pilots in France. I dare say some much better than yourself" He stood for a moment and let the words sink in before adding, "and most of them are dead. It takes a lot more than a good hand at the controls to survive over the front. I hope you will learn that or you too will be joining them."

"Yes Sir!" replied Jericho. Jericho was pretty good at sizing someone up and he instinctively knew to listen to everything he had to say. Captain Crittenden was not the sort to pee on your leg and tell you it was raining.

"I think its time to see how you do with aerobatics" continued Capt. Crittenden. "I will see you on the field in half an hour."

"Yes Sir" Jericho replied as he saluted and turned to leave.

"Lieutenant!" the captained called after Jericho.

"Yes Sir?" Jericho answered.

"Anything I tell you will not be subjective. Is that clear?"

"Yes Sir." Jericho replied with a salute.

Walking back to get his kit Jericho went over the meeting in his head. He liked Captain Crittenden. He demanded respect and Jericho could tell he deserved it. Nothing fancy or false about this character, he was the genuine article.


Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end.
BOC Member since....I can't remember!
#4453062 - 12/12/18 11:35 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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77_Scout Offline
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Vancouver Island, Canada
2nd Lt Aleck A. MacKinlay

December 12, 1915

I am finally back on my feet after several days being down with some sort of cold or flu; terrible chills and a hacking cough. Had two days of confusion running around London trying to figure out my transport to France and confirming the details of my deployment. It seems the army is quite good at moving large groups of men to the front, but getting a single replacement pilot to his assigned post throws the whole system into a tizzie. Finagling that two weeks on leave apparently bunged things up a bit. I would have been wiser to just stay at No.5 Training and transfer out with the other graduate officer-pilots. Too clever for my own good!

Regardless, after seeing just about every clerk in the War Office and Quartermaster Generals offices in Whitehall I am on now my way. I had some notion that I would be ferrying a replacement aircraft across the channel right to my destination, but the reality is much less romantic or straightforward. I am to be shipped along like so much human-cattle by train to the Dover Marine Station, and any 'ferrying' I do from there will be on an actual ferry across the channel. Hoping for decent accommodations in Dover tonight ... have seen too many faces today and need some private time to settle myself.

#4453065 - 12/13/18 12:13 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Dec 2013
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loftyc Offline
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13 Dec., Fldwbl Karl Arnt Lofthoven reporting. I have completed 5 training flights in the Aviatik BII. However, I have several issues with it that may prove insurmountable. Foremost is that it requires over half forward control lever to just maintain level flight! If I relax my hand (and indeed whole arm) even the slightest, the tail immediately drops, the nose goes up, and the plane goes into a stall. I managed only briefly to look back at the tail and confirmed that there is considerable negative deflection on the elevators, so it's not just a control stick/cable problem. Also, I was afforded the opportunity to test a captured British Be2, and found able to be hands-off the stick completely, something that would be fatal in my craft. I gather that the rest of you are Entente pilots (!), but perhaps one of you has at some time tested an Aviatik and can confirm or deny my observations? I find it too incredible to believe that such unstable behavior would be allowed on a production craft. Maybe my tailplane was misaligned during construction?

Unfortunately, what this leads to is that I can only fly this beast for an hour tops before my arm is too fatigued, as well as being able to only fly in clear, daylight skies, as I need a horizon for reference if the nose starts to creep up. Obviously these are restrictions not suitable for a front-line unit. Does anyone know perhaps of a field mod that KoFL issued that my mechanic should be aware of?

Also, the captured RAF plane had a timepiece, altitude meter,and an airspeed meter, all of which should be on every German plane. Why aren't they? Of course we're better fliers that the British (or anyone else) and don't explicitly need these gauges, but they sure would be operationally quite useful.


(edit: I misspelled my own name!)

Last edited by loftyc; 12/13/18 12:15 AM.
#4453076 - 12/13/18 02:06 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Jul 2014
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Raine Online content
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Raine  Online Content
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New Brunswick, Canada
Loftyc,

Perhaps you're flying the machine without Fat Franz in the front seat????

#4453078 - 12/13/18 03:01 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Jun 2016
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Mortuus Offline
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Mortuus  Offline
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Posts: 66
Ottawa, ON
Hey all,

Got my first entry here. Knocked it out on my break at work (hence written by hand, rather than typed), and scanned it when I got home just now. I'll be transcribing it later tonight, but wanted to get this up and out there pronto.

[Linked Image]


[Linked Image]

Anyway, for those of you who can't read my handwriting (presumably all of you, haha), my pilot's name is Michael Atherton Thorne, formerly an observer in No. 1 Sqn, RFC, and before that a writer for the only newspaper in the town of Cochrane, Alberta (population 300 people, 1 quarry, 1 sawmill, and 4 brick plants).

#4453093 - 12/13/18 07:19 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Oct 2011
Posts: 642
Ace_Pilto Offline
Livestreamer/YouTuber
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Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha
Talk about going above and beyond, just reading that gave my hand sympathy cramp Mortuus.


Let's pretend I got the BWOC badge to embed here.

Wenn ihr sieg im deine Kampf selbst gegen, wirst schwer wie stahl sein.
#4453096 - 12/13/18 08:34 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: loftyc]  
Joined: May 2012
Posts: 896
77_Scout Offline
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Vancouver Island, Canada
Originally Posted by loftyc
13 Dec., Fldwbl Karl Arnt Lofthoven reporting. I have completed 5 training flights in the Aviatik BII. However, I have several issues with it that may prove insurmountable. Foremost is that it requires over half forward control lever to just maintain level flight! If I relax my hand (and indeed whole arm) even the slightest, the tail immediately drops, the nose goes up, and the plane goes into a stall. I managed only briefly to look back at the tail and confirmed that there is considerable negative deflection on the elevators, so it's not just a control stick/cable problem. Also, I was afforded the opportunity to test a captured British Be2, and found able to be hands-off the stick completely, something that would be fatal in my craft. I gather that the rest of you are Entente pilots (!), but perhaps one of you has at some time tested an Aviatik and can confirm or deny my observations? I find it too incredible to believe that such unstable behavior would be allowed on a production craft. Maybe my tailplane was misaligned during construction?

Unfortunately, what this leads to is that I can only fly this beast for an hour tops before my arm is too fatigued, as well as being able to only fly in clear, daylight skies, as I need a horizon for reference if the nose starts to creep up. Obviously these are restrictions not suitable for a front-line unit. Does anyone know perhaps of a field mod that KoFL issued that my mechanic should be aware of?

Also, the captured RAF plane had a timepiece, altitude meter,and an airspeed meter, all of which should be on every German plane. Why aren't they? Of course we're better fliers that the British (or anyone else) and don't explicitly need these gauges, but they sure would be operationally quite useful.


(edit: I misspelled my own name!)


Aleck once had a dream were he flew over 30 missions in an Aviatik BII. Weird right? ... that a Scottish boy would have such an odd dream.
Anyway, in the dream he had to fly the plane with the stick well forward just to stay level. Being an awesome dream-pilot he of course could simply use his senses (eyes and ears) to judge altitude and airspeed. smile

#4453133 - 12/13/18 05:56 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
Catterick AF
Air Training

11 Dec

Services were held for Jumbo with full honors. I guess that I will ne ver see the 2 pounds and a 1/2 penny he owed me.

12 Dec: I did my 2 Dead Stick landings to day. The 1st Spot on,but the second ? I made a good approach floating down like a leaf from a tree then touch down and run out. The a/c ran out of air field came to a shuttering stop then became bogged down in the soft ground. A little damage to the prop and a landing wheel.

Attached Files CFS3 2018-12-13 09-23-25-58.jpg
#4453209 - 12/14/18 09:47 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2018
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Wulfe Offline
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Sgt. Graham A. Campbell.
Hounslow Heath Aerodrome
December 14th, 1915.


On the morning of the 13th, we were all up bright and early, excited at the prospect of the day's activities. For the pilots on the roster, a day of jubilant flying! We were getting along well in our training, and were now spending more time in the air. For the pilots not on the roster, London awaited! Andrews, to reward our progress, had begrudgingly allowed non-rostered pilots to continue their decadent day-trips into the Capital. Hugo Lane and Jacky-Boy had set out shortly after our breakfast (the usual Ham and Eggs - the delicacy of Hounslow) in a flat-bed truck to undergo one of their favourite past-times, watching the soldiers come to and from Kings' Cross Station. I don't know why they enjoyed this so much, although we are all young, and perhaps it is the remnants of childish make-believe, playing at soldiers in the back yard. By any means, they would not be seen again until the evening.

Freddy Foster, with his trademark confident grin, set out at 10 O'Clock on his next training flight; Andrews had instructed him to take a B.E.2 on an hour-long flight in the direction of his choosing, where he would then land, taxi back around, and make the trip back. I was scheduled to do the same today. Doyle Weston and Teddie Lawson were sharing the second B.E. to make short solos around the Heath, and Albie Chapman, one of the more advanced students, was allowed a 'free flight'. Once he returned, I would then take the bus up and do the same.

As I was idly chatting with Julian Davies, one of the more shy recruits whom I'd not had much contact with, there was a horribly familiar crashing sound, and I turned round to see one of our B.E's crumpled on the ground in flames. Inside was poor old Albie, burning away with the machine. In horror, I realised that, although I was mortified, I was not surprised, nor did I turn away as they pulled Albie's body from the doused wreck. Had death really become so known to me? Of course, later, when the moment had passed, I cracked up and nearly cried out in fear. It all seemed like some sick part of my training - First seeing Webb's near-miss, then the D.H.2's spin, and now Albie, a friend, burnt up in a crash. It felt as if I was being built up, one step after another, towards being nonplussed by death and horror, to view it as an unfortunate matter of fact.

Teddie Lawson, who had been up on the opposite side of the aerodrome, was pale as a sheet when he landed, and could scarcely stay on his feet as he wobbled away from the B.E, clearly in shock. He didn't say a word for the rest of the night, apart from one chilling phrase he uttered as we made for our bunks; "I saw the whole thing". When Freddy tried to soothe him, he reverted into his blank, unresponsive state. I fear he may wash out, as Webb did. Hugo and Jacky-Boy were equally shaken by Albie's sudden and random death, but Freddy pulled us all together and calmed us down. I suppose he had a great many of his friends die in Galipoli, and was attuned to the reality.

This morning, we held a funeral for Albie, in which I was a pallbearer. Even through the solid wood coffin, I could pick up the nauseating smell of burnt skin and bone. For the sake of the fellows, I retained my composure, but once the affair was over with I was violently ill. Andrews saw this, and ordered me grounded for the day. Jacky-Boy is up at the moment, but his bus is very much reserved in its manoeuvres.

Training has become a strange ordeal for me. On the one hand, the camaraderie is wonderful, and the flying itself is exhilarating, but the occasional sudden and violent death, possibly of a friend, hangs over us all. I suppose, in many ways, this is a premonition of what our lives will be like in the war. I must put Albie out of my mind, sad as his passing is, and focus on completing my training, if I am ever to earn my wings.


Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4453261 - 12/14/18 05:51 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Mortuus Offline
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Another entry from 2/LT Thorne. Not enough of interest to put in a letter, yet, so just some scribblings in a notebook about some flying and some talks with fellow students (with apologies to Donald Jack for a blatantly stolen joke).
EDIT: The OP mentions training targets at Catterick and Thetford provided by RAF_Louvert; what mod are they in?
[Linked Image]

Last edited by Mortuus; 12/14/18 07:00 PM.
#4453315 - 12/15/18 01:47 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Maeran Offline
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William Stanley did fly again after lunch. He took an FK3* up and circled around underneath the steel grey clouds at 6000 feet before making a landing that he was quite pleased with. Captain Moller described it as "too steep and too harsh. Keep it up and you shall break the undercarriage."

Dismissed for the day, Stanley left the aerodrome to walk along the main road up to the officers' mess. Every day there were onlookers here; old men, women, men from the factories on Sundays and schoolchildren whenever they could. There had been flying at Doncaster since the first air meeting in 1909, and the people of the town still enjoyed the spectacle.

"You're very brave young man," a lady in an old grey shawl told Stanley as he passed by.
"Thank you madam," the newly fledged pilot replied.
"Them aeroplanes are very dangerous," the lady replied. "Last week a poor soul fell out!"
This gave William reason to pause. "Fell out?"
The woman nodded "Ooh yes. He was very high up. Arms and legs waving. God rest him, the ambulance ran out fast, but he can't have survived that fall."
"How terrible."
"Yes. Every few weeks some poor soul falls out. Very often the aeroplane just keeps on flying away. It's aweful."
Stanley blinked at the woman, "do you often come to watch the flying?"
"Oh yes. It's a modern miracle."


Opposite the main entrance to the racecourse, a large townhouse provided the RFC officers with both a mess and accomodation. It was exceeding richly furnished in the fashion of Edwardian England. Polished wood floors peeked out from under rich Persian rugs. The walls were papered with light coloured textured lincrusta in art nouveau patterns, however it was mostly hidden behind paintings, hunting trophies and sporting prints. This was clearly the house of a sportsman.

Unusually, to Stanley's mind, amongst the foxes and highland stags were posters for the Blue Cross fund. In these the league for the protection of 'Our Dumb Friends,' decried the plight of working horses, especially those serving with the army. There was even a collection box in the mess bar.

[Linked Image]

"It's Lord Lonsdale's house," a greasy haired student pilot explained, "well not his main house. He uses it for the races."
"I thought so," Stanley replied. "There are pictures of him everywhere."
The greasy haired young man blinked. "Do you know him? I'm Barnestaple by the way, how d'you do?"
Stanley shook the proferred hand. "Not personally. I have seen him about, most recently at Windsor just before the war. My name's Stanley. Have you been flying today?"
"Not today. We can't all fly at once. Hopefully tomorrow. Did you go up then?"
"Yes. Just a few circuits to get used to the machines. I say! I have a thirst, is the bar through here. Come along!"

[Linked Image]

There was more flying the next day. Stewart made a cross country flight to the nort east of Doncaster. The confluence of the Trent and the Ouse loomed in the distance before he turned back for home.

After landing Stanley was met by another student pilot.
"Hello what?" The yellow coated man grinned. "You've been up a few times eh?"
"Why yes," Stanley replied, removing his flying gloves.
"Now that you have a handle on the controls, I wonder if you could settle a wager between my friends and I?"
"Oh?" Stanley raised his eyebrows. "What wager is this?"
"We think that no cavalry man can loop a BE2." The pilot rocked on his heels. "Its a skill that it takes an engineer to accomplish."
Stanley scowled. "I say! I was in the Blues you know. I'm as good as any sapper!"
"So you'll do it?" The man wheedled.
"Do what?"
"Loop in a BE. It would have to be over the aerodrome. So that we could see."
Stanley was indignant. "Of course I can loop. Fifty pounds says I can."
Was that a moment of worry on the man's face? "That's a bit rich. However, I think that I can live with the guilt of relieving you of that cash."
"You're on!"

As the man walked back to his friends, Stewart wondered what he had let himself in for.

---------------------------------------------------------

*BE2 really.

The house belongs to Lord Lonsdale, also known as the yellow earl. He was well known in sporting circles and spent most of the family fortune on extravagance.
He was also a rival to the Earl of Derby (William Stanley's father). The two vied to raise more pals' battalions than the other.


Good stories gentlemen. Your handwriting is far clearer than mine, Mortuus. Mine looks like a spider stepped in some ink.


#4453372 - 12/15/18 02:33 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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Ajax, ON
13-14 December, 1915
Le Bourget
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

The Caudron was heading east. The pilot in the cockpit was barely looking for any terrain landmarks anymore to navigate by. He knew where he was going and was confident of reaching his destination without too much trouble. The sky was clear and the sun which was rarely seen this time of year was shining brightly, casting playful reflections and dark shadows inside his cockpit. The autumn leaves on the trees below assaulted his senses with the multitude of hues saturated with brilliant reds, fiery oranges and bright yellows. The roads and train tracks snaked their way on the ground beneath, switching sides from port to starboard and back, as if they were playing hide and seek with the aviateur, who was tracking them. The waters of Marne were shimmering in the distance to the north. Harvested fields and sprawling forests filled the reminder of his vista. Gaston was on his way to Villeneuve-les-Vertus near Epernay as part of his next piloting exercise. Land there and return back, all in one go. The awe inspiring views surrounding his machine would be something he’d enjoy immensely, were it not for the dark plume of smoke his #2 engine was trailing. The trouble started 3/4 of the way to the destination airfield. There was no point turning back now and Gaston decided to fly on. He kept glancing at the ailing engine and giving it the looks as if it were Kaiser himself. He knew he will not hear the end of it when the captain at Le Bourget hears of it. He’ll tear him a new one for sure, but before this unpleasant activity occurs, he will have to get his butt down to earth in one piece and preferably not in flames. The smell of burning oil was noticeable and he was risking the engine catching on fire, but it was either this or getting stranded somewhere in the middle of an empty field with no help in sight. Thankfully the engine stabilized and kept on running albeit with significantly reduced RPMs. He was slowly losing altitude but the aerodrome soon appeared in view and Gaston was able to bring it in. Le Pou was the first person Gaston recognized and it was him who again took care of the Caudron’s sick engine. Once the mechanic had a look, he estimated that the repairs would take a whole day. Broken rings in one of the cylinders were the culprits of this most recent mechanical failure. Gaston braced himself for another phone conversation with his captain.
The next day Gaston was up very early, anxious to be back up in the air and on his way to Le Bourget. He found his Caudron in the hangar being looked over by Le Pou who was scratching the body part that no one should see being scratched. Gaston pretended not to see and instead inquired about the repairs. The mechanic assured him that the engine was now better than new and that he can take off at his leisure. Gaston didn’t waste any time. He thanked Le Pou for his tireless efforts and started his preparations. He was in the air within the hour and flying, by now, down the beaten path toward Paris. As promised, the engine purred like a well-fed kitten and Gaston soon was greeted by the sight of La Ville-Lumière. He could not resist the temptation and took the bus over the city outskirts to get a better look. It was like seeing an old friend. The view of this great metropolis filled Gaston with pride and inspired him with resolve and will to keep it safe from Le Boche. He promptly turned north and came in for the landing. He didn’t care anymore what Le Capitaine had to say about his piloting skills. Gaston has now a new mission. He will be the guardian of the French people. The Sentinel of France.

[Linked Image]

Attached Files Shot12-10-18.jpg

"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."
#4453453 - 12/16/18 03:23 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Ajax, ON
15 December, 1915 22:00
Le Bourget
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

[Linked Image]

Voscadeaux was sitting in the cockpit of his Caudron with the instruments illuminated by a small lightbulb flickering in tune with the droning of the engines, which were currently spitting small plumes of flame from the exhausts. He could see the waxing moon in front of him and made a mental note to keep it at his back for the duration of the flight to keep himself oriented in the right direction to his destination. He was excited to test his skills in this new environment. He wasn’t sure what to expect with darkness surrounding him on all sides. The Caudron started to roll and was soon in the air with the burning oil drums and the lights from the hangars flashing by and then nothing... Total darkness with the exception of the moon, the instrument panel illumination and the receding lights of the aerodrome. Gaston could not see the ground or even the horizon. He couldn’t even tell if he was flying straight, let alone navigate to a distant aerodrome. The feeling of dread grabbed him by the throat and rammed its tentacles all the way down to the pit of his stomach. The entire body was instantly drenched in cold sweat. He couldn’t see and was afraid to make any adjustments as not to upset the balance of the machine. With each second he was flying further into the depths of hell and further away from the safety of the aerodrome. His only reference now was the position of the moon. Gaston quickly made the decision to turn back. He will not lose his life senselessly. He kicked the rudder and watched the moon slide to the side and end up at his back. Gaston was hoping he was still flying level and was desperately searching for any hint of the airfield he had left just a few minutes ago. He finally noticed faint lights to his port side and carefully approached them. It was the aerodrome! He lined his craft with the glowing row of burning oil drums and flew past them, then made a ginger 180 degrees turn. His nose should now be lined up for final approach and Gaston tried feverishly to recall the locations of every nearby tree. He will need to avoid them without ever seeing them. The glow of the airfield was getting closer. He could not see how close the ground was and had to trust his instruments. Gaston had to force himself to avoid descending too early for the fear of ramming into the high berm ahead of the airfield. He travelled the final distance blindly, praying that his altimeter was properly calibrated and he will not simply smash into the pitch below disintegrating the machine and splattering his brains on the nearest tree. This thought was interrupted by a heavy thud. He was on the ground and the Caudron was groaning in protest to the rough handling. Gaston looked at the clock. His entire “mission” lasted 7 minutes and was a total fiasco. A definite fail. What now? Is he a washout? Will Le Capitaine be just too happy to tell him to go pack his bags? Gaston had no answers.

