Lou - Well! If I remember my historical skins correctly then Captain Swanson just fried himself a rather large fish! Congrats!