Attached Files IMG_0999.jpg

"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."
#4453517 - 12/17/18 01:06 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
Catterick AF
Air Training

13 Dec .

Posted for aerobatics at 0910 hrs. The Instructor standing by my a/c said Go up do a few loops side slips then go Higher and do a spin then up again and another. It was not that easy. I did the side slips without a problem. I started loops at 735 Meters pulling out at 200 and 135 Meters. ( The machine protested with loud groans coming from the wings that I thought they would crack ) The motor missed ( carburetor ? ) Last was the spins. The Instructor later said that they looked more like slow corkscrews than spins, but passable.

Attached Files CFS3 2018-12-16 16-37-32-80.jpgCFS3 2018-12-16 16-53-01-59.jpg
#4453677 - 12/18/18 12:54 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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Carrick, where is everybody else? Christmas shopping?

16 December, 1915
Le Bourget
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

Le Capitaine witnessed the entire event. Gaston’s excuse and then the repeated pleas fell on deaf ears. He was all too happy to dismiss Gaston.
Voscadeaux was to pack his gear and leave first thing in the morning. Gaston didn’t expect anything else from his superior. He didn’t go to sleep that night reflecting on his future.



The sun was up for some time before Gaston realized it. He was sitting on a bench with his kit beside him, waiting for transport to take him back to the train station in Paris.
He was watching someone walking a dog on the airfield. It took him a while before he realized it was a woman. She was wearing the French Army uniform, but no rank was apparent. She came over and asked if he was also waiting for the car to take him to the city. A small consolation, but it looked like Gaston would have a travel companion. Her name was Nicole Girard-Mangin, as they started to talk he learned she was the first female doctor in French Army. Gaston was hugely surprised and fascinated to hear this.
Nicole explained that during the mobilization in 1914 a clerical error occurred and her documents were issued expecting Dr. Gerard Mangin - her ex-husband. Due to the great need for doctors, she was accepted and posted at Bourbonne-les-Bains. Last month she was transferred to the military hospital at Verdun and was flown in just last evening in what she called “the coldest flying machine in the world”. It had to be a Farman. She was now travelling to Paris to personally supervise delivery of the specialized medical equipment that will accompany her back to Verdun hospital.
She, in turn, asked Gaston what brings him to Paris. Reluctantly he recounted his pitiful story, describing in detail his last night’s class and the captain’s reaction and accusations of cowardice. Nicole listened and posed a few questions. She then said she knew a few men with condition described by him and that it never stopped them from becoming pilots. She explained that Gaston was suffering from nyctalopia (night blindness). There was nothing that could be done about his vision, but there was something she could do about the oaf that dismissed him. Gaston could not believe what he was hearing. They went into the offices and Dr. Girard-Mangin had a lengthy discussion with Gaston’s commanding officer. Gaston was back on the flying roster thanks to the good doctor. His captain listened to her diagnosis and reluctantly gave in. Even he knew able pilots were in great demand. He promised Gaston not to let him off the hook this easily and that in place of the night mission, he would have to fly to the front and remain over NML for 1 hour! He called it the reconnaissance exercise. That is after he passes his bombing accuracy tests. With glee in his eyes and a maniacal chuckle he dismissed Gaston, who was still trying to figure out what to make of all of this and who IS this woman?
The car taking Nicole to Paris was idling near the offices. She was sitting in the cab while Gaston was shaking her hand in gratitude and to wish her well on her way. She squeezed his hand and said to look her up if he’s ever in Verdun. The car drove off leaving in its wake one large dust cloud and one lucky student-pilot. He kept on waving goodbye until the car disappeared from view. The most difficult exercise was still ahead of him.

[Linked Image]
Dr. Nicole Girard-Mangin and her dog Dun.

Attached Files nicole-dun.jpg

"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."
#4453698 - 12/18/18 04:27 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Jul 2014
Posts: 1,461
Raine Online content
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New Brunswick, Canada
I’ve been on the road with work and haven’t had much stick time the past two weeks, and after tomorrow I have a house full of kids and grandkids for two more weeks, so I’ll have to make up an excuse for my pilot. I’ll fly some catch-up missions, but I fear he will be late getting to France.

MFair, Good Jericho story. We’ll be seeing you in the new year in France! 77_Scout, hope Aleck has a good voyage and journey to St-Omer. Fullofit, that was a great vignette with Dr. Girard-Mangin. You’ll have to remind Gaston that he’s married, but I’m not 100% sure it will make a difference. Maeran, terrific opening to the saga of Stanley, but then you’ve always excelled at this stuff! Mortuus, I am enjoying the beginning – especially since I found my battered copy of “Three Cheers for Me” by Donald Jack. Keep up the good work. Carrick, I’m glad you’ve been keeping the thread occupied through the pre-Christmas rush. Loftyc, I don’t recall that issue with the Aviatik, but it’s been a long time. Lou, Good job on the dead-stick landing. And I love the Norse lesson! And Wulfe, great description of Campbell witnessing his first crash.

An Airman’s Odyssey – by James Arthur Collins
Part Six: In which I meet a farmer and fly about in a defective machine
.


The BE I flew this week, 2343, was past its prime. So said the Technical Sergeant, and so say all of us. I believe I wore it out on the 7th with a long flight. I was to fly for two hours, making a landing in an open field and returning to Netheravon. I decided to head towards London. Flying directly over the city was forbidden, but I thought I might see Windsor Castle and perhaps put down for tea and scones with His Majesty. The wind, however, had other plans and after an hour I was still only approaching Bracknell. Still, the area offered wide open farmland and I selected a large fallow field devoid of telegraph wires, poplars, and other protuberances, and settled the machine down gently. As I bounced merrily to the downwind edge of the field for takeoff, an older fellow on a motorcycle raced over the grass towards me. Dismounting, he came over to my aircraft and deftly climbed up onto the wing-root.

“Turn off that damned fan,” he shouted and I obliged, suddenly fearful I’d broken some law. “Wonderful piece of kit, this,” he said, patting the front of the cockpit rim.

“I hope you don’t mind my landing here,” I began. “You see, my orders...”

“#%&*$# the orders, man. That was a lovely landing. I intend to take my ticket myself.” Good God. The man was eighty if a day. “I don’t think the flying corps would take me, though. Come, you must have some tea.”

It was freezing and I was tempted and he insisted further and mentioned brandy and I’m a weak man. So it was I spent a wonderful hour with Mr. Sumner, who owned the large farm on which I’d landed. He was a wonderfully interesting fellow with a great fondness for things technical and he asked me enough about my machine to have me worrying he was a German spy. At length he drove me back to the BE in a wagon, together with a farmhand whom I taught to pull on the prop. Having successfully restarted without killing anyone, I took off and headed home, working on my story for Mr. Thomas, our instructor.
The day ended with congratulations from Thomas and the Technical Sergeant on diagnosing a faulty sparking plug and successfully replacing it in the field.

Over the next several days I was to practice dead-stick landings. On the first day I took off into a clear sky, turned south and climbed to just over 2500 feet when the motor quit completely and would not restart. I put the nose down and turned gingerly back to the field but came up short, narrowly missing a fence and a line of chestnut trees.

All was made right in the morning, so I again took off in 2343, looping around far to the south to approach the field from the east. But just before reaching 6000 feet, the Renault died again, this time filling the cockpit with the smell of petrol. I sideslipped immediately to lose altitude and cool the engine, using a technique Jericho had discussed a couple of nights before. I pancaked clumsily onto the aerodrome and was told I still needed two decent landings.

So on the 10th I tried again, by now overly nervous. I came over the field high up, just east of my intended spot. Thinking I had lots of time I spiralled to the east and ended up too far away. Twice I nearly stalled and in the end I flopped the machine short of the mown field, breaking the left side wing spar.
Captain Hampton-Lewis tore a strip off me for being a bloody fool and a rotten pilot and threatened to send me back – but came up short when he remembered I hadn’t transferred from the Army.

Finally on the 11th I managed a perfect landing, rolling right up to my intended spot on the field, and I the afternoon I repeated the show.

[Linked Image]
Starting the glide

Next day it was a free flight with orders to try tight turns but to avoid playing “silly bugger” with the machine. Aerobatics was frowned upon, but we were all keen to try our hands. Swany had discussed spins over dinner one evening. Our machines were the C type, which had a tail fin as opposed to the B type with only a rudder. C type machines were harder to spin. There were those who swore that spins were nearly always unrecoverable, but Thomas had suggested that one had merely to put the nose down, hold everything central, and pray. Oh, and avoid DH2s and Moranes like the plague.

So I climbed to 5000 feet over Salisbury and turned north. After entering a shallow dive to gain speed, I zoomed until I lost all airspeed and then gave full right rudder. The machine fell over and began to turn like a leaf caught in a whirlpool. Before I lost my senses due to the motion I pushed the stick hard forward. Almost at once the BE fell out of the spin and I regained control. I tried the manoeuvre twice more. Spins seemed like child’s play. I thought momentarily of trying a loop, but the lumbering aircraft dissuaded me and I returned to Netheravon content for the moment.

Attached Files Dead-Stick.jpg
#4453834 - 12/19/18 12:13 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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Fullofit  Offline
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Ajax, ON
Originally Posted by Raine
Fullofit, that was a great vignette with Dr. Girard-Mangin. You’ll have to remind Gaston that he’s married, but I’m not 100% sure it will make a difference.

Raine, Madame Voscadeaux sleeps soundly, trusting her husband will do the right thing.
Great story, just make sure Technical Sergeant doesn't make James replace all the spark plugs.

Lofty, I had a few QC flights in the Aviatik. You're right, they do want to climb. All 3 of them, B.I, B.II and C.I! How can you stand this? This seems like an issue OBD should be made aware of.


"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."
#4453938 - 12/19/18 10:29 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Nov 2014
Posts: 2,145
Fullofit Offline
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Fullofit  Offline
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Ajax, ON
17-18 December, 1915
Le Bourget
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

-“Why does this always happen to me?” Gaston kept on asking himself as he watched two Augustinian monks walk out of the captain’s office all covered in soot and ashes.
-“VOSCADEAUX!” Captain’s voice could clearly be heard not just outside of his office, but throughout most of the aerodrome.
Gaston got up from his chair and entered the office as per his captain’s invitation.

Yesterday morning...

-“Finally some real action.” Gaston could hardly contain himself when he heard that the bombing exercises are up next. “This is what I’m here for.” He was instructed to pick a target and have at it. When he went in the morning to inspect the “ordnance” slung under his Caudron, his enthusiasm was deflated significantly.
-“Students aren’t allowed live ammunition.” Was the tired explanation given by the armorers to all the pilots who came by and complained that these did not look like bombs. ‘The bombs’ were canvas sacks filled with ashes from the kitchen stoves. When dropped and had exploded, they would leave a nice mark on the ground spreading the light grey contents, indicating the impact point. This would aid the pilots adjust their aim as necessary after returning from their bombing run and examining their handiwork.
Gaston decided to attack a bridge north of the aerodrome. He approached it from the south flying along the road. When he was over the bridge he released one of the bags and made a whistling noise to complete the illusion. The sack hit the water to one side of the bridge, leaving no mark. Gaston should have known better! He switched to a different target. One that would leave a mark. A bend in the river cut by a straight line of the road would delineate his new target area. He will try to hit that small piece of land. There was still a chance that his bombs would fall into the water, but it was a chance he was willing to take. After making an about turn and approaching his target from the north he released his second bomb. He made another whistling sound with his mouth and then, after witnessing the impact on the ground he made a sound of an exploding shell from a Soixante-Quinze. Gaston was happy with his aim and decided to give it another go to make sure it wasn’t just luck. He put some distance between the target and his plane and then made a tight turn to line up for another run. Another set of whistling and exploding sounds. By now his moustache was full of spittle, but his egg hit the right spot again. Gaston had one more sack of soot and very little saliva left. He decided to increase the level of difficulty and aim for a small shed on the farm just south of the bridge. He will have to be more precise with such a small target. He was coming fast and had little time to aim. The bomb exploded wide and Gaston could only blame himself for rushing it. Tiny droplets of rain begun to fall from the overcast sky telling him the exercise was over.

This morning...

The weather cleared up overnight and now Gaston was carrying his four sacks of ashes at 2000 m through the clear blue skies. He made the decision to switch it up and pick a target in a totally different location from yesterday. East of the aerodrome he found some ruins surrounded by a small forest.

[Linked Image]

He made his first run on the go to simulate a surprise attack and the bomb hit the east side of the building. He flew over the target and made another run from the south at a reduced height. This time his bomb hit the north end of the target. Gaston turned east and approached the target from the south again. His third bomb, released early, fell on the south side, while Gaston’s machine banked west for the final run. His last bomb bounced of the roof and hit the west face. The building was now covered in a cloud of ashes on all four sides. Gaston made another circuit around the target admiring his work, turned east and made his way to the aerodrome.

Now...

-“Sergent Voscadeaux, you are an even bigger idiot than I’ve imagined.” Captain’s friendly voice greeted Gaston as he was walking through his door. “I just had a visit from two monks. Did you know that someone earlier today attacked their monastery? Apparently there was dust and ashes everywhere. I had to explain that it was an accident and that one of our students couldn’t tell the difference between a monastery and ruins. I’ve had it up to HERE with you! Why can’t you follow orders? But you know what? I don’t care. Let someone else deal with you. Tomorrow you’re flying your final examination mission and that’s it. It’s over. Heh, heh ... Over, you hear me? What are you standing here around? DISMISSED!” Gaston didn’t have to be told twice. As he was leaving a thought crossed his mind: “I don’t think the captain likes me.”

Attached Files 1915-12-18.jpg

"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."
#4453948 - 12/20/18 12:13 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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77_Scout Offline
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77_Scout  Offline
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Vancouver Island, Canada
I will be away over Christmas, so will catch up with you all in about a week. Looking forward to a good read then!
Cheers!

#4454037 - 12/20/18 04:35 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Jun 2016
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Mortuus Offline
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Mortuus  Offline
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Ottawa, ON
Hey folks, got another entry for you. Unless I'm going against the rules by doing so (and I didn't see anything in the OP, but I could have missed it), I'm going to do a weekly letter going forward, in the interest of having something substantial to report every time (in case one day in particular has too little happen to make an interesting entry).

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

This one ought to have gone up yesterday, but it took a day to get past the censor (read: I forgot my notepad at work)

#4454044 - 12/20/18 05:29 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Maeran Offline
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UK
Not only is it not against any rules to post a weekly report, Mortuus, but it has been my plan for at least the training period. For that exact reason.

As things heat up stories will come much faster, I can assure you.

Good stories. I particularly liked the ash-covered monks fullofit

#4454139 - 12/21/18 01:35 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Maeran]  
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Fullofit Offline
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Originally Posted by Maeran
I particularly liked the ash-covered monks fullofit

Thanks Maeran, I’m glad you liked it.


"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."
#4454148 - 12/21/18 02:23 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
Catterick AF
Air Training

14 Dec


I was on the Board for Cross country and a Night Flight. I did the X Country flight and landed on a large road then up and back About 38 min each way under a clouded sky. The Night flight was cnx due to rain and wind.

#4454199 - 12/21/18 01:28 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Wulfe Offline
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That pesky 'Real World' beckoned! I've been keeping up with training, but haven't had the time for write-ups. But, I was able to catch up on everybody's stories today with a cup of tea - perfect start to a day off!

Sgt. Graham A. Campbell.
Hounslow Heath Aerodrome
December 21st, 1915.


3. The Final Days at the Heath.

The last several days have flown past, for it feels as if we have been whipped up into a training frenzy by Andrews. As a result, I've had no time to write my Diary! But, I have a window of opportunity now to do so.

Each day we have been performing more complicated tasks - gone are the simple days of taking off and landing! Two days ago, we were ordered by the Hellhound to take to the skies and deliberately put our buses into spins! I must admit, I had the wind-up as I kicked the rudder hard in a climb, and had a moment of frozen terror as I was revolved around by the out-of-control machine, but the thought of Freddy so matter-of-factly righting his own self-induced spin only moments earlier allowed me to think rationally, and, remembering Andrews' instruction, I righted the spin and gently pulled out of the dive. Well, I must say, once one performs a stunt and survives it, it very suddenly becomes an absolute novelty! Shakily, but with slightly more confidence, I went about my sheepish acrobatics. But, by the time I was due to come down, I'd discovered yet another joy of flying, and I truly felt that I was up on every trick known by B.E pilots!

A new B.E. came in to replace the one that poor Albie crashed, but this one didn't last long either. This time the victim was poor old Hugo Lane, who failed to get out of the way of a tree in time while hedge-hopping behind the barracks. He survived the crash, but died yesterday in hospital. Poor old Hugo! He never was the most able flyer. We were all very sorry to have to bury another friend this morning, but as usual our Kiwi, Freddy, saw us through. That being said, despite my sadness, I accepted Hugo's death almost immediately...

Yesterday, Hugo's smash nastily lingering in our heads, we did our first (and hopefully last) night-flights. Being surrounded by the impossible dark, with no sensation other than the uneasy floating and the roar of the wind and engine, is truly disturbing. I have heard that in clear moonlight night-flying is far easier, but we flew on a cloudy night and so had to suffer in tense uncertainty for the duration, until we were thankfully back on the ground (At Netheravon at first - then we had to fly back!). Jacky-Boy crashed his B.E on landing at Netheravon, but the damage wasn't so bad, and the mechanics say that the machine will be ready to fly again in two days. As for Jacky-Boy, well, I think he has been turned off of night-flying forever! He was positively terrified, and Teddie Lawson and I had to lift him from the wreck! He was still white as a sheet as he arrived back at the Heath by car today (mercifully after we'd laid Hugo to rest).

I have yet to mention a relative newcomer to the training mob, who arrived on the 15th, a lad of just fifteen! The softly-spoken youngster is now known to us as Switch-off.His real name being Raymond Holtcombe, he earned the nickname 'Switch-off' when he nearly had Cpl. Knight's hand off on his very first day at Hounslow. Just before the lucky Corporal was about to swing the propellor, the lad seemed to snap out of a daydream he had been having and cried out, in a shrill voice (which, ashamedly, gave us all a real chuckle) "Wait! Let me switch off!". Needless to say, the dubious mechanics now stare daggers into his back. Unfortunate young Switch-off was met with Andrews' full fury for the stunt, and was shaking in his fug-boots by the end of the ordeal!

[Linked Image]
2nd. Lt. Raymond 'Switch-off' Holtcombe, post flight training.


As it turns out, Switch-off happened to be a marvellous pilot and has already caught up to the usual mob. When he's on the ground, he follows Teddie Lawson around like a nervous pup. We never did figure out why, but we suspect it's because Teddie was the first to speak to him. Not to mention his natural charm, of course!

By any means, we have but one task ahead of us, before we are to head to France - bombing drills. We are finally to use real weaponry, and to learn how to use the B.E. as an instrument of war! Jacky-Boy and I are terribly braced, despite the warnings by Andrews that many a foolhardy trainee has died when failing to get clear of the blast of the bombs. I only hope that my Observer should have been properly trained on his machine gun, so that we can knock a few Huns out of the sky, too!

As I write, I am observing the pilots of No. 24 mock-dogfighting with each other. What a fascinating sight - I only wish I end up on a DeHav myself! As I found out from one of their mob, Lt. Wells, 24 has just received orders to make ready for their departure to France in February. They must be terribly excited - especially while they possess such incredibly manoeuvrable machines!

That's all for now - as I write, Andrews is summoning Freddy and I for our bombing practice. I must prepare, it isn't a short flight to the target range.


Last edited by Wulfe; 12/21/18 08:15 PM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4454295 - 12/22/18 12:21 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Nov 2014
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Fullofit Offline
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Fullofit  Offline
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Ajax, ON
Great stories all! Wulfe, I hope Switch-off lives to be 15 and a half!

19 December, 1915
Le Bourget
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

Gaston was tracing a route on the map with his finger. It ran north to Oise River, then north-east through Ermenonville Forest then past Compiegne Forest where Oise joins with Aisne and cuts through the front line. This is where Gaston would do his patrol exercise. First, he would fly along the trenches running north-west toward Noyon. This would take roughly 10 minutes, then turn back and fly south-east for another 10 minutes back to the river. He would then fly further south-east toward Crouy for yet another 10 minutes after which he would turn back and repeat the same route until the prescribed 1 hour would elapse. He reached the front lines after a 50 minute flight from Le Bourget and proceeded along the front as planned. A light haze was obscuring the scene below in a few places and when Gaston’s plane got too close to the other side of the NML, the German Flak would let him know about it immediately. Black puffs of smoke appeared close to his location. At first, slightly below and behind, but as he continued the explosions came closer and Gaston corrected his flight path to get out of range. Eventually he completed his 1 hour long reconnaissance mission and took the same way back to the aerodrome. He was glad his training was now complete and before being posted in the new year he will be able to spend the holidays with his family. The next day, after finally receiving his military pilot’s license, a short drive to Paris and purchasing his train ticket, he was now sitting in the Buffet de la Gare de Lyon (now called Le Train Bleu), waiting for his train to Marseille, sipping a glass of red and observing all kinds of travellers passing by. Mostly soldiers, fresh ones leaving, wounded coming. Some businessmen, nurses, and families seeing their loved ones off to war. He even caught a glimpse of two young women without a chaperone blowing kisses to the officers. Youth these days! The times are changing. He looked again at the poster on the wall. It was an advertisement for l’Ècole de Haute Enseignement Commercial. It was the first business school for women, which opened on 2 December and invited women of all walks of life to attend. Gaston wondered what sort of business would they be taught there. One of those days he’ll have to catch a show at Moulin Rouge. The departure time was getting near. He left a tip for the garçon and off he went to find his platform. He will be with Violette and his two little girls soon. The 10 day pass in his pocket was reminding him of how little time he has left. Better get a move on, Gaston!

[Linked Image]
The Blue Train Restaurant in Gare de Lyon, Paris

Attached Files Le Train Bleu.jpg

"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."
#4454382 - 12/22/18 05:11 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
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carrick58 Offline
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carrick58  Offline
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mmmmmmmmmmm it does make one wonder what kind of business

#4454384 - 12/22/18 05:22 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
Catterick AF
Air Training


Dec 16.

1845 hrs, my 1st night flight. The Instructor said it was just like flying on a cloudy day. Right ! I gunned the power and off in the darkness the a/c leaped. Thank goodness for the Moon and a clear sky even then I kept in sight of the AF. Flying in a wide circle, I flew around a few times. Time to land : I knew that there was Trees in back of me when I took off so decided to try a down wind approach. It was indeed a bounce and go landing , but ended using all the flight path. Down Safe, One more to go.

Attached Files CFS3 2018-12-22 08-54-07-23.jpgCFS3 2018-12-22 08-57-08-81.jpgCFS3 2018-12-22 09-04-23-72.jpg
#4454409 - 12/22/18 06:50 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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lederhosen Offline
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Germany
Finding that I'm in bit of a writing slump. Hope that will end in 2019.

To keep things up to date, Willi has passed his training and is now on leave till 3rd Jan 1916.
Must say that the night flight and the following 2 bombing runs were quite fun.

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]


make mistakes and learn from them

I5 4440 3.1Ghz, Asrock B85m Pro3, Gtx 1060 3GB
#4454432 - 12/22/18 08:25 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
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carrick58 Offline
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carrick58  Offline
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Great pics

#4454441 - 12/22/18 08:58 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
Catterick AF
Air Training

17 Dec

Posted for Xcountry night Flight. The instructor said fly for 30 mins on a heading of 92 the make a port turn ( standard rate turn ) and go for 28 more mins. on a heading of -1. Nothing to it , Old Chap.
Right oh, Only I didn't feel awfully brave flying in the dark without a full moon and out of sight of the Aerodrome. After the time went by everything below was still dark and may have been farm lands with Trees. I started a wide circle and dropped down to 100 meters Afew mins later a spotted waves hitting the shore line. so new I passed it. I pulled around in a 180 standard turn and there off to the starboard wing were lights. Down at last.

Attached Files CFS3 2018-12-22 12-33-33-05.jpgCFS3 2018-12-22 12-38-55-26.jpgCFS3 2018-12-22 12-41-27-87.jpg
#4454517 - 12/23/18 08:48 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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Hasse Offline
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I have spent this morning reading all the wonderful stories posted in this thread. Like I wrote earlier, the bar has been set really high for this DID campaign!

The year is approaching its end, so I think it's a good time for me to post the first entry in my pilot's (hopefully long) saga.

[Linked Image]

Julius Alexander Schreck was born in Königsberg, East Prussia, on April 2, 1895, as the second son of army career officer Georg Wilhelm Schreck. The birth was difficult, and Julius’s mother Helga never fully recovered from the ordeal, passing away when her baby boy was only a few months old. Julius’s father, who was already working long hours in the service of the Prussian Great General Staff, began spending even more time away from home. The job of raising Julius and his elder brother Hermann was mostly left to their father’s sister Emmi, who was the wife of a school inspector in Königsberg and herself also a teacher. Tante Emmi, as the boys called her, became like a mother to them, while their relationship with their father always remained somewhat distant and formal.

Julius excelled at school and was fascinated by modern technology, including aviation, which in those days was still in its infancy. He also had more romantic interests, such as the exploration of distant countries and their foreign cultures. Reading Karl May’s adventure stories ignited in young Julius a desire to see the world outside Germany. His good grades opened him the way to the prestigious Friedrich Wilhelm University of Berlin, where he went to study law in the fall of 1913. Julius hoped to become a civil service officer and gain a position in the German Empire’s colonial administration. Meanwhile, his brother Hermann had chosen a different road, becoming a cadet in the Prussian army. Hermann had already graduated as a Leutnant in the infantry when Julius was only beginning his studies.

Then came the fateful summer of 1914. In August, Hermann marched with his regiment towards Paris in the ranks of the powerful German First Army, while the father of the boys, now an Oberstleutnant, helped with the mobilization effort in the War Ministry at Berlin. Julius had had his military service postponed because of his studies, but now he too was swept away by the events and decided to join the army as a volunteer. Julius wanted to become a pilot, but he was instead sent for artillery training into East Prussia. He was gravely disappointed by the army’s decision, but resigned to his fate, expecting the war would be over anyway before he managed to see any action.

As the battles raged across Europe, Julius was learning to become an artillerist. Because of his academic background, he was chosen for officer training, with the promise of a quick promotion to the rank of Leutnant after completion of the course.

But in early January of 1915, Julius fell seriously ill with pneumonia. He was sent for treatment to a military hospital in his old home city of Königsberg. For a while Julius’s life hang in the balance, but after several weeks of intensive care, he finally began to recover.

In March, as Julius’s health was steadily improving, a new patient was brought into his room - an army pilot suffering from a lung injury, which he had received when his plane crashed down somewhere on the Eastern Front. Julius quickly befriended the unlucky aviator and did his best to help him recover from his injuries. Inspired by the man’s stories of flying (and not discouraged by his severe accident!) Julius was encouraged to again apply for pilot training. This time he also enlisted the help of his father, hoping that a recommendation from a moderately high ranking professional officer would help his chances.

Time passed and Julius was finally able to return to his artillery training unit. However, recovery from the pneumonia had took him so long that his coursemates had already graduated and Julius was left in a limbo of sorts, not yet ready for front service. Bored nearly to death while waiting at a depot for the next course to begin, in May 1915 Julius finally received welcome news from Berlin: he was ordered to report to the Flugfeld “Mars” at Bork near Berlin to begin his military pilot training!


"Upon my word I've had as much excitement on a car as in the air, especially since the R.F.C. have had women drivers."

James McCudden, Five Years in the Royal Flying Corps
#4454519 - 12/23/18 09:26 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Wulfe Offline
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Wulfe  Offline
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Welcome, Julius, and best of luck in the new year!

Sgt. Graham A. Campbell
Hounslow Heath Aerodrome
December 23rd,1918


The Training mob here in Hounslow are all suffering from sore heads this morning!

Our bombing practices were a success - at least in the eyes of Andrews! Personally, I found it thrilling. Coming out of a dive, we were instructed to drop our bombs and skid away sharply to the side, to avoid the blast. Even when doing that, the B.E. is thrown up by several feet, just by the force of the bomb going off below! The first time I experienced this, I thought I was for it, but once I realised that I was okay, I rather enjoyed the weird sensation!

Yesterday, we were all summoned, one by one, into Andrews' office. Suspecting that we were again to be put through the ringer, I sheepishly made my way to his door upon my scheduled summoning. Imagine my surprise when Freddy Foster skipped on out of the office, beaming from ear-to-ear, and shouted to me "Oh, just you wait to hear the news!". Inquisitively, I stepped through and stood expectantly on the other side of Andrews' desk.

The Hellhound looked up at me, and, to my astonishment, smiled! I did not know the man was capable of such a feat! As I stood rigidly to attention, he reached into a drawer and produced a set of 'wings', that is, the insignia worn by R.F.C pilots. "Congratulations, Sgt. Campbell, you have completed your training. These are for you". In ecstatic disbelief, I slowly took the wings from his hand, holding them dumbly in front of my face. As I scrutinised my new beloved wings, Andrews continued. "You'll now be flying with No. 20 in Netheravon. Collect your things and depart immediately".

I was practically dizzy when I stepped out of his office. I had done it - I was a true R.F.C Pilot! I at once rushed away to sew on my wings. Later that night, we all had an uproarious binge to celebrate our accomplishment, and we all excitedly nattered about our newly assigned squadrons. Happily, Jacky-Boy and Switch-off are both coming to No. 20 with me! From what I have heard, our new squadron has been equipped with the F.E.2 two-seat fighters! We are all over the moon.

I must away now - we are leaving soon for Netheravon.


Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4454553 - 12/23/18 02:44 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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RAF_Louvert Offline
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
RAF_Louvert  Offline
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Senior Member

Joined: May 2012
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

Superb reports and stories everyone, most enjoyable. I finally had a chance to sit down and catch up on them all, (last week was very busy for me). Hasse, welcome aboard, here's hoping Julius will be with us for the duration.

I am off now to get Swany caught up on his training flights, hopefully without further mechanical failures. Later all.

.

#4454615 - 12/23/18 10:27 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
Catterick AF
Air Training


19 Dec

Posted to bombardment Training; 1 St target an X where two roads meet. 4 25lbs Practice Bombs . Result Short fall from 1100 meters. missed by a mile at least.

20 Dec

Second Bombardment exercise: Used 4 Practice Bombs for score. The target was a road from 700 meters. Result 1 Hit within 1000ft. Passed.

Attached Files CFS3 2018-12-23 14-16-56-43.jpgCFS3 2018-12-23 13-57-34-89.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 12/23/18 10:31 PM.
#4454619 - 12/23/18 10:41 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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carrick58  Offline
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Joined: Aug 2010
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
Catterick AF
Air Training


22 Dec

Marksmanship Training: I say Wizard. Shot off a 47 round of 303 cal Ball ammo Great fun.

Attached Files CFS3 2018-12-23 14-36-13-68.jpgCFS3 2018-12-23 14-37-09-59.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 12/23/18 10:43 PM.
#4454636 - 12/23/18 11:35 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Ace_Pilto Offline
Livestreamer/YouTuber
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Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha
2nd Lt Percival Adrian "Drongo" Drummond

News Report (Special Bulletin), South Burnett Times. 21st November, 1914

Hot, humid spring weather may have played a part in a shooting outrage which took place late the other day in Murgon shire. It's reported that an employee of the local bank flipped over his desk and brandished a Colt revolver at several employees and customers while delivering an incoherent tirade on the virtues, or lack thereof, of the modern banking system before discharging all six rounds from his pistol into the bank's clock. The miscreant then bolted out of the door before the gunsmoke cleared and stole a horse that was left saddled and tied to the hitching post of a nearby saloon. Witnesses say he was last seen heading in the direction of Brisbane, local troopers have been dispatched to the area to search for the man, in his thirties, who has been identified as Percival Drummond of 14, Shearers Lane. The town is stunned by his sudden outbursts, Drummond was, by all accounts, a peaceful man who enjoyed cricket, gardening and attending dances at the local town hall. We at the South Burnett Times wonder if "rag" or "ragtime" and its' corrosive effect on the morals and virtues of young men and women may have played a part fomenting a state of mind that resulted in in this young man's escapade.

Fortunately nobody was injured in this scandalous affair and it is expected that a recalcitrant Drummond will stand before the local magistrate to answer for his offenses any day now.

[Linked Image]

(A picture of the Q.N.Bank in Murgon Shire Circa 1914)

Last edited by Ace_Pilto; 12/24/18 05:28 AM.

Let's pretend I got the BWOC badge to embed here.

Wenn ihr sieg im deine Kampf selbst gegen, wirst schwer wie stahl sein.
#4454650 - 12/24/18 12:38 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Fullofit]  
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Originally Posted by Fullofit


Lofty, I had a few QC flights in the Aviatik. You're right, they do want to climb. All 3 of them, B.I, B.II and C.I! How can you stand this? This seems like an issue OBD should be made aware of.


that's my point, actually. I can't stand it. but at least now that I know it's not just me or my set-up, I'll ask Pol if it's supposed to be this way. Maybe I can get a field mod...

#4454799 - 12/24/18 11:11 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
Catterick AF
Air Training

Dec.

I got my Posting orders for 4 Sqn in France. I will be going Over There.

Attached Files Glenfinnan Viaduct  train.jpgSol_Duc_(steamship).jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 12/24/18 11:15 PM.
#4454903 - 12/26/18 02:47 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha
30th November, 1914

"What do you mean there's no rum on board?" Drummond asked of the sailor he'd collared for interrogation. "I thought you seafaring types never left port without it?"
The sailor grimaced and Drummond rather wished he hadn't, yellow teeth caught the light of the setting sun. His weather beaten face creased like old canvas. "Requisitioned, the whole country's sugar crop is on its' way to France"
"Well blast it all! I'd have to pick the one tub that wasn't carrying any of it and no rum besides!" Drummond exclaimed.
"Steady on now mate, we've a long journey ahead and getting excited won't make it pass any quicker."
"Nevermind, I'm heading that way anyway. Perhaps I'll catch up with some of it."
"Well be sure and remember the crew of the Omrah if you do." Said the sailor with a wry smile, which fortunately was a step down from his previous grimace and hid most of the sins of his inadequate dentistry.
"No fear sport, I'll send you a bottle or ten for letting me on board without asking too many questions!"

France.

Drummond never cared for the idea of going there but it seemed to be a better option than wasting away at the pleasure of His Majesty in some prison or other. In planning his escape from the mundane Drummond had left himself a cache of supplies and all of his life's savings in an old tree stump outside of town, the horse he'd stolen had got him most of the way into Brisbane before he sold it to a farmer who was similarly inclined to a lack of inquisitiveness that the sailors of the Omrah had shown when he paid for his passage to the bosun who'd showed him his berth and signed him on as a "stores clerk". The one funnelled tramp steamer that Drummond has selected was called the "Omrah" and now he, several AEF troops, the crew of the Omrah and the ship's cat were all on their way to France. Drummond had no idea what he would do when he got there, providence would have to take care of that.
[Linked Image]

Note, the Omrah took the first Australian troops to WW1 in 1914.

Last edited by Ace_Pilto; 12/26/18 02:48 AM.

Let's pretend I got the BWOC badge to embed here.

Wenn ihr sieg im deine Kampf selbst gegen, wirst schwer wie stahl sein.
#4454941 - 12/26/18 05:54 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC

Dec



I haven't had much sleep since arriving in France. The NCO Pilots Quarters at the replacement Center was full so I took a small room on the local economy as I processed in. I asked about places, one old timer said that there was a place in town J ust look for a Red Light above the Door. The location is a Fete Maison 2d Floor, at Moncomme Les Rouge Lumirer. I say , it easy to spot because it has the only Red Light above the Door in the area and the people seem friendly. On the down side , the racket it seems to be a non stop Party with dancing and laughter. Oh well its just for a few days

Attached Files unnamed_1  non stop party.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 12/26/18 06:04 PM.
#4454948 - 12/26/18 06:55 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Greetings, all! hope you all had a great christmas! Graham’s made it to No. 20, and by a twist of fate has joined the Netheravon Mob! I wonder if any of our fellow DiD’ers will be joining Graham in No.20...! Very excited for the beginning of the DiD proper, come new years!

Sgt. Graham A. Campbell
No. 20 Squadron R.F.C.
Netheravon, England.

December 24, 1915.

Part 4: Welcome to the Flying Corps.


Jacky-boy, Switch-off and I said our good-byes to the training mob before heading off to clamber aboard the flat-bed truck that would take us to our new home at No. 20. Freddy Foster’s been assigned to No. 24! The lucky Kiwi’s switched to DeHavs and will be undergoing additional training as a scout pilot at Hounslow! Teddie Lawson’s off to No.1 - straight to France! The lucky sod was grinning all the way as his B.E lifted off, bound for the Channel.

We arrived at maybe quarter-past three, and upon excitedly piling out of the truck we were at once ambushed and snapped into an inspection line by a tough-looking Sergent Major, by the name of Brookings, who promptly took our names down in between frustrated ramblings about picnic baskets and aerial crashes, much of which went straight over our increasingly confounded heads. Happily for Jacky-boy and Switch-off, they were not subjected to Brookings’ unpleasant bawling for long, as a youthful Captain quickly arrived and saw them off in the direction of the Officers’ quarters. I, however, was stuck at the mercy of Brooking’s ramblings.

“Right, you,” he began, in an irritated tone, and gestured for me to follow. ‘I should ‘ope that you know what yer’ doing, Sergeant! My men are gettin’ fed up of fixing up aeroplanes thanks to the like of you carefree young types”. I made to respond, but before I could the Sergeant-Major abruptly stopped and pointed ahead to a smattering of small white huts, at the northern end of the aerodrome. “This is you - first on the far left. Drop yer’ kit off and report to the Men’s mess in a half-hour’. And with that, he marched off at a wicked pace, kicking up white dust-clouds from the gravel path as he went.

As I later discovered, I shared my hut with two other men, both of No. 20; Sgt. Pilot Edmund Archer, a well-mannered painter from Shropshire, and Sgt. Pilot Jim Reynard, a tough-looking Scotsman with an incredible head of wiry, bright red hair. Both men were my seniors, and at first I felt intimidated, but I soon discovered my two compatriots to be perfectly friendly and welcoming. I rather enjoyed the juxtaposition of the quiet, softly-spoken Archer and the exuberant Reynard. In the far-right corner, a fourth bed remained ready-made, awaiting an owner.

Netheravon is an incredible place, much larger than Hounslow. There are all-sorts here, Canadians, Kiwis, Australians, Scots, Irishmen, and even an American or two, I hear! There are also all kinds of aeroplanes here; Avros, DeHavs, B.E’s, and, of course, our F.E.2bs, or ‘Fees’, as Archer and Reynard call them! I saw one fly overhead as I was going about my business, and cannot wait to have my chance at flying one!

I met my C.O today, Major Wilson. After inspecting my file, he informed me as to the organisation of the squadron. At the moment, we had eight Fees, and four B.E.2s, divided between 14 pilots and their observers. As Jacky-Boy, Switch-off and I were the ‘new boys’, we’d be on the B.E.2s, I was disheartened to learn! However, my spirits rose considerably once I found out that this would only be until we reached France, and that I would still be able to fly the Fees as time allows.

Last edited by Wulfe; 12/27/18 06:39 PM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4455081 - 12/27/18 11:58 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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loftyc Offline
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27.12.15
Fldwbl. Karl Arnt Lofthoven reporting.

Last week Hauptmann Boehm directed me to fly to another field and return. He originally said at least an hour away, but since the choices were either nearby Dusseldorf or else all the way to Berlin, he waived the time stipulation for Dusseldorf. The thing was, though, that when I landed, I very briefly hit the engine kill switch by reflex. I turned back on in time for the engine to keep running, but when I returned to Koln, Herr Boehm only signed my logbook for the time there and not also for the return leg. I argued that it wasn't even a blip, but he merely said "Nein," and walked away. Penalty for the closer aerodrome?

Well, next up, Herr Hauptmann directed me to go up and do "aerobatics." In the Aviatik. And he kept a straight face. So, off we went. I figured also to see if I could get up to 10,000 ft. I flew due east for about 20 minutes, and then headed back due west, simply climbing all the way. Imagine my surprise when my inner sense let me know that indeed we were at 10,000! If it could do that, maybe it was better than I was thinking, so I warned Herr Boehm and tried a roll. Actually just about made it, too!. In for a pfennig, in for a mark as they say, so I put the nose down (a feat in itself!) and as fast as I dared, I pulled back (actually, held the stick neutral) and would you believe that the crate just about flopped over in a loop. Will miracles never cease?! Of course, on the ground, Herr Hauptmann berated me for the sloppiest roll and loop he had ever seen. But I was ready for him: I pointed out that the real aerobatics were on the way out, during which time I flew in a straight steady climb, the whole time using one hand to drink a cup of coffee. Truly, with that plane, a masterful demonstration of airmanship. You've heard of the "Immelman turn?" I'm thinking of calling what I did the "Lofthoven Line." He stared at me without blinking, but in the end he signed my book before walking away.

I've heard that I will go with Herr Hauptmann sometime in the next few days to FFA 10 in Habsheim. When I asked him if he was sure he wanted me as his Emil, would you believe he said "I would trust no other. Besides, no one else gets my sense of humor." I swear my mouth was hanging open long after he had turned and left.

#4455092 - 12/28/18 01:37 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Maeran Offline
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UK
I hope everyone had a good christmas. We are nearly at the begining of active service on the campaign. I am looking forward to it!

Here is the next installment of Stanley's training.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


"Last week a poor soul fell out."

The comment made in passing by the woman outside the aerodrome haunted Stanley's thoughts. How had he fallen out of an aeroplane? What stunting manoeuvre could throw a pilot to his death? A loop?

William Stanley had been dared to loop and he was not the sort of man to go back on a bet, but he was haunted by the mental image of a body falling through the air. Arms and legs flailing helplessly.


As it was, bad weather stopped flying for a few days. Instead, students were subjected to lectures that bored William tremendously. He was sure that the engineers found the principles behind aeroplane propellers interesting, but he was a man of action and cared only that the spinning fan did its job. Lectures on the principles of reconnaisance were better, to Stanley's mind. Of course, much of it was familiar ground from his days in the cavalry, but the clues to look out for differed in the air.


If the weather should prove flyable, pilots who had completed conversion at Doncaster were mainly engaged in cross country flights. Using a map, and commonly a pocket Bradshaw guide, the intrepid young fliers would try to travel from one destination to another. This was to gain experience in flying hours and practice the navigational skills that Stewart had half listened to in lectures.

On one occasion Stanley resolved to fly north east to the coast near Hull. The reason for his choice was simple; the navigation was very easy. The river Don flowed north to meet the Ouse at Goole, just before the confluence of the Ouse and the Trent formed the Humber estuary. So long as you could see the rivers, anyone could find their way.

As his BE2 rattled its way above scattered clouds, William reflected on the loop. He reasoned that it would be better to practice out here, away from the instructors' disapproving gaze.

So it was that a BE2 came to be stunting over the Humber estuary.

Stanley's first attempt at a loop led to nasty feeling stalls as he failed to bring the aeroplane over fast enough. The nose suddenly dropped and Stewart was scared that the BE2 might spin, but the biplane was highly stable and recovered quicker than even the gentle Shorthorns at Reading.

The next attempt slipped out to the side as he failed to correct with the rudder. But after a while, Stanley was able to bring his aeroplane around on the vertical plane after a starting dive. He couldn't be sure if it looked good from the ground but it felt exhillarating to come back to level flight again in a controlled manner.

A few days after the trip to Hull, Stanley sent Barnstaple to inform the student pilot who had challenged him to make a loop that he should watch Stanley's flight with interest.

As he circled the aerodrome at three thousand feet, Stanley hoped that he had a good audience. "And I hope that I don't give that woman anything to talk about," he added.

Starting with a short dive for speed, Stanley pulled up in a series of zooming climbs. After warming up in this fashion, he dived again to begin a spiralling corkscrew known as the side somersault.

After this first stunt, Stewart righted his aeroplane and flew level for a little while before coming back around to fly over the aerodrome once again. He dived.

With a steady pull back on the stick and his feet gently holding position on the rudder, William Stanley pulled his BE2 into a climb that grew steeper until the machine was inverted.

[Linked Image]

Stanley felt an increasingly familiar shift in weight as the g-forces battled with natural gravity for his soul. He pulled back on the throttle to stop the engine racing and the BE2's nose came down again, completing the circle and winning its pilot £50.

William Stanley was rather pleased with himself.


On the ground student pilots applauded and slapped Stanley on the back in congratulations. Ground crew shook their heads at the wanton risk being taken with their precious aeroplanes.

Moller took Stanley one side after things died down. William thought he was in for a dressing down.
"Not bad," the instructor admitted. "You need to ease off the stick near the top of the loop in order to get a good circle. What you did was more like an egg shape. Still, not bad."
"Oh? Thank you sir." Stanley was a little surprised by this advice.
"So good in fact," Moller continued, "that I think that you can take part in a Doncaster tradition."
"What would that be sir?"
"Glad you asked. As you know, there is usually a gaggle of civilian onlookers on flying days. We like to give them something to talk about, so every now and then we shove a dummy out of an aeroplane." The instructor saw the look on Stanley's face. "A tailor's dummy. We dress it up in flying gear. When it lands we make a big fuss, send the ambulances over quick so nobody sees. Good show all round!

"Anyway, it takes a bit of skill to drop a mannequin close enough to be seen but not so close as to give the game away. Are you up for it?"


#4455169 - 12/28/18 05:05 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC


Reported in to 4 Sqn, The unit is UN-tidy with equipment pouring in, but not organized as yet. Only 2 pilots so far no observers or Tents. We are packed into a farms Barn on cots til the rest of the baggage arrive. Another problem is that for an Rfc Sqn there are No Aircraft just 2 trucks and a 75mm cannon some unit left and 3 en-field rifles with no ammo. On the up side, we do have a lot of bacon and eggs for meals.

Last edited by carrick58; 12/28/18 05:12 PM.
#4455244 - 12/29/18 02:24 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

Another very enjoyable group of stories to go with my morning coffee, thank you all for sharing.

2nd Lt. Swanson managed to finish up his training at Netheravon despite nearly a week of foul weather leading up to Christmas that grounded all flights. Two days ago he was informed that he would be assigned to 3 Squadron, flying the Moranes. He cringed a bit at this, having heard horror stories about how terrible a mount it was going up against the latest Hun machines. However, being a relatively easygoing sort, he quickly took the news in stride. Swany packed his kit and was sent to Dover where, yesterday morning, he was told to shuttle a new B.E.2c across to the depot at St. Omer. It was a beautiful winter's day and he took to the air shortly before noon. All was going as planned until about midway over the Channel when the engine in his mount developed a miss and a short time later began spitting oil out against the forward cockpit glass. Fortunately Swany had just better than 5,000' of altitude and a helping wind and was able to nurse his bus across and land on the beach some miles west of the St. Inglevert aerodrome. Had it not been for the kind winds he would have had to ditch in the water. After a walk through the French countryside and a number of phone calls a truck and crew were sent from St. Inglevert to pack up the B.E., and Swany is now at the aforementioned aerodrome waiting for his bus to be mended, at which point he will continue on to St. Omer. All this excitement and he hasn't even met the enemy yet.

Lifting off from the field at Dover.
[Linked Image]

Watching the city and the white cliffs slip away below.
[Linked Image]

Waving goodbye to England.
[Linked Image]

Engine trouble at a most inopportune time.
[Linked Image]

The French coastline in sight.
[Linked Image]

Hoping and praying the winds continue to help and the engine holds.
[Linked Image]

Tensions lifting as the turn is made to land on the beach.
[Linked Image]

Hello France! Thank God I'm seeing it with dry boots.
[Linked Image]

.

This really was a white knuckle flight for me as I've only ever made one water landing in WOFF in which I survived. There were some tense minutes where I was quite sure I was going to lose Swany before even getting him to France.

.

#4455257 - 12/29/18 05:33 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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lederhosen Offline
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Germany
Must say that the ferry mission is one of the best anyone can fly.


make mistakes and learn from them

I5 4440 3.1Ghz, Asrock B85m Pro3, Gtx 1060 3GB
#4455264 - 12/29/18 06:22 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Hasse Offline
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Yikes, now that was a scary flight, Lou! Glad to see your pilot made it safely across. skyisfalling

Fortunately the Huns don't suffer from ferrying problems! smile2

Julius's first proper story chapter is ready. It became longer than I had expected, but I promise to write shorter ones in the future, once he gets to his squadron. I imagine Raine the Dungeon Master will soon inform me which unit that will be. smile


1. THE BEGINNING.

"Undoubtedly this is the most stupid, senseless and unnecessary war of modern times. It is a war not wanted by Germany, I can assure you, but it was forced on us, and the fact that we were so effectually prepared to defend ourselves is now being used as an argument to convince the world that we desired conflict."

- Crown Prince Wilhelm (1914)

[Linked Image]

Wednesday, December 29th, 1915. Leipziger Strasse, Berlin.

Julius Schreck stood on the sidewalk and watched the massive building of the Prussian Ministry of War across the street. It was the middle of the week and the streets were full of people going about their business. Nobody paid any attention to a lonely, short man wearing an army uniform. Julius was on his way to meet his father Georg, who was an Oberstleutnant in the Prussian army and currently the Chief of the Technical Office of Artillery in the War Ministry.

“No reason to delay the matter”, Julius thought and quickly crossed the street. He arrived at the gate of the ministry building, where he was stopped by a bored-looking guard. “Papers, please!” Julius showed the guard his documents. “I have a meeting with Oberstleutnant Schreck in the Artillery Department.” The guard took a quick look both at the papers and Julius and then nodded, apparently satisfied by what he had seen. “Very well, Herr Offizierstellvertreter. Do you know the way?”

“Yes, I’ve been here before.” The men saluted each other and Julius entered the building.

The corridors of the War Ministry were no less busy than the streets of Berlin. Officials of all ranks and stations wandered about, many of them carrying files and briefcases undoubtedly full of important documents. Sounds of telephones ringing and typewriters clicking filled the background. Julius didn’t want to be late from the meeting (his father was a very punctual man), so he hurried to the next floor where the artillery offices were located.

A long hallway opened from top of the stairs in two directions. A few chairs and benches were placed next to office doors. Some people were sitting on them. Julius paid no attention to them and checked his pocket watch: it was 8.50 AM. He still had ten minutes left, but nevertheless he hurried along the hallway towards the office of his father. The corridor opened into a large open space that was crowded with several writing desks and their assorted paraphernalia. A few clerks were at work there, but Julius had no interest in them. He turned left to his father’s office. The Chief was important enough to have his own secretary, and it was this person Julius now wished to see before meeting his father.

A pretty brown-haired woman with a heart-shaped face was sitting behind a desk that was placed opposite the door leading to the office of Oberstleutnant Schreck. It was the only desk there at the end of the hallway. A few chairs lined the walls, but they were empty. The woman was looking at an open file with a slight frown on her face when Julius approached her.

“Good morning, Leni!”

The woman looked up from her papers and smiled when she saw Julius.

“Good morning, Julius! You made it in time!”

“Of course! The Schreck family is the very model of punctuality”, Julius said with a smile.

“Indeed! And you are also known for your hard work”, Leni continued and nodded at the door with a knowing look on her face.

Julius lowered his voice a bit and glanced at his father’s office. “Does he even leave the room anymore? I’ve heard he’s been working harder than usual, if that’s even possible, because of the Turkish situation.”

“You’ve heard right. I don’t know where he gets all his energy! He’s exhausting the younger staff officers. One of them told me he’d have an easier time at the front - and he wasn’t joking!”

“Good old father! Has he been hard on you too?” Julius asked with a concerned voice.

“No, not at all like on his officers. Actually he’s quite nice towards all the ladies here. But of course we all have to work long days, with this little war being fought and everything.”

Their conversation came to an abrupt end when the door opened. Two men with bushy mustaches stepped out of the room. They were both wearing uniforms of the Ottoman army. Julius saluted the officers who departed without speaking a word. They had left the door open, probably on his father’s request.

“It’s nine o’clock”, Leni said with a quiet voice. Julius nodded without looking at her. Then a big man appeared in the doorway - Oberstleutnant Schreck.

“Julius, good, please come in!” Julius did as his father requested and stepped into the office. Georg closed the door, turned around, looked Julius in the eye for a while (it was a piercing gaze) and then gave his hand for his son to shake. Julius felt intimidated by his father’s presence. He had always been a small and thin boy, quite unlike his father who resembled a heavy-weight wrestler with his thick neck and hands like the paws of a grizzly bear. The elder Schreck was clean-shaven with a bald head. A row of ribbon bars decorated the left breast of his uniform, along with the Iron Cross, 1st class.

“It is good to see you, father. Sadly my time in Berlin is short. I’m to report at the Butzweilerhof field in Cologne on the last day of the year. It’s funny - I don’t even know where they are sending me! But my training is now complete, so I imagine any regular two-seater unit will do. I’ll just have to follow orders and everything will be fine, just like you told me!” Julius realized he had started talking more and faster than he had intended, so abruptly he stopped.

“Good, good. I knew you would make a fine pilot, so I never hesitated writing that recommendation for you”, Georg spoke and then moved over to his desk. “Your brother has been doing great deeds. He was recently awarded the Hohenzollern Order, and he’s now leading a company of his own.” The Oberstleutnant clearly sounded proud of Hermann's achievements.

“Yes, I know. He wrote to me about it. We correspond regularly, or at least as often as the war allows. They’ve been having some tough fights against the French this year.” Julius stood looking at his father, almost at attention.

“Now you will have your own chance at glory! But don’t take any unnecessary risks. A wise soldier knows when to fight and when to stay out of trouble.” Georg turned around and directed his piercing gaze again at Julius.

“I will do my best, father. We have been well trained by our instructors. So I’m not worried about the future.” Julius felt the whole discussion was very awkward. But that was always the case with his father.

“Quite, quite. Well, I don’t wish to delay you unnecessarily long here. And I do have a lot of work at hand! You may know that a British force is under siege at a town called Kut in Mesopotamia! The Turks have a chance at striking a heavy blow against our common enemy there. But they require lots of support from us, especially in matters of heavy equipment. Those two gentlemen you saw a minute ago are actually working with me on improving their artillery."

“Yes, father. I pray for our success.” Julius couldn’t think of anything more intelligent to say.

“Well, then. Before you go, I have a little something for you here!” Georg opened a drawer on his desk and took out a book bound in black leather, which he then proceeded to give to his son. Julius accepted the gift and looked at it. Written on big golden letters was the name of the book and its author:

HIMMELSGEDANKEN
Gedichte von Karl May


It was a book containing poems by Karl May. Julius opened the cover and looked at the first page. On it was written a dedication: “With Best Regards to Hauptmann Georg Wilhelm Schreck. Karl May, June 15, 1905.” Julius was stunned. His father had given him a book by his favourite author, and it was even signed by May himself!

“I do hope you like it! I bought it back in 1905 and had May sign it for me at the bookstore.”

Julius collected himself and politely thanked his father. The older man seemed pleased by his reaction, allowed himself an uncharacteristic smile, and then escorted his son to the doorway - surprisingly gently, as confused Julius thought.

“Good luck! Remember to write regularly about your adventures!”

“Thank you, father. I will, father.”

***

Leni gave a puzzled look at Julius. “What happened? You seem like you just saw a ghost!”

Julius shook his head. “No, it’s really nothing. I was just surprised by my father”, he said and showed the book to Leni.

“Well, you’ll have to tell me all about it tonight then!” Leni said and flashed a conquering smile at Julius.

“I will, dear Leni. I will!”


"Upon my word I've had as much excitement on a car as in the air, especially since the R.F.C. have had women drivers."

James McCudden, Five Years in the Royal Flying Corps
#4455302 - 12/29/18 10:17 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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MFair Offline
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Wonderful writing gents. I have just been through all the stories but will have to give them another read to absorb them all. Lou, you gave me a fright there Hoss!

Jericho is in France with No3. I will start from there when I get home.

I have been in the woods pretty much since thanksgiving. Home before Christmas Eve and left to come back the day after Christmas. Fulfilling a life long dream since retiring. Boy howdy do I have a wonderful wife! But she does have her limits and I will be back home tomorrow.

Looking forward to this here upcoming rodeo! I hope you all had a Merry Christmas and blessings for the coming New Years.

Mark


Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end.
BOC Member since....I can't remember!
#4455352 - 12/30/18 05:11 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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77_Scout Offline
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Vancouver Island, Canada
Aleck A. MacKinlay
December 29, 1915

I have been in St. Omer for several days now, at the No. 1 Aircraft depot. What an amazing hub of activity; repair shops and supply buildings bustling with activity and lots of aircraft buzzing in and out on ferry flights and pilot refresher flights.

I am stuck here in what they call the 'Pilot Pool' awaiting assignment to an active squadron. Any day now!

The trip over from Dover was slow, but thankfully I was not stuck on a troop ship with a bunch of regular army sods. The quartermaster at the Dover Marine Station had the good sense to note that a shipment of two Be2c's (in pieces) were on their way to St. Omer accompanied by two mechanics and suggested I travel along. It worked a charm as I had ship and lorry service right to my destination. The one mechanic was a rather dull sort, mostly interested in gambling and booze, but the second chap was quite sharp about aeroplane mechanics and motorcycles so we had some good conversations.




Attached Files Be2c.jpg
Last edited by 77_Scout; 12/30/18 05:18 AM.
#4455450 - 12/31/18 12:50 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Maeran Offline
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UK
Ace_Pilto I get the impression that Drongo Drummond is goinng to be quite a character.

I've got two more stories planned for Stanley before the campaign proper starts. Here is a very heavily disguised bombing training mission.

Historical note: they really did drop a dummy from a plane every now and then at Doncaster for the benefit of public onlookers. It was also a tradition to dare trainee pilots to do a loop soon after arrival for advanced training.


----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The dummy was based on a tailor’s mannequin, but previous drops had knocked it out of shape so much that Stanley felt that he was looking into the face of a scarecrow. He was flying at 4000 feet with the dummy sat in the observer’s position in front of him. Unlike a normal observer, the dummy was slumped over the faring between the seats in such a fashion that Stanley could pull it back and over the side in relative safety.

While circling, Stanley decided that the best area to drop would be the northern edge of the landing field. The buildings, and with them most of the people on the ground, lay along the main road on the southern edge of the field.
“Here goes,” Stanley said aloud to no-one in particular and reached around the windshield into the icy blast of the propeller.
It wasn’t as easy as William had hoped. The aeroplane lurched and diped worryingly as he leaned forward to tug and pull the stuffed flying coat into position. Once all was ready, Stanley looked again at his position. He was well off to the right now. He had to circle around again.

When he judged the line of flight to be right he held the BE2 steady until the aerodrome passed under the front of his lower wing. With a last haul the dummy toppled out on the cockpit and down into space.

William Stanley breathed a deep sigh of relief when he saw that it had not clipped his tail on the way out.
The body fell away, arms and legs waving in a hauntingly realistic fashion. Stanley knew he would have nightmares tonight. He saw that it was going to miss itstarget, but would instead drop into the farmer’s field beyond the aerodrome.
“Good enough for now,” Stanley thought, “but if I were dropping a bomb it would be a poor show.”

“Well done. That looked good,” Moller grinned as Stanley climbed out of the lande BE2. “You really made it look like you were i distress before the drop, what with all the wobbling.”
“I didn’t do that on purpose,” Stanley objected.
“Well don’t tell anyone that old boy.”

Barnstaple found Stanley packing his valise bak at Lonsdale’s house.
“Hullo Barnestaple. I’m off for Christmas. I have leave and I’’m taking advantage of being in England. Lord knows when I’ll be able to spend another Christmas with my family.”
Barnstaple looked glum, “don’t I know it. I haven’t been so lucky, but perhaps I can pop home at some point. Have a good Christmas then.” He offered a hand, which Stanley shook.
“And you too,” Stanley replied. “I hope you get to see your parents. Do look me up in France won’t you?”

Last edited by Maeran; 12/31/18 12:54 AM. Reason: spacing. I have a new keyboard for my mobile phone and I'm still learning to use its layout
#4455557 - 12/31/18 09:18 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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77_Scout Offline
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Vancouver Island, Canada
Aleck A. MacKinlay
Dec 31, 1915

Got word yesterday morning that I would be sent immediately to RFC-6 squadron. Was driven by motorcar east to Abeele airfield, arriving late-afternoon.

The place is a converted farm with two fields available for takeoffs and landings, separated by a roadway. Lots of barns and farm buildings converted to shops and hangers. Some of the senior officers are bunked in the old farmhouse, but I am currently billeted in a group of large tents set up in the lee of the south barn. Bloody cold and hopefully soon to move into more permanent lodgings.

Spent the day today getting oriented. We have 14 active pilots and an equal contingent of observers. The squadron has a mix of aeroplanes; the two senior Captains are flying Bristol Scouts, seven or so Lieutenants are flying FE2b's, and five lower ranking pilots (including myself) are flying BE2c's.

I have just met my assigned observer; a 2nd Lewwy by the name of Chris Bathurst. He is an older fellow (27 years old!) with 32 missions under his belt. Word has it that he is "an average observer but lucky". I think I have lucked out to have such an experienced and steady obs/gunner to work with. A little luck is exactly what I need as I have been told to expect my first official active flight soon.

Tomorrow I will be flying, but the CO has restricted me to a few circuits around the airfield so he can assess my skills.


Last edited by 77_Scout; 12/31/18 09:32 PM.
#4455563 - 12/31/18 09:46 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Back from Christmas break. Looks like everyone kept themselves occupied.

31 December, 1915
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux
Somewhere between Marseille and Paris

Gaston was sitting in the train compartment taking him back to Paris. His pass has nearly expired and he had to get back to Le Bourget to obtain his transfer orders. He was finishing the last piece of far breton that Violette had made for him before his departure and was now occupying himself by looking through the window and enjoying the vistas going by.
He had a wonderful Christmas with his wife and his children. Giselle had grown so much since his last visit and Bernadette followed him everywhere asking all sorts of questions. Girls are so inquisitive. Both girls asked for a little brother for Christmas. After not seeing Gaston for such a long time even his wife was warming up to the idea after the children went to bed. Gaston had to be firm and agreed to discuss it further AFTER the war.
When will he see his family again? Will he ever see them again?
Gaston flicked off the last of the crumbs from his uniform and adjusted his armband that displayed the pilot’s brevet. He was still getting used to it and the looks the ladies were giving him. By Gaston’s estimate the train will not arrive at its final destination for another few hours. Just enough time for a nice nap. When the train stopped at the Paris station, Gaston was refreshed and ready for the final leg of his journey. Outside of Gare de Lyon, among the usual turmoil and bustle where everyone appeared to be lost, Gaston was able to hail one of the famous Parisian taxis to take him to Le Bourget.
It was difficult to see the road with the thick flakes of snow coming down all around. The taxi driver was an army veteran and the eyepatch he was wearing on his left eye betrayed his inability to serve. Hugo, the taxi driver had an opinion just about everything. The man would not stop talking. As long as his Renault was in motion, so was his mouth. Gaston was certain Hugo was related to his neighbour - Mme Ponsardin, the only other person he knew afflicted by such advanced case of oratory diarrhea.
By the time the car stopped at the gates to the aerodrome, Gaston had been subjected to Hugo’s rants about his wife’s venereal disease and he couldn’t get out of the taxi fast enough. He gave Hugo a fistful of Francs and left as fast as he could without slipping and falling on the iced over path covered by fresh powder. He pretended not to hear Hugo yelling after him that he gave him too much. As far as Gaston was concerned, it was money well spent.
The snow was now coming down harder in large flakes sticking to his nose, eyebrows and his moustache. It crunched underfoot and by the time Gaston reached the barracks he was covered in a thick, white coat. It looks like no one will be flying out on the New Year’s day.

[Linked Image]

Happy New Year to All!

Attached Files Train Station.JPG

"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."
#4455569 - 12/31/18 10:14 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
4 Sqn Rfc.


Jan 1916

I say, More supplies. 1 wagon of Tin Hats and Raincoats and shoes and another of Tools, 303 ammo, Revolvers 32 cal. and Tins of corn beef. a few Veg's Bread( but it was stale ) and Dark Rum for our 2 spoon daily ration. along with the rest of the ground crews with Rigging equipment. I appropriated the Tins of the Corn Beef and some Tea and went to the farm down the road and traded for Milk and Cheese. I do say nice neighbor.

Attached Files article-2420949-1BD4C6CD000005DC-127_634x723  maid.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 01/01/19 02:31 AM.
#4455598 - 01/01/19 02:56 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Wulfe Offline
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Everybody's stories continue to inspire - excellently written, by all! I only hope I can keep up wink

Sgt. Graham A. Campbell
No. 20 Squadron R.F.C,
Netheravon, England.

January 1st, 1916.


The year has begun with snow blanketing the now-silent Netheravon. Through the window of the Sergeants’ mess, I have spent the first hours of my morning trying to penetrate with my gaze the thick wall of sleet that is whipping around angrily outside, beating at the doors to be let in. Early this morning Major Wilson assembled No. 20 and told us that there would be no flying done today - not that we needed to be told! I can scarcely imagine any aeroplane being able to fly in such unfavourable situations.

Jimmy Reynard had suggested that we attempt to procure one of the few motorcars scattered around the aerodrome and head into Salisbury, but, as Archer pointed out, the fierce winter frost in this time of year was treacherous, and often concealed obstacles ahead, and lay traps of invisible ice on roads; It was no friend to drivers and pilots, alike. So, instead, I strained my eyes into the snow and allowed my mind to wander, as Reynard busied himself loading his pipe, and Archer sat down with an Army notebook, sketching aeroplanes. As it turns out, Archer is quite the artist, and our quarters have slowly been decorated by thumb-tacked drawings of his.

Over the last few days, when the weather would allow, pilots have already started departing for France, and their assigned squadrons. The last pilots to have gone were Netheravon’s two resident Americans, Swanson and Jericho, who were bound for No. 3 Squadron. Rumour has it that No.3 are on Moranes. I do not envy them; The Morane Parasols look rather slow and unstable in the air, and every time I see one fly I am fearful that it will suddenly spin, as the poor No.29 pilot did back at Hounslow Heath.


It seems that we of No.20 will be in Blighty a little longer, but Cpt. Bistow, one of our observers, has let slip that we are soon to be bound for France ourselves, and war! According to Bistow, our four B.E.2s are to be replaced by F.E.2s upon our arrival. Jacky Boy, Switch-off and I are terribly excited at this news! A few days ago I met my Observer, Ken Edith, for the first time. To my astoundment, it is a Captain that I shall be ferrying across the skies of France! How amusing that I, a mere Sergeant Pilot, should be leading a Captain into battle! That being said, the broad-shouldered Scot seems completely impartial to rank, a rare trait for a British officer, and I have seen him more than once helping the engine-fitters to carry out their work in the aeroplane hangars and workshops. Edith comes from Evanton, a sleepy little town on Scotland’s Eastern coast, not too far from the Cromarty Firth. As he was happily telling me on our first meet, as a youth he would frequent the Fyrish Monument, from which there is a terrific view of the Firth and, on clear days, the looming, ominous hulk of Ben Wyvis can be seen in the distance.

The snow is falling ever-heavier. I fear that we may not be flying again for a while, and it seems to me that the weather may be sympathising with the Hun! By any means, it will not be long until we are in France, and Captain Boyd, or ‘Taffy’ as we know him, has already begun taking wagers as to which crew will shoot down a Hun first.




Last edited by Wulfe; 01/01/19 02:57 AM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4455625 - 01/01/19 12:34 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Ace_Pilto Offline
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Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha
1 January, 1915

No rum, no streamers. Not even a firecracker. Just waves and waves and behind them, more waves trying to get past all the other waves. Drummond was sick of it. He was beginning to wonder if he shouldn't have simply let the troopers catch him and put him in goal. Some New Year this was turning out to be. Some of the troops and crew had started a feeble sing-song but it was too cold and they broke up after a few rounds of "Auld Lang Syne" to resume playing cards, trying to sleep in their ridiculous hammocks or just sitting together, huddled, speaking in low murmurs and staring out of the portholes while thinking of home.

The Omrah was approaching the Western tip of Spain according to the crew and Drummond had elected himself as an unofficial ship's lookout. He was quite keen to see something other than water since he'd been deprived of such amusements for longer than he cared to recollect. The ship had put out from Capetown a week or so ago. Was it a week? Drummond had lost track of time in the general malaise of being at sea and had assigned himself a routine of "duties" to prevent himself from going mad. First thing in the morning he took some exercise with the troops on board, they were fairly good natured about allowing him to join in and nobody paid any attention to him as he did jumping jacks, push ups and ran the length of the deck several times before breakfast. After breakfast he helped clear up and, by the time that was done, it was almost time to begin preparing lunch. Breakfast was porridge, or gruel as Drummond called it. He hated the stuff. 'Lunch' was an optimistic word for the flesh of some horrible origin that the cooks scraped out of the many tins in the galley and heated to lukewarm temperature before serving it on hard tack. Dinner was more of the same, to be eaten with a cup of tea and a lime, or, if one was particularly fortunate, an orange.

In between meals Drummond kept watch.

The sun grew weaker as they sailed further north and Drummond shivered, it was unnatural being this cold in January, something ought to be done about it. A fluttering of wings startled him, some kind of sea bird had alit upon the railing and was cocking its head, eyeing Drummond knowingly.

"Well now, what news Mister Gull?" Drummond asked of it.

The gull pecked at something on the railing briefly before letting fly with a stream of excrement and flying off with a harsh cry.

"I suppose that about sums it up." Drummond nodded, watching the gull lazily glide away east. If only he had wings, he'd be shot of this damned tub before you could say "Jack Sprat" and that's a fact.

Last edited by Ace_Pilto; 01/01/19 12:47 PM.

Let's pretend I got the BWOC badge to embed here.

Wenn ihr sieg im deine Kampf selbst gegen, wirst schwer wie stahl sein.
#4455676 - 01/01/19 05:43 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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MFair Offline
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Mark Anthony Jericho
RFC3 Auchel/Lozinghem
January 1, 1916

Great stories Gents. Ace, it could have been worse for Drummond. He could have been down wind of the seagull! I knew it might happen but I was very disappointed to find all flights were cancelled

Jericho sat on his cot after putting a few more sticks of wood on the small stove to try and keep his humble abode warm. He had traveled many a mile to get to this point. After arriving at RFC3, today was to be his 1st real wartime flight, only to be told all flights were cancelled! He unloaded his prize Colt 45. He had given it to a friend in Canada and instructed him to send it to him in England once he knew where he would be. It caught up with him the day before he shipped over to France.

He had given his new machine a once over. He was not impressed with the Morane. It had to be the ugliest looking mount he had ever seen. The other pilots had warned him that it was not easy to fly and you had to keep your hand on her at all times. Also, he was told to be careful of the elevator as it was sensitive and would put you on your nose given half a chance. His observer, Captain Whorton seemed a fine fellow. He had flown 35 missions to date. Whorton was a quiet individual which suited Jericho just fine.

The weather had in a funk. He did not like sitting around. He put the 45 back in its shoulder holster and hung it near his cot. Reaching under his bunk he pulled out a book by Mark Twain. He had read Pudd'n Head Wilson before but decided he would give it another go. He lay back down on his cot and began reading.


Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end.
BOC Member since....I can't remember!
#4455711 - 01/01/19 10:05 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
4 Sqn Rfc.

1 Jan 1916.

At last everything is here. Paired off in to Observers and Pilots then the Maj ordered everyone up. I say it was crackers. Machines getting very close. Upon landing , the ADJ posted a few more flights as Training before going Operational on or about the 3rd. All we need now is Fuel, Bombs, Film, Ammo, and Maps !

Attached Files CFS3 2019-01-01 13-50-28-86.jpgCFS3 2019-01-01 13-51-32-16.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 01/01/19 10:06 PM.
#4455862 - 01/02/19 11:52 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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77_Scout Offline
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Vancouver Island, Canada
Aleck A. MacKinlay
January 2, 1916

My first flight has still not happened; two days of bad winter weather have kept everyone grounded. The C.O., Major Mills, called me in today for a quick chat. I get the idea he just wanted to assess the 'new man' and determine my level of training. He apologized for the dismal accommodations (tent!) and explained that the squadron has a slight excess of pilots at the moment in relation to barracks. Although he didn't say it specifically, I get the impression they were expecting me to fill the spot of a dead or injured pilot, but everyone has had the gall to stay healthy and alive due to quiet times at the front. Basically, I can expect to move into warmer quarters as soon as someone gets tagged by the Hun.

I was passed off to Captain Davis for some additional orientation regarding our situation at the front. He told me that most of the shooting will be on the ground ... we are the eyes of the artillery and will be spending lots of time ranging fall of shells around the Ypres salient. I asked about the likelihood being attacked by Fokkers but was assured that I would perhaps run into an Aviatik or two, but enemy single-seat scouts are rare and unlikely to be encountered. Plus, our two Bristol Scouts are available for escort duty so no need to worry. Seems quite reassuring!

#4455873 - 01/03/19 01:02 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Wulfe Offline
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Sgt. Graham A. Campbell
No. 20 Squadron R.F.C,
Netheravon, England.

January 2nd, 1916.


As we had suspected, there was no flying today again; England is still gently sleeping beneath the snow. Fortunately, the inclement weather seems to have passed us by, and so Jacky-Boy, Jimmy Reynard, Wallace Pearson and I headed into town, bartering a ride with one of the Batmen, who was being sent in to town to pick up food for the kitchen.

On the Salisbury High Road we stopped by a quaint, modest little place to have lunch, named the "Dorothy Cafe". Above the sign of the establishment hung a second sign that read "DAINTY TEAS", and I rather decided that it was my duty to test the boldness of this claim. The interior of the place was very homely; simple oak furniture was dotted around, eight-or-so tables, and in the corner sat an old dusty piano, nestled in behind a slow-burning fireplace. By the entrance was a large window, which was bracketed by deep red curtains, neatly swept to either side, and on the walls hung quaint little oil paintings of some of the landmarks of Salisbury. One particular paining was newer than the rest - an image of a B.E.2 flying over the town. Clearly, the cafe had become frequented by us R.F.C types! I wondered if perhaps an old regular, or an ex-owner had painted the pictures - they did all look of one style. Maybe, whoever they were, they still now painted pictures to pass the time in the trenches.

As we cheerfully greeted the owners, asking for our lunches to be served up, Pearson flopped down onto the piano stool and proceeded to play a delicately subtle rendition of "Keep the Home Fires Burning". By the window, a lone infantryman begun humming along to the tune, staring into his mug of tea while appearing to be half-lost in some private, deep thought. After the first two bars, a faint smile appeared on his lips but, for some reason, to me it seemed like an impossibly sad expression. I only lingered on the face of the tired infantryman for a moment, before my comrades' idle conversations dragged me back in, and we took the table closest to the piano.With Pearson still gently tapping away at the keys, we spoke of the typical subjects; Flying, the identity of the pilot who would shoot down 20's first Hun, and, of course, girls! Naturally, the latter subject led to some outrageous tales, by far the worst coming from Reynard, who told us some stories I dare not repeat, true scandals that stood on the edge of disbelief! During our idle chit-chat, Simon Sarisbury stepped through the door, with his observer, Kris Bistow. Jacky-Boy waved them over, and they pulled up a chair around our table. The loud scrapes of Bistow's chair dragging along were accompanied by a disproving frown from the lady who owned the Cafe - not that the roguish observer took any notice - as Sarisbury went up to the counter to procure their own lunch. Walking up with him, I ran a critical eye down the list of 'dainty teas', and finally went with a liquorice-flavoured beverage (much to the amusement of my colleagues), which I secretly enjoyed, all the while feigning displeasure at the drink. Needless to say, the tea was, in fact, an appropriate level of daintiness.

Finally, once our late-comers had lunched, we packed out of the Dorothy Cafe, all of us leaving small coins as tips for our hostess, who beamed at us and wished us good luck in France. Despite the piano falling silent again, I couldn't help but notice the infantryman now quietly whispering the lyrics of Keep the Home Fires Burning to himself, his voice quivering. "And we gave our glorious laddies, honour bade us do no less" he crooned in his pitiful, teary voice, his palm pressed to his forehead. The sleeve of his uniform bore three wound stripes.

Unfortunately for us, our Batman chauffeur was long gone, and so we walked to the outskirts of town to the conveniently placed Bicycle Depot, the owner of which was a forty-something year old hulking brute of a man, whose grey hair stuck out wildly from underneath a dirty flat-cap. We were happy to discover the man was a fierce patriot, and insisted in a booming voice that we borrow the bicycles for free in order to get back to the aerodrome. As we thanked him and turned to leave, he roared out "For king and country, boys! Go and get those godless Huns!". Jacky-boy rolled his eyes, and whispered to me "Says the bloke who isn't going to France!". Snickering, I mounted the red Raleigh bicycle I'd picked out, and off we went, back to Netheravon through the snow.

[Linked Image]
The Bicycle Depot.






Last edited by Wulfe; 01/03/19 03:57 PM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4455925 - 01/03/19 02:33 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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lederhosen Offline
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Germany
Willi arrived today at the front.
Nothing spectakular, Forstschwier flugplatz (east of Colmar) was only 30min flight.
Wetter has turned bad for the next 48hrs though.

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

Last edited by lederhosen; 01/03/19 02:35 PM.

make mistakes and learn from them

I5 4440 3.1Ghz, Asrock B85m Pro3, Gtx 1060 3GB
#4455958 - 01/03/19 08:13 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Jul 2014
Posts: 1,461
Raine Online content
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Raine  Online Content
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New Brunswick, Canada
Finally I’m back to WOFF and what a great load of stories to sort through. Fullofit, your pictures of the buffet at Gare de Lyon have me craving lunch. Mortuus, that was a close call on the loop. My guy’s CO told him he’s a soldier and not a daredevil and not to mess about doing those “twirly things.” Wulfe, I find your story really evocative of the period and like the feel of the sergeant’s mess as you describe it. You have a great cast of characters. How much is historical and how much is your creation?

Lederhosen, great pictures as always. I like the look of flying out of Freiburg. Good luck over the mountains now that you’re posted. Hasse, another masterpiece is in the making. I liked the scene with Julius’s father and am intrigued by the mysterious Leni. Ace_Pilto, I’m looking forward to seeing Drongo at the front. He seems like a real “larrigan,” as they say in Oz.

Loftyc, best of luck with Fw Lofthoven! And Carrick, maybe Lou can create an energizer bunny award for the most consistent contributor. MFair, does Jericho have plans for that .45?

Maeran, loved the mannequin drop! By the way, did you use William Fry’s Air of Battle as your source for Doncaster info? Lou, your cross-channel flight was a hair raiser. That’s next on Jim Collins’s agenda and I’m getting nervous. Hope to see you in France. Finally, 77_Scout, maybe I’ll meet you in St-Omer soon.

Last edited by Raine; 01/03/19 08:29 PM.
#4455965 - 01/03/19 09:02 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Me too Raine, It's "Larrikin" btw. You were close though, which is a good effort for a Canadian. Not many people are familiar with archaic Australian slang.


Let's pretend I got the BWOC badge to embed here.

Wenn ihr sieg im deine Kampf selbst gegen, wirst schwer wie stahl sein.
#4455969 - 01/03/19 09:17 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Should I choose a unit for my pilot myself or will you make the decision, Raine?

I was under the impression that the DID HQ would make the choice, but I may have misunderstood the whole thing.

Great to see so many stories posted in the thread! I will properly read them all in the weekend. cheers


"Upon my word I've had as much excitement on a car as in the air, especially since the R.F.C. have had women drivers."

James McCudden, Five Years in the Royal Flying Corps
#4455987 - 01/04/19 12:01 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Hasse]  
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Hasse,

That's my error. I should have sent it to you. Watch for a PM in the next hour.

#4455989 - 01/04/19 12:20 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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An Airman’s Odyssey – by James Arthur Collins

Part Seven: In which I sprout wings in ways reputable and otherwise


With each day, I became more confident with the BE. No longer did I have to check off in my head all the steps of the starting procedure. No longer was adjusting the mixture a conscious operation. The wind on one’s cheek, a change in the note of the engine’s hum, or a slight looseness in a control told me volumes and the machine simply responded to my thoughts. Perhaps, gradually, I was becoming a pilot.

My first cross-country came up on the 14th and I flew northwest in a frigid, cerulean sky over the downs, past the spires of Oxford, and picked up the shimmer of Draycote Water off to the west. I found Rugby and settled gently onto the small field at Lilbourne, just east of the town, where a superannuated recording officer noted my logbook and I returned to Netheravon, quite pleased with myself.

I’d developed a throaty cough and medicated it with whiskey and lemon. It’s an old family remedy. You place the lemon at the foot of your bed and open the bottle of whiskey as you lie down. When you see two lemons, you’re well again. This time, however, it didn’t work. Instead it developed into a bronchial infection and by the 16th I was ordered into the infirmary as the doctor feared it would develop into pneumonia. Fortunately, the weather turned bad again so I did not miss as much flying as I could have. It bothered me that Jerciho was already in France and Swaney was nearing the end of his training, while I had several more hours to put in.

Swaney visited several times, but it was a lonely Christmas. The infirmary was nearly empty as, I was told, most young pilots simply kill themselves and do not need long caring-for! The sleet drummed on the windows and the skeleton crew of attendants was preoccupied elsewhere. I read several poor novels and played chess with myself (losing badly every time). Finally, on the 27th, I was cleared to fly and in two days completed the remaining elements of my course, which included two mock bombing runs all the way to Thetford. My machine performed flawlessly and I added six hours to my logged time.

[Linked Image]
First night flight

On 28 December 1915 the day I’d been dreaming of arrived as Captain Hampton-Lewis strolled into the mess and informed those gathered about that Second Lieutenant James Collins was no longer provisional and had earned the right to put up his wings. He then informed me with a wink that, as I was not wearing the wings he had in his hand, I was improperly dressed and would have to buy a round for the officers present. Swaney, I learned, had received his wings that morning and was bound for France as there was an urgent need for pilots. In fact, he was already posted to No 3 Squadron – a Morane crowd. I ribbed him mercilessly and demanded he buy me a drink now for I was not likely to see him alive again. The Captain then informed me that I had been slotted for 3 Squadron as well, but because of my health another had taken my place.

I was sad not to be joining Swaney and Jericho at No 3, but happy that, unlike Swaney, I had been forced to forego my embarkation leave. So I was heading for London as a freshly-minted flying officer. And I was on my own until 3 January, when I was to report to Masons Yard [1] at 9:30 in the morning for further orders.

The train trip to Paddington was long and crowded. I shared a compartment with two majors and an outsized lady who snored. Quite full of myself, I opened my greatcoat enough to let the newly-sewn wings show. After a long time the balder of the majors leaned forward and peered at them.
“A pilot? Really? How old are you?”

“Nineteen, sir,” I replied.

“Damned foolish thing to do,” he said.

“Quite,” added his companion.

And so the rest of the trip passed in silence. Except for the snoring woman.

I took a taxi to Mayfair and booked myself into the Cavendish, because Captain Hampton-Lewis had recommended it and because it would be a short walk to Mason’s Yard on the 3rd, and I did not intend to be late. Being alone in a strange and wonderful city was a new experience and as soon as I was settled in, I went out and wandered about as in a trance. There was tea to be taken at Fortnum’s [2], and I found Hawkes & Co. on Savile Row, where I got measured for two proper tunics, breeches, and slacks.[3] The issued maternity jacket made me look like a Bohemian waiter. I dined alone at Wilton’s [4] and returned to the hotel to find a gay party underway, populated by RFC officers and beautiful young ladies and presided over by the Cavendish’s proprietress, the daunting Miss Rosa Lewis.

[Linked Image]
Rosa Lewis in 1914

I am not used to social occasions, and my experience with young ladies is negligible, but Miss Lewis had me smoking an actress’s Sobranies and learning the foxtrot within the hour. Of course, for the record, I retired later to my virtuous couch. Or that is what I’ll swear to.

I was determined to go to war comfortably and spent several hours in Dunhill’s pipe shop on St. James’s [5] and, just a few feet away, I discovered Berry Brothers, the wine and spirit merchants. There I first tasted the ginger cognac that they had devised for King Edward [6], and by the time I left I’d not only ordered a case (with the promise I’d wire them where to send it to me in France) but I’d secured the rights to sell the product in Canada through Collins’ Distillery. They were rather amused to hear of Collins Yukon Gold Whiskey, but declined the offer of a sample case. Their loss.

[Linked Image]
Berry Bros., 3 St James

Most evenings I joined some of the pilots from the hotel for dinner or shows. And before I knew it, the week was gone and I was sitting on a bench at Masons Yard. When my name was called I reported to a captain with one arm, saluted, and accepted a manila envelope with my orders and travel documents. I was to take the train to Farnborough, report by noon on the 4th, and ferry a BE2c to St-Omer where I was to report to the pilot pool.

Notes:

[1] The RFC despatch office off Duke Street.

[2] Fortnum and Mason, across the street from the Cavendish, has been a purveyor of fine foods since the 1700s.

[3] Hawkes (now Gieves and Hawkes) is still at 1 Savile Row.

[4] Wilton’s is a fine seafood restaurant that had its origin as a shellfish merchant in Haymarket in the 1740s.

[5] Dunhill’s pipes began as a motoring accessory, having been designed to be used in a stiff breeze.

[6] Berry Bros. & Rudd still sell the King’s Ginger, and it’s highly recommended!

Attached Files First night flight.pngRosa Lewis 1914.jpgBerry bros.jpg
#4456014 - 01/04/19 02:48 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Well done all.

#4456015 - 01/04/19 02:51 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
4 Sqn Rfc.
Allonville, Flanders


Jan 3 1916.


Snow, all flights cancelled. I spent most of my time going over area maps next to the pot belly stove to keep warm.

#4456043 - 01/04/19 01:51 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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A REMINDER FOR ALL DID CAMPAIGN PILOTS

Don't forget to check the Dot Visibility rule on page 1 of this thread and ensure your rookie pilots are appropriately short-sighted. The hours required to improve your air vision should be based on hours served on operations, not training or familiarisation, so please note your number of hours when you arrive at your squadron and make your calculations from there.

#4456060 - 01/04/19 05:06 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

Hasse, incredible introduction to Julius, super stuff.

Maeran, the dummy toss was brilliant, and a great bit of historical context. Well done.

Fullofit, another wonderful episode in Gaston’s tale. And the painting is superb.

Ace_Pilto, can’t wait to see how Drummond does when he gets to France. The man’s a character to be sure.

Mark, here’s hoping your pilot and mine can survive the Moranes.

Carrick, your pilots always seem to find the prettiest mademoiselles.

77_Scout, Aleck should not be too anxious to run into the Hun, it will happen soon enough.

Wulfe, Campbell’s reports are outstanding. Love all the historical bits being brought in.

lederhosen, great pics and report. And yes, those landing fields in the middle of the woods do look far too small.

Raine, great story, too bad though that Jim won’t be coming along to 3 Squadron. Good Lord willing his path will cross again with those of Mark and Swany.
.

I know it’s been said already, but the writing here has really been taken up several notches. It’s a treat to catch up every day. Now, if you will allow me the pleasure, I shall add my own bit to bring Swany somewhat up to date on his adventure.
.

January 4th, 1916
Auchel, France

Snow and ice and wind, four days straight of it, had 2nd Lt. Swanson feeling right at home in his new digs at No. 3 Squadron. He’d arrived in the small hours of the morning of the New Year, having missed nearly all the celebrations owing to the fact that he’d been bumping along in a tender from Saint-Omer since the night before. After shuttling his repaired mount from Saint-Inglevert to No. 1 Aircraft Depot late in the afternoon of December 31st, landing just as the snow began blowing about in earnest, he was informed that he was to proceed immediately to his new assignment. They were in desperate need of pilots and so time was of the essence. He had but a few minutes to grab a quick bite and a cup of tea and make a stop in the WC while his kit was being transferred from the front office of the B.E.2 to the back of the tender, after which he was off.

What should have been a two-hour drive took all night, due in part to the weather, but in larger part to the inexperience of his driver. The poor fellow, one Corporal Lewis, had no apparent sense of direction whatsoever, and was lost far more often than he was found. Add to this the fact that he seemed terrified to push the Crossley to a speed that might exceed a brisk walking pace. It was a god-awful ride. After countless wrong turns and seemingly endless detours Swany was beyond relieved when, seven hours after starting out, he and his kit were standing in the falling snow outside the door of the Officer’s Mess at Auchel. Offering a less-than-cordial wave good bye, Swany hoped he would never see Corporal Lewis or his wayward truck again as he watched both disappear into the wintery darkness.

The next four days found the entire camp snowed in, with all flights cancelled. It gave Swany time to settle into his new surroundings and to visit with the other American currently in camp, 2nd Lt. Mark Jericho. He already knew the fellow from Canada and Netheravon but they’d only had a passing acquaintance there, despite having a character like Jim Collins as a shared friend. It’s not that they’d been avoiding each other, it was just that they were always off in different directions. Now, however, they were sharing a hut, as the C.O. thought it a fine idea that the Yanks be kept together. And despite the fact that both Swany and Jericho were relatively quiet sorts, after several days with little else to do the two got to talking and realized they had more in common than simply their country of origin. They each enjoyed the outdoors, were quick to learn, and both were cut from a rugged cloth. In addition, the two men each enjoyed the works of Mark Twain, which was discovered when Swany was unpacking his gear and tossed onto his cot a dog-eared copy of “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court”. And perhaps most binding of all, they each found the other’s dialect downright funny; Mark with his southern Mississippi/Texas drawl, and Swany with his northern Scandinavian/Minnesotan/Canadian accent. The Brits in camp generally thought they both sounded odd.

.

#4456063 - 01/04/19 05:26 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Thanks, Raine & Lou! At the moment, the 'cast' are works of fiction, save for Maj. Wilson, who was 20's first C.O. I plan to write in some more historical characters as the story progresses!

Sgt. Graham A. Campbell
No. 20 Squadron R.F.C
Netheravon, England.

January 4th, 1916.


The snow continues to keep us grounded here in Netheravon, and no flying has been done whatsoever since the start of the New Year. On the one hand, the chaps are rather tired of the lack of activity, but I will say that we have been thoroughly enjoying our day-excursions to Salisbury.

Today, I decided to conduct my own inspection of the workshops on the Eastern end of the aerodrome. Maj. Wilson has been toiling day and night to prepare 20 for our eventual deployment to France, and, as a result, the men have been running around in a frenzy collecting deliveries, maintaining our engines, and stocking our inventory for the journey. As I arrived at the workshops, I saw Warrant Officer Billing ordering around a gaggle of corporals, who were carefully unloading three 160hp Beardmore engines from the back of a truck. The engines were to be taken over with us as spares, along with twelve additional Lewis guns and a handful of Sterling Wireless sets, that would be installed in our F.E's overseas. I have been enjoying the modest comforts of the Sergeant's mess while I can, as I have also seen fabric tents being unloaded from trucks yesterday - no more stone walls for us over there! Hopefully it is slightly warmer in France.

Speaking of - I wonder how our boys who have left already are doing! Teddie Lawson promised he would write us at Netheravon, but as of yet no word has come. His letters are probably sitting on some Censor's desk, being appropriately mutilated in case of interception by German Spies.

I found out from Pearson that the Major has, in fact, already seen service in France, with No. 5, and has been previously mentioned in Despatches and received a MC! Rumours have even spread among the men that he is the legendary "Mad Major" - the R.F.C airman that has been seen stunting over German lines in spectacular fashion, as well as strafing the hun trenches. But, that can't be true, for he was just a Captain during his time! I had noticed his speech impediment when I first reported to Wilson, but, again having found this out from Pearson, it turns out that this is not an ailment from birth - but, in fact, the result of a serious air crash in which he badly broke his jaw and fractured his skull, in 1914. Although it is an awful thing to think, I am glad that the Major had the smash. It makes him feel more like one of 'us' - that is, the air fighter - and less like the harsh Captains that I knew in my initial excursion into France with the Sherwood Foresters. I must admit, the constant cold has me worried that a second touch of pneumonia will scupper my second chance at reaching the war.

Grounded again! Hopefully we'll get this war underway soon, though wink

Last edited by Wulfe; 01/04/19 11:03 PM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4456064 - 01/04/19 05:41 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Aleck A. MacKinlay
January 4, 1916

Another day grounded with blowing snow; shows no sign of letting up. I spent much of the day keeping warm in the pilots room listening to the others talk, mostly about home. With Christmas passing and a new year of war just starting, everyone is feeling pretty low.

I got away to the relative quiet of the mess for a large part of the afternoon, to study my map of the local area. My army-issue map is excellent; a beautiful and colourful prewar bit of art from the Louvert Mapping Co. onto which some diligent soul has sketch the location of airfields, balloons, etc. I have always loved maps and getting to know my way around the area will be critical to my performance as a pilot.
http://SimHQ.com/forum/tmp/13141.jpg

Attached Files temp34.jpg
#4456068 - 01/04/19 06:53 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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An Airman’s Odyssey – by James Arthur Collins

Part Eight: In which I bid farewell to England, find France, and prepare to mount a killer machine

Mummy was a trifle out of sorts that I had not travelled to Cambridge to spend my leave sipping tea in her parlour with her friends and the vicar, but the wonders of the Cavendish Hotel’s social set and the theatres of the West End and the restaurants of Piccadilly and the Savoy Bar had somehow clouded my view, I suppose. Anyway, she and my sister Dorothy took the train to the city and I found them rooms at Brown’s Hotel, a short walk away. I’d lied to them that the Cavendish was fully booked. They would probably have been scandalized by the nightly revelry there.

I met them at Brown’s and took them to listen to de Groot’s orchestra and dine at the Piccadilly Hotel Grill Room.[1] Dorothy wanted to teach me the foxtrot and was suspicious when she found I already had learned a few steps. But gentlemen never tell...

[Linked Image]
"I met them at Brown’s and took them to listen to de Groot’s orchestra and dine at the Piccadilly Hotel Grill Room."

We hired a car and driver to take me to Farnborough early the next morning and Mummy and Dorothy went along to see me off. The trip took a little under two hours and the day was bright and unseasonably warm. There was time for elevenses at a café near the Royal Aircraft Factory. My mother put a brave front on it all, but I could tell she was sick with worry. Dorothy laughed and teased, but her nerves showed as well. For my part, I was itching to be off and quite insensitive to their distress. I assured them that flying was wonderfully fun and very safe, that the Hun scarcely bothered us, and that we would push the enemy out of France and probably Belgium by summer’s end. We parted at the café and I walked to the factory gates alone, looking back only once.

The aircraft I was to ferry to St-Omer was a BE2c equipped with a new type of wireless telegraphy unit, destined for operational trials. A middle-aged civilian electrical engineer named Salter was to accompany me in the forward seat. He’d spent the morning being shown the basics of the Lewis gun, as the machine was to be armed for the flight across the Channel.

We took off around 12:30 in the afternoon and climbed slowly to the east. My kit was stowed behind my seat and together with the slightly portly Salter, his kit, and a collection of electronic bits and pieces, the aircraft struggled for altitude in the crisp air. After an hour, Tonbridge and Tunbridge Wells slipped under my left wings and, with some of our petrol burned off, the machine edged past 7000 feet. I wanted to cross the Channel at 10000 feet if possible so that I would have the ability to glide a long way if we encountered engine problems. Salter made me laugh, for he was playing with the Lewis like a schoolboy shooting red Indians, only his foes were imaginary Fokkers. Of course, I couldn’t hear the fellow over the engine, but the frozen spittle on his moustache told me he was making the necessary machine gun sounds. He looked back at me with a broad smile and saluted.

We met the coast just west of Dover and turned southeast for France. The needle of the altimeter edged just past the number ten and I at last throttled back slightly and rechecked the mixture as the white cliffs of England disappeared into the haze behind. A few minutes later I estimated we were entering the danger zone – the part of the crossing where we should be too far from either shore to glide for safety. “Just ten minutes, Lord,” I thought. “Let the engine run for ten more minutes and we’ll be fine.”

The engine did its job, buzzing along smoothly as I searched the haze for some signs of the French coast. Nothing. I began to pray again. “Thanks for the ten minutes, Lord. Any chance you could tack on another five or ten minutes of smooth sailing? And sorry about the other night. God bless Mummy and Dorothy. And look after Dad.”

The sun was westering and shining on the water two miles below with blinding force. I thought I saw something and squinted into the glare. There it was again, a shimmering grey shadow dulling the glare. I watched as the streak turned from silver-grey to green with a white border of crashing foam. The shape of Cap Gris Nez emerged, by my estimate about eight miles off to my right.

[Linked Image]
"The shape of Cap Gris Nez emerged..."

We turned eastward and followed the coast until the smoke of Calais’ chimneys directed our way southeast, and from that point the shapes of large woods and the canals and main railway line guided us towards St-Omer. We approached the depot and airfield from the southwest and I searched for the section of field at which I’d been ordered to land. Salter had been here before and pointed at a row of hangars at the east end of the complex.

[Linked Image]
"Salter had been here before and pointed at a row of hangars at the east end of the complex."

There was a inspection parade underway at the west end of the field and I made a point of passing overhead about fifty feet off the ground and scaring the dignitaries’ horses (I was later to learn that the parade was a reception for General Henderson, who had arrived from England only a short while earlier this day). I reported to the OC Pilots’ Pool, a pleasant fellow with the imposing name of Lieutenant W.F.C. Kennedy-Cochran-Patrick, who said that I should find my hut, get settled, and report to the hangars to get familiarised with machines other than the BE2, because I might be posted to a squadron flying any type. In the mess, I also learned that I was lucky to have found St-Omer at all, because the day before there had been a major fire in the Depot's bomb stores. Only a courageous effort by the major commanding the stores had saved the place from going up. [2]

I did so, and found that besides the ubiquitous BE2, there were two Bristol Scouts, a lone FE2, and one of the dreaded Moranes, of the type familiarly called a “Parasol.” One of the sergeants helped me into a Bristol and was talking me through its peculiarities when Lieut. Patrick appeared and told me to “get down from there.”

“You’ll never see a Bristol,” he said. “There are a few, but only for the experienced men. Let’s try you out on a Morane.” I stared at the thing, which occupied the other side of the same hangar. Its single wide wing hung from a central mast above the fuselage, looking more like the roof of a shed than a flying surface. It took little imagination to see the bloody thing separate itself from the machine in a tight turn. The tail was the real killer, though. The Morane lacked a proper tailplane. Instead, the entire tail surface was an elevator that pivoted on a central rod so that as the rear edge went up, the front edge went down. “Be very gentle with the elevator,” Patrick warned. “It’s twice as sensitive as you’d think, and it doesn’t take much to throw the nose into the ground as you try to lift off. Oh, and the stick is short for a tall fellow like you, so keep a grip on the thing.” I noticed what he meant. One would have to be an orangutan to hold the stick comfortably.

To my great relief, it had begun to snow and the wind was picking up. Patrick swore under his breath and suggested I put off my first flight here until the morning. I would at least live another few hours.

NOTES

[1] David de Groot's Piccadilly Orchestra played the dining room of the Piccadilly Hotel throughout the war and the 1920s.

[2] Actually, Major Newall was the OC of 12 Sqn, based at St-Omer. He and a corporal broke into the storage shed and extinguished the flames, an action for which the Major received the Albert Medal. It is not known whether the corporal received anything other than burnt boots.




Attached Files de Groot.jpgCap Gris Nez.jpgArrival at St Omer.jpg
#4456092 - 01/04/19 10:07 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Lisbon, neutral Portugal. 05 January, 1915

Another day, another delay.

The Omrah had put into Libson, apparently German submarines were wreaking havoc on ships travelling into the channel and, in light of this, the captain had decided that a resupply and a few days in port were in order. Staring at the Portuguese city from the deck of the Omrah was even more torturous for Drummond than staring at the sea, Drummond had no identity papers or passport and, while the crew had been allowed ashore by the Portuguese authorities the contingent of troops, and Drummond, were required to stay aboard. Things weren't all bad though, each evening the crew came back with fresh food for the galley as the tins of mystery meat were getting low, due to the many delays that had hampered the voyage and Drummond had by now made friends with some of the troops, including a 2nd Lieutenant Drummond from Perth whom he had met on the voyage.

It turned out that they had more in common than a surname, the Lieutenant had also worked in a bank, owned by his father in Perth, and had joined the Australian Imperial Force in order to get away from the monotony of life as a clerk. Being from a well-to-do family 2nd Lt Drummond was able to secure a commission for himself in the army through his father's contacts and considered himself lucky to have been sent among the first Australian troops to France. His first name was Peter, he was a typically tall and tanned, blonde haired Westerner with an easy going smile and a dapper moustache that he took a lot of pride in maintaining. Peter had also taken to smoking a pipe in the hopes that, being only 22, this might make him seem more mature to the other men who weren't much younger than himself.

That night the crew had brought back a few bottles of Madeira and Drummond, Peter and the troops enjoyed some fresh oranges, spitted lamb and a healthy amount of the Portuguese wine, which none of them were accustomed to the strength of. Pretty soon their spirits were ebullient and they decided to start a Two up school.

Two up is a very simple game of chance. Two pennies are thrown from a wooden paddle called a 'kip'. The players place bets on whether the coins will land with either two heads, two tails or one tail and one head. Drummond still had a few of pounds from the sale of the horse he had stolen so he joined in the fun.

"Two tails." He called

Two tails came up. Drummond was mildly surprised. He'd never gambled before and the idea that he'd just doubled his money in a heartbeat was exhilarating.

"Let it ride, two tails." He said evenly, trying to contain his excitement. The men laughed, Drummond was mad to make the same bet twice but, as surely as the contrary nature of fortune is prone to behave in such circumstances, double tails came up again.

"Again, two tails"

"Drummond you crazy drongo, you'll never get two tails three times in a row." Peter cried, his cheeks flushed with grog, wreathed in pipe smoke. The men laughed, they were betting heavily against Drummond and, by the time they were ready for the next throw, he stood to win a small fortune.

"Go on then, we'll see. Come in spinner! Two Tails!"

The coins soared and spun through the air in an arc, landing with a tinny clatter on the deck. The men surged forward and huddled around them, showing each other to peer at the result. A wild cheer erupted. Drummond had converted his 5 pounds into just over fifty in only three throws! Fifty pounds was a lordly sum for most of them and Drummond, astounded at his good fortune, decided that he'd pushed his luck far enough. He slipped a couple of bob to one of the crew who'd remained behind for more refreshments, in order to be seen as being a good sport and because he felt slightly guilty at taking the other men's money. Drummond had won himself more than money though. More money than he'd ever had in fact. He'd also earned some new friends and a nickname.

Drongo

(Note: 'Drongo' is old fashioned Australian slang for 'fool' or 'idiot')

Last edited by Ace_Pilto; 01/04/19 10:09 PM.

Let's pretend I got the BWOC badge to embed here.

Wenn ihr sieg im deine Kampf selbst gegen, wirst schwer wie stahl sein.
#4456128 - 01/05/19 01:57 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
4 Sqn Rfc.
Allonville, Flanders

4 Jan : got off to the lines on recon today. It was suppose to be 2 a/c but the other ship wont fire up so Right O I went by me self. I must say, I didnt see much of anything but the pics did after being processed. Only 2 came out out of 10, But HQ was happy.

Attached Files article-2581167-1C48FA3100000578-368_964x802  tRENCH.jpg1394818314928_Image_galleryImage_Collect_aerial_photos_of_ TRENCHS ii.JPG
#4456146 - 01/05/19 11:14 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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lederhosen Offline
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Germany
Willi Rosenstein
FFA 9b
Colmar, Alsase


[Linked Image]

5 Jan 1916

Well that didn't go very well. I was supposed to fly an orientation flight from Munster to St.Die and back. I have been given the new, and only AV.C1 of the squadron and it let me down.
I just hope no one thinks I'm cursed and all that. Start was 12:20 with a full load of bombs although we were told not to get closer than 4km to the front. Weather was fine, for winter near the Alps!
We took off and climbed to 1600m over Colmar and started for Munster. 20min later and the oil pressure starts to drop. It all went so fast as our motor conked out on us 3min later.
Looking downwards one could see only wine fields and mountains filled with tree's. Where to land ???

At only 1600m we knew that gliding back home was out of the question. By the time we had reached 1000m my passenger, Oblt.Wind, was showing me a strange look on his face. I was new, straight out of flight school, and he didn't know me. I'll bet he was cursing the Hauptmann for this assignment. But one has to keep a brave face. It has been a few years since my stunting at Berlin but I felt that I could land safely. Then I remembered the bombs...all ten of them. I had to write a note to ask what to do about them. Heinrich's face went even whiter, if that was possible. He had forgotten them as well. One quick look around and down went the bombs into the woods.

My first choice to land was an opening but we quickly passed that, and even a second one too. Ahh to hell with it, a decision has to be made, and I'm going to land on a road.
The largest one was still to our front. I had one go at this so I did my best..... and what do ya know, we landed safely about 8km from home...or about a 3hr walk. Heinrich decided to go for help and that I should stay by the aircraft.

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

Last edited by lederhosen; 01/05/19 11:17 AM.

make mistakes and learn from them

I5 4440 3.1Ghz, Asrock B85m Pro3, Gtx 1060 3GB
#4456183 - 01/05/19 07:04 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Great pics

#4456184 - 01/05/19 07:05 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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The stories are getting good

#4456192 - 01/05/19 07:59 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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Ajax, ON
Great stories all. Looks like the weather has been keeping everyone on the ground. Lou, properly scary stuff with the engine failure over the Channel! You and MFair are very brave getting assigned to fly the Parasols. Raine, how do you learn to dance foxtrot on a virtuous couch?

5 January, 1916
Le Bourget
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

New Year came and went. The snowfall hasn’t stopped until the 3rd and was quickly followed by a torrential rain, which ceased in the evening of the 4th. Gaston was on pins and needles ever since receiving his orders to transfer to Toul, where he would join Escadrille C17 flying Caudrons. He was anxious to get underway. This would be his longest flight to date and he wanted it for once to be a worry free journey. No breakdowns, no crashes, no getting lost. He would stick to his usual plan, which was to follow the roads, train track and rivers.
There were puddles everywhere. The recently snow-covered green grass once again dominated the take off area. Grass and sodden soil, the two factors responsible for today’s share of slips, falls and stuck-in-mud footwear. Gaston was glad his travel kit included l’antidérapant (“non-slip” - the French word for wine).
He had left Le Bourget at 9:00 and was flying towards Epernay on the by now familiar trail. The weather was improving with each minute and the further east Gaston travelled the more dry it appeared to be. He reached the city one hour later and that marked the furthest point he had ever flown away from his home base. It was all new to him from now on. Gaston continued further east until he reached Chalons and turned southeast to follow a network of roads and train tracks that were crisscrossing each other. This would lead him to the enormous Lake du Der-Chantecoq where he would turn east and pass just as impressive La Val Forest. As the sprawling forest was passing by on his starboard Gaston promised himself to come back here hunting after the war. Oh, the size of the wild boar roaming these woods must be colossal.
Gaston continued his journey eastward until he finally reached Toul city. From there it was just a short hop south to the west edge of the Haye Forest, where the Toul aerodrome was located. Gaston was relieved that everything went well and the weather cooperated. He began his descent and final approach. It was approaching 11:36. He took one last look. It would be his home for the unforeseeable future.

[Linked Image]
Toul aerodrome

Attached Files Toul.JPG

"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."
#4456195 - 01/05/19 08:40 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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MFair Offline
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Fullofit, I think dancing on the virtuous couch was learned from the missionaries. I think that’s what it’s, I mean they call it.

The rain seems to have everyone on pins and needles waiting for what’s to come. Great stories Gents,

Mark Jericho
Auchell aerodrome, France.
Jan. 1916

Jericho sat at the controls of the most ungainly looking beast he had ever seen. He and his observer were to “make a few rounds about the field” so he could get used to the Morane. He blipped the engine, the signal to pull the chocks, and they bounded down the field. Being very conscious of the warnings about the sensitive elevator, he eased forward on the stick to bring the tail up. The Morane bounced twice and he felt the wheels pull free of the earth. Yawing back and forth he slowly gained altitude. Everything he had heard about this machine was true. One had to fly it every second.

After one circle of the field he began to feel comfortable enough to have a look around. “This would be some fine country to explore by horse back” he thought. His observer interrupted his gazing to point out some landmark and he was quickly reminded that there was a job to do and he was out ranked by the Captain behind him. His thoughts returned to the business at hand. After 20 minutes Captain Wharton tapped his shoulder and then to the ground. It was all over to soon and Jericho made a smooth landing on the field. As they disembarked from the Morane, Wharton turned in his direction and said, “tomorrow, weather permitting, we will visit the front lines.” Jericho saluted, “Yes Sir. I’ll be ready Sir.”


Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end.
BOC Member since....I can't remember!
#4456210 - 01/05/19 10:03 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Nov 2014
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Fullofit Offline
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Fullofit  Offline
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Ajax, ON
MFair, behindcouch

Congrats on taming the MS!


"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."
#4456213 - 01/05/19 10:16 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Hasse Offline
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2. COLOGNE

Late December 1915 – Early January 1916.

"The most improper job of any man ... is bossing other men. Not one in a million is fit for it, and least of all those who seek the opportunity."

- J. R. R. Tolkien on his experiences in the Great War

Julius left Berlin by the evening train on the 30th of December. Leni had managed to leave the Ministry in time to bid adieu to him. No other friends or relatives of Julius were present at the station. Julius didn’t mind it. He had his trusty old army backpack full of personal items, and the memory of a teary-eyed Leni kissing him on the cheek was all that he needed for the trip. Leni had even promised not to cry, but in the end she couldn’t help herself. Julius gave his word that he would stay safe and write regularly.

The train was carrying troops and material, but was not ranked as a particularly important one by the wizards in the Transport Section of the Great General Staff, so Julius and the other passengers had to spend hours waiting for more critical units to pass by. There were only so many hours one could talk about the weather, the potato harvest (which was apparently poor) and other such mundane topics of daily life, so eventually Julius gave up on the socializing, covered himself with his greatcoat and tried to get some sleep.

They arrived at Cologne on the next day after an utterly boring trip. A lorry picked up Julius and a few others from the station and took them straight to the Butzweilerhof airfield on the outskirts of the city, where a military airbase had been established already in 1912. Julius reported at the headquarters building of the Flieger-Ersatz-Abteilung, hoping for an immediate assignment to a flying unit on the front. However, it was not what the powers that be had in mind for him. Julius was told to report to a barracks and wait there for further orders, which would be given as soon as possible.

[Linked Image]

Julius was an expert at waiting. It was all he had been doing ever since the start of the war and his training first as an artillerist and then as a flyer. Once again resigned to his fate, Julius went to the barracks and made himself at home there as best as he could. The room he was assigned to was excellent by military standards, and the bed appeared to have seen only little use. He shared the room with a couple of other warrant officers. The men were free to leave the base after 6 PM, so the fellows invited Julius to go with them to Cologne for a bit of sightseeing. Soon it became apparent that the others were mostly interested in seeing the sights that the brothels of the old city had to offer. Julius politely declined their company (he had no intention of betraying Leni's trust) and went on his own to visit some of the famous locations of Cologne.

[Linked Image]

He spent a good while marveling the awe-inspiring and world-famous cathedral of the city and posted a card to Leni to let her know he had safely arrived at Butzweilerhof and was now eagerly waiting for the next phase of his adventure to begin.

Julius returned to the field well before midnight and went to sleep in the barracks hoping that tomorrow would finally see him assigned to a squadron somewhere - anywhere! - on the Western front.


"Upon my word I've had as much excitement on a car as in the air, especially since the R.F.C. have had women drivers."

James McCudden, Five Years in the Royal Flying Corps
#4456234 - 01/06/19 01:07 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Wulfe Offline
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Truly brilliant tales all round, again! Raine - you have a brilliant way of fleshing out the 'world' of your character past the squadron life! Ace - 'Drongo' Drummond is an expertly crafted character, and feels incredibly 'real'. Brilliant work in really getting into every fine detail of your man! MFair - Enjoying Jericho a lot - just keep a weather eye open at the front wink Hasse - already like the sound of Julius...sounds like he may develop into a cold-blooded killer before this thing's through!

Sgt. Graham A. Campbell
No. 20 Squadron R.F.C
Netheravon, England.

5th January, 1916.


This morning, we were all thrilled to learn that the weather had evened out enough to permit flying again! The Major wasted no time in arranging a new training roster, and by mid-day Lt. Jem Ellis had appeared to give me a quick run-down of the flight leader's hand signals, before summoning Switch-off and I to the aerodrome, for formation flying practice. It was the first time either of us had even flown in the vicinity of another aeroplane, and I must admit that we were both a little nervous. Nevertheless, to the aerodrome we went, excitement mixed with our anxiety, briskly pulling on our flying coats and helmets as we trailed behind Ellis. Our observers were already on the airfield - they were to come up with us, to strengthen our bond in the air, as per the Major's instruction.

Although I am terribly excited to have the chance to fly again, I must admit that I was, rather selfishly, disheartened when I saw that the aircraft that had been prepared for us by the mechanics were three of our B.E.2s. I was hoping to finally pilot a 'Fee', but no such luck today. The ever-cheerful Cpt. Edith met me by the side of our machine, hoisting himself into the passenger's seat with catlike agility. "Looking forward tae oor first flight thagether, Campbell?" he asked me, grinning as he pulled his flying goggles down. I saluted and replied with a well-rehearsed "Yes, sir!", provoking an outburst of laughter from Edith. "Ach! A'm yer Observer, boyo! Nae need te be so formal aboot the rank! 'Mon, in ye get, afore Ellis gets impatient".

Obligingly I boarded my Bus, turning to my left and giving Switch-off a thumbs-up, which the nervous lad returned with a weak smile. The ground crew swung our props and, once they had cleared out, we raced after Ellis down the airfield, before lifting up into the refreshing cold of the morning. The B.E. purred along magnificently, and ahead of me Edith, still beaming, looked over the small farmlands and cottages that rushed below us, occasionally pointing out an old church, or an interesting cloud, or a flock of sheep to me. There seemed to be no reason behind his fascination with certain landmarks - the man merely had a wonderfully childish enjoyment of being in the air. Once we had extended north a little bit, we locked our eyes on to Ellis' B.E out in front.

Aha! The first hand-signal. I recognised it as the command for a "Chevron formation". As per instructed beforehand, Switch-off and I obediently pulled into a diagonal line, to the right of Ellis' B.E. Edith was now focused ahead, all the child-like excitement gone from his face. I was happily surprised by how serious he became when required to be. He'll see me through okay in France, I reckon. In Chevron formation, Ellis led us into a gradual right-hand turn, in which we fought the wind to stay in formation. Our buses were quite close, and I am sure Switch-off felt the pressure every bit as much as I did. Eventually, to our relief, we levelled out again and headed North by North-East, eventually crossing over the top of Upavon Aerodrome, where we could see the pilots below preparing for their own bouts of flying after the bad weather.

After a further ten minutes' flying in the Chevron formation, Ellis seemed satisfied enough to issue his second hand signal - 'V' formation. Being the 'tail-end-charlie', as I've heard some of the boys call it, the oneness was on me to skid over to the left of our formation and ride the throttle until I was line abreast with Switch-off, on Ellis' other side. Focusing hard, I performed the move, and soon we flew along in the 'V'. I felt awfully braced, for in my head we looked perfectly professional. Edith in the front seat flashed me a quick sharp-toothed grin and a thumbs up, before turning back to watch the flight leader.

From here, Ellis had us follow him, still in formation, in a series of climbs and descents. Apparently our flying sufficed, for after this exercise we promptly turned back for Netheravon. We flew quietly along, as I tried to keep my eyes from wandering over the beautiful English countryside - the snow had partly melted now, and the ground below shone brilliantly in a sheet of dew, giving the impression that the land was gleaming as if made of a thousand diamonds. Losing my focus for a moment, I watched below as a quiet little confined church on a hilltop shed some loose snow from its roof.

Suddenly, Edith tapped me on the shoulder, his familiar childlike grin having returned, and pointed out to our right side. I looked over, squinting my eyes, and shrugged. He pointed again, this time more vigorously, and I strained my eyes again, staring intently in the indicated direction. Ah, there! Three more B.E.2s, flying the opposite direction of us! My, they were quite far off - how had Edith seen them so readily? Well, I suppose that's why he is the observer and I, the pilot.

We reached Netheravon just under an hour after we'd set off, and landed one-by-one. Having made a perfect three-point landing, I was feeling very pleased with myself as I jotted down the details of the flight in my log-book. It was then that I realised, my, this was my first proper flight with No. 20! I must celebrate later tonight.

After taxiing to the side of the aerodrome and de-planing, I was briefly congratulated by Ellis on "A job properly done", before deciding to stay out a while longer to watch the other pilots come and go. Around two O'clock I saw Jacky-Boy preparing for his own formation training, accompanied by my fellow Sergeant Pilots, Archer and Jimmy Reynard. But, what was this? The mechanics were wheeling three Fees onto the aerodrome! Ashamedly, I must admit that I was positively green with envy as I watched Jacky-Boy climb into the pilot's position, shooting me a teasing glance as he did so.

Sadly, a black stain marred the day in the form of a letter from Hounslow Heath, sent by Weston and bearing awful news. Freddy Foster is in hospital - badly injured after spinning a De Haviland at low altitude. It is Weston's belief that Freddy's old Galipoli knee-wound meant that he couldn't gain proper mastery of the rudder needed to fly the craft, which as we've now heard can be quite the temperamental beast, but I cannot believe this - Freddy was the best of us at Hounslow in our training days! By any means, poor old Freddy was badly broken up in the smash - some of the men at Hounslow have apparently said he's a goner, but us that knew him are aware that the tough ANZAC is more than capable of pulling through. Weston promises to visit him and write me as to his condition. Still no word from Teddie Lawson in France.

Last edited by Wulfe; 01/06/19 01:09 AM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4456283 - 01/06/19 01:42 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Dec 2013
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loftyc Offline
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6 January, 1916
Fldbl. Karl Arnt Lofthoven reporting.

Herr Boehm and I arrived via train and bus from Koln to Habshiem flugzeug. Met the crew, and got a good feeling about them. After a few bad weather days, we did some orientation flights. on the 4th, we did a loop south and then over to the front. yes, the front! Now here are some neat things: first, it seems that our intelligence dept. had a coup and intercepted an agent for something called the RAF Louvert section, who was carrying a whole selection of maps for the entire front. Seems the Brits have been busy. So finally I got to use a map, courtesy of the enemy. (someone actually started the rumor that the case also had maps predicting the lines all the way through 1918. where do people dream up this stuff?) Now, the map showed a long, thin lake that stretched south, but gave no name; I asked, but everyone was very secretive...hmm, what's that about? Turns out, that "lake" was the Rhein! The Mighty Rhein! Perhaps because of low rainfall(?), the Rhein actually disappears as it runs north from here. Mein Gott!

Well, the flight went fine, except that whenever I looked at the map, if my stick hand twitched, we either stalled or nose-dived, neither of which Made Herr Boehm up front very happy. The next day was a loop to the north, coming by Colmar. Normal flight, and I found the flugeug thanks to the map. Good thing too, since on the final approach, a rod blew in the engine, and I switched off for the landing. I had a brief hope that we would get a new C1 model, but they just gave us a reserve B2 to use. Maybe next time I'll keep the broken engine running.....

#4456288 - 01/06/19 01:51 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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RAF_Louvert Offline
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
RAF_Louvert  Offline
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Senior Member

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L'Etoile du Nord
.

More great reads to go with my morning cuppa. Thanks folks!
And loftyc: the RAF Louvert section? Very funny!


Swany is finding the Morane to be far more to his liking than he imagined it would be. After hearing so many stories from others about what a terror it was to fly he wasn’t sure what to expect. However, he discovered it was actually quite pleasant to go up in, at least he felt it was. Yes, it is very light on the controls; and yes, it demands one’s constant attention. Nonetheless, it floats along gently and provides outstanding visibility to the front, sides, and below. In addition it has a fairly good glide rate which, given Swany’s general bad luck with engine failures, is a plus indeed. He of course has no idea how his new mount will fair in an air battle with the Hun but he is looking forward to finding out, and he imagines he will be finding out soon enough, given the recent reports of enemy activity in his new AO.

January 6th, 1916: 2nd Lt. Randolph Swanson and his observer, Lt. Christopher Dent, lifting off from Auchel for an uneventful, early morning arty spotting mission just east of Mont-Saint-Éloi. The outing did introduce Swany to “Archie”, which startled the young airman at first, but he soon found it more interesting than frightening.
[Linked Image]

.

#4456324 - 01/06/19 08:00 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
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carrick58 Offline
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carrick58  Offline
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
4 Sqn Rfc.
Allonville, Flanders


Jan 5, 1916.

Posted to a flight of 2 BE's to do a Arty Spot. I say, we were at 4,000 and U could hear the Guns over the motor; Flashes of light and smoke , Dirt thrown 100 feet in the air I say, I am glad to have gone to the Rfc at least a clean cot to sleep in and food.

Attached Files CFS3 2019-01-06 11-40-20-90.jpgCFS3 2019-01-06 11-48-25-27.jpgdob-60  shelling a town.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 01/06/19 08:09 PM.
#4456349 - 01/06/19 10:33 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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RAF_Louvert Offline
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RAF_Louvert  Offline
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Senior Member

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L'Etoile du Nord
.

For those currently flying from Auchel/Lozinghem aerodrome, and for any other interested folks, the following shows where this field was located, if the coordinates given on the Anciens Aerodromes website are correct, (and if my Google Earth skills are worth their salt). Based on how James McCudden described the location of said aerodrome in his book, "Five Years in the Royal Flying Corps", this looks like it could be about right.

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

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#4456434 - 01/07/19 04:29 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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RAF_Louvert Offline
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RAF_Louvert  Offline
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

January 7th, 1916, Auchel, France

No flying today due to snow and wind, so after breakfast 2nd Lt. Swanson went over to the machine sheds to get a primer on the Le Rhône 9C from the camp's resident expert on such matters, Sergeant James McCudden. The man was a wizard when it came to things mechanical and was a fair teacher to boot, and Swany learned a great deal from him in a few brief hours. Sgt. McCudden at one point produced a oddly shaped bit of metal which he explained had been a ball in one of the main bearing races in the 9C that had propelled him and his pilot over the lines two days earlier. James went on to say that the engine had developed a knock just as they were about to return home, and as they weren't sure what it was they had no idea how long the thing would hold together. Despite wanting to take a direct line back to camp they were forced to make a small detour along the way so that James could fire upon a Fokker monoplane that was giving chase to a returning B.E.2c. The Hun broke off when the bullets began whizzing about him, after which James and his pilot, Sergeant Toni Bayetto, returned home and landed without incident. After a bite to eat, James had torn down the engine and found the offending ball, which was now far more cube-shaped than round. Swany was a bit surprised, and more than relieved, to learn that the Le Rhône was capable of hanging together and serving its intended purpose for quite some time even after such an integral part had gone wonky. He joked with James that, based on the young pilot's track record concerning engine reliability in the various mounts he'd flown to date, the apparent ruggedness of the powerplants in the Moranes would serve to boost his confidence.

.

#4456457 - 01/07/19 08:05 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Wulfe Offline
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Wulfe  Offline
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...Is Swany the first to cross the lines...? Congratulations!! Looks like the war's finally on wink

Sgt. Graham A. Campbell
No. 20 Squadron R.F.C
Netheravon, England.

7 January 1916.


Bad luck on my part; I have fallen ill with influenza. I am not the only one touched by the ailment, Pearson is ill as well. We have both been grounded until further notice, and I have spent the past two days in the medical building, keeping cozy in one of the beds. Fortunately for Pearson and I, we have the ward to ourselves, so things are nice and quiet. Last night, the rain was drumming on the old roof. I have always enjoyed listening to the soft rapping of rain on the rooftop as I drift into sleep.

The medical officer claims it may take several days before I can fly again. Naturally, having only just resumed flying after the period of bad weather, this was most distressing news. By George, 20 might even be in France by then!

No word yet of Freddy. I hope he is okay. No word from Lawson, either.

Real-life illness has grounded Campbell for the foreseeable future frown but, on the bright side, the doc's predicted I should be all better just about in time for No. 20 hopping over the channel! I won't be able to do much writing, but I'll do my best to keep up with everyone's tales!

Last edited by Wulfe; 01/07/19 08:07 PM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4456459 - 01/07/19 08:37 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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L'Etoile du Nord
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Wulfe, sorry to hear of your illness, here's hoping you recover quickly and get back into the campaign soon. I've been fending off a cold myself for the last week, and so far have been able to keep it at bay.

Swany did indeed cross the lines yesterday, and while I don't know if he was the first of our lot here to do such, it was a first for him. To say he was excited upon his return would be an understatement of monumental proportion. The poor boy could hardly contain himself while he filled out his very first AAR, (good Lord willing, the first of many).

.

#4456460 - 01/07/19 08:39 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Aleck A. MacKinlay
January 5, 1916

The weather broke this morning, sunny and bright, so I finally got my first orientation/assessment flight done. With Chris on board I completed two large circles of the airfield. I had no troubles with the BE2 as we finished our training flying the very machine.

But dammit if I didn't get lost. Chris was instructed by the CO not assist me to find my way, so that I would better learn the landmarks around Abeele. It should have been quite easy, what with Abeele flanked to the north and south by easy to spot forests. Somehow I got confused and circled too far north. I came down to land between the wrong set of forests and for the life of me could not find the airfield. Chris finally took pity on me and pointed well to the south, to where the airfield actually was. So embarrassing!

The CO had been watching my maiden flight but apparently became disgusted and walked back to his office when i drifted out of site. He did step out to see my landing, which was one of my best so i hope he has not written me off as a complete incompetent.

#4456476 - 01/07/19 11:00 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Good stories Keep em flying

#4456477 - 01/07/19 11:03 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
4 Sqn Rfc.
Allonville, Flanders


7 jan 1916 weather kept us down.

#4456483 - 01/08/19 12:56 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Ajax, ON
6 January, 1916
Toul
Sergent Gaston A. Voscadeaux

Capitaine de Taillepied de Bondy was the current CO of Escadrille C17. He took his job seriously and made a habit to see each newly arrived pilot in his unit personally. There were no exceptions and Gaston found himself directly in front of his office desk short while after arriving yesterday. De Bondy was a traditionalist and his lanky frame was sitting rigidly on a wooden chair behind the desk, making perfect 90 degree angles with all his body parts where possible.
- “Sergent Voscadeaux, there will be no silly stunt flying in my escadrille. No loops, or barrel rolls.” Capitaine’s mouth was forming pronounced “r’s” which were rolling off his lips, making sure his aristocratic roots were well on display.
- “Capitaine, I am of the same opinio...”
- “There will also be no interruptions while I’m speaking. I suggest you speak with adjutant Dumas about ALL the rules and regulations pertaining to this outfit.” Capitaine’s ice-blue eyes were piercing Gaston. “Tomorrow morning you will fly 2 circuits around the aerodrome. I want to see 2 perfect circles. Not squares, not triangles. Circles. Is that understood Sergent?” De Bondy kept his gaze fixed on Gaston until the other man saluted and exited his office.
He will definitely need to talk to the adjutant if he wants to stay on Capitaine’s good side.
That was yesterday. Currently Gaston was sitting in the cockpit of the Caudron assigned to him with no observer in front, attempting to impress his new superior by following his orders to a tee. Two perfect doughnuts. Sounds simple enough, especially with the clouds hanging so low that the Capitaine couldn’t possibly follow his flight path. Voscadeaux completed the exercise and landed on the field. Adjutant Dumas was noting something in his notebook, but the Capitaine was nowhere in sight. Gaston was afraid that he’ll have to repeat the exercise for the Capitaine, but adjutant Dumas informed him these two are sufficient and tomorrow he will accompany the rest of the flight to the front lines. Finally some good news!


"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."
#4456535 - 01/08/19 02:13 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit, Gaston's new CO sounds like trouble, let's hope the Sergent can stay on his good side, or at least out of his line of fire.

Scout, looks like Aleck is having issues with his commander as well. Must be something in the air.

carrick, I feel your pain when it comes to the weather.


More snow and wind at Auchel, so it's another day of no flying. Swany may make a trip into town to see what there is in the place, and to practice his French. Considering his somewhat comical dialect when speaking English, he's doing rather well with French. It helps that he grew up speaking two languages, English and Norwegian, as well as a bit of Chippewa with the local tribal members back home. Languages seems to come naturally to the young fellow which will serve him well in his current situation.

.

#4456560 - 01/08/19 06:03 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Lou, Gaston shouldn’t have any problems with his CO, as long as he keeps his nose clean. Swany, on the other hand, being such a cunning linguist and having free time on his hands is mischief in its purest form. Ladies beware!


"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."
#4456572 - 01/08/19 08:23 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Vancouver Island, Canada
Aleck A. MacKinley
January 6, 1916:

I knew what flight I was going to be assigned at the pilots meeting. Major Mills always assigned a solo flight up to the front and back as a second test for new pilots. According to several of the senior pilots I had talked to, this was standard procedure. Imagine my shock when, after assigning missions two most of the pilots, he announced that my mission for the day would be airfield defense over Condekerque. This caused a chuckle to ripple around the room, which I couldn't quite understand until Major Mills thrust his pointer at the map. Condekerque airfield is located northwest of us near the coast and far, FAR behind enemy lines. It was immediately obvious to me that this mission was a coddling mission, something safe and easy. The Major doesn't think I am ready to be near the front lines.

Sergent White was assigned to accompany me, basically my baby sitter. He did not appear to be very happy about the assignment. As I consulted my flight map, I realized our course went well off the edge of my map. I mentioned this to Chris and he laughed. "Of course it's off the map. The old man is testing your ability to spot landmarks and follow your compass. Didn't you notice that our course is a straight northwest flight out and a straight southeast flight back? Navigation test my boy, navigation!"

So off we went, with me leading our little flight of two BE2's. I pointed my nose northwest and climbed into the mist. Ah, the bloody mist! How is a fellow supposed to find his way when the ground is mostly obscured in mist? On we droned, climbing slowly, the engine whirring steadily and reassuringly. There seemed to be a line of forests along our path; two on the right, one on the left, another on the right, and so on. If I could just remember the pattern I would be able to follow these back home. But on and on we went, with no sign of the coast, and I had soon lost track of all these landmarks. Crap!

Suddenly the coast appeared ahead. Condekerque should be nearby. Yes! There was the airfield just below and to starboard. I was shocked to have arrived exactly on target, but kept a straight face and casually qestured to Chris as if to say "there it is, exactly as I had planned". He gave me a nod and a smile.

I circled the airfield for about 10 minutes before Sergent White signaled that we should head home. I pointed my nose to the southeast, which thankfully put the sun behind Chris's body so that I could fly without the sun beaming directly into my eyes.

Things did not go well on the return trip. Nothing looked familiar. I kept the compass nailed on SE and hoped for the best but my spirits sank lower and lower as I began to see towns and forests I had not seen on the trip out. I was failing my navigation test for a second time.

Suddenly there was a river below us. A river? Oh dear. But also an airfield. Check the map, check the map ... find an airfield by a river. La Gourge airfield!! Well, I was well off course but at least I now knew where I was. I turned sharply to the north and made a beeline directly to our base. I made an excellent landing, which no one saw because they were all scurrying to avoid German bombs that were falling at that very instant. Little damage done to the airfield and hopefully a good distraction from my failure, yet again, to find my way home.

Attached Files Combat Flight Simulator 3 Screenshot 2019.01.08 - 10.23.44.95.png
#4456593 - 01/09/19 12:13 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Nigel Archibald Notting
Sgt, RFC
4 Sqn Rfc.
Allonville, Flanders


8 Jan 1916.


More low cloud and bad weather. No flights but had a go at Machine-gun practice Then had Orderly Duty.

Attached Files 3.Project-Lanoe  Machine gun.jpg
#4456605 - 01/09/19 01:24 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Raine Online content
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77 Scout -- That was a good capture of that "where the heck am I?" sense I know only too well! Fullofit, glad to see Gaston putting his best foot forward at his new escadrille. How long will it last, I wonder? Lou, is Swaney heading out for the blue plate special or the blue light special? Carrick, hope you're back in the air soon. Here is the next chapter in Jim Collins' tale...

An Airman’s Odyssey – by James Arthur Collins

Part Nine: In which I am held aloft by a Parasol

The Morane stood like a prehistoric insect, its wide, high wings spread out above the thin fuselage, vibrating gently with the morning breeze. The ack emmas had propped a ladder against the left side of the fuselage and I began to climb towards the cockpit when they shouted “Other side” in unison. I rounded the tail and an amused corporal pointed at the cut-out in the fuselage for my foot. The procedure had escaped me since yesterday: left foot on the wheel, right foot onto the longeron inside the cut-out, and then an athletic swing of the left leg into the cockpit – a difficult manoeuvre, especially given my height and the need to avoid putting my head through the wing overhead!

I settled in wicker seat and waited while Lieut. McCrimmond, an instructor, climbed into the observer’s seat behind me. McCrimmond needlessly reminded me how sensitive the elevator was and said to be sure that I had plenty of speed before lifting off. The mechanics fussed with the Gnome interminably, or so it seemed, pushing the exhaust valves open and priming each cylinder with a few squirts of petrol. It was necessary to lean slightly forward to reach the short control column comfortably. I had decided over breakfast to hold the stick very, very slightly forward until the tail began to lift. The last thing I wanted was to force the nose into the field accidentally while trying to bring the tail up. To avoid overcorrecting I braced my right forearm against the inside of my knee.

It was time. I confirmed the magneto switches were off and waited as the corporal pulled the prop through its cycle. I echoed the call of “Contact.” With a heave, the corporal pulled the prop down and the Gnome stuttered to life, catching until the popping and banging became a steady gurgling roar. I waved away the chocks and began bumping over the grass. Now with the machine pointed downfield, I took a deep breath and pushed the throttle lever forward. The machine rolled farther than I expected before the rumble from the tail skid grew momentarily fainter and then stopped as the tail lifted off the ground. I used the slightest flex of my wrist to level off and, in a second or two, the Morane took to the air. It was all surprisingly uneventful.

The machine climbed smoothly and I finally exhaled. But at that very instant, the slight breeze seemed to lift the right side of the wing and the whole affair listed to the left. I corrected, and the wing warping seemed to be a sluggish way to get level. And then the machine slewed to the right! I had been terrified of the balanced elevator’s sensitivity, only to find the real devil for me was lateral stability. It took lots of rudder to hold the thing level with any degree of crosswind.

I edged slowly up to 2000 feet and felt McCrimmond patting me on the shoulder. I turned and saw him grinning broadly under his goggles. He gave him an enthusiastic thumbs-up and I smiled like a small child with a good report card!

I gingerly turned to the south and made a wide arc below St-Omer as far as the Lys and back again. As the Aircraft Park and its distinctive racetrack emerged from the haze, I began bleeding off altitude, experimenting with the “blip switch” that cut the ignition and adjusting the mixture. We came in low over the trees, hangars, and sheds at the eastern end of the field. The scrubby brown grass, mixed with a thin dusting of snow, came up to meet the wheels. I blipped twice and let the tail come down for a perfect three-point landing.

But it wasn’t perfect. A gust caught the Morane under that ridiculously high wing and suddenly we were twenty feet above the field. And then the left wing dipped down and we swerved drunkenly down. I let the Gnome roar back to life and pushed the right side of the rudder bar forward. The landing gear hit the ground with a thud while we were still leaning left thirty degrees. In any other machine, the wing would have shattered, but not with the Parasol. We bounced into the air, floated unsteadily, and dropped roughly back to the field, now pointing to the right. I blipped repeatedly and brought the machine under control at last.

In front of the hangars, I switched off and fell back in my seat. “That was a bit of an adventure,” McCrimmond observed. My response was a short and very Anglo-Saxon word.

[Linked Image]
"...I began bleeding off altitude, experimenting with the “blip switch”..."

It was back again in the afternoon, and I promised McCrimmond a drink in the mess for his trouble this morning. He asked if I planned to let him live long enough to enjoy it. This time I used the same technique for locking my arm with the stick slightly forward, but I let the machine pick up more speed before lifting off. The left wing dipped again, but not as dangerously as before. I relaxed when we were up to 3000 feet and tried some sharper turns and manoeuvres, and even stalled the machine. It quickly fell out of the stall with opposite rudder and a lot of blipping with the nose down. Before I knew it, it was time to land.

Again we approached over the hangars. I kept the speed a bit higher than in the morning and more or less flew the Parasol onto the field before blipping until the tail came down. I might not always have a large enough field to use this technique, but the landing was wonderfully smooth because of it. McCrimmond said it was very well done.

I couldn’t wait to get back in the air. There were, however, others in line for our lone Morane. So instead of flying I caught up on my letters home. There was still no news of my posting. Life at the Depot was mildly depressing, with little of the good humour and camaraderie I enjoyed at Netheravon. The newly-arriving pilots were each in their own world, and it made little sense to make friends when we expected to be posted elsewhere any day. The mess food was bland and meagrely handed out, and the mess fees were exorbitant for what we get. On the 9th, I walked into the village of Longuenesse, adjacent to St-Omer. I saw the chateau that served as General Trenchard’s headquarters, and soon after encountered two Canadian doctors from one of the several hospitals that have been established in the area. They were headed to dinner in a small estaminet in the village and I joined them for a fine meal of sole, potatoes, and very good cheap white wine.

Rain started while we ate. Three days passed and it did not let up.

Attached Files Blip.JPG
#4456612 - 01/09/19 02:53 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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Another great tale, Raine. Kinda makes you wanna hop in one of them Parasols and practice those landings. Hope you don’t get posted to one of those aerodromes in the middle of a forest.


"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."
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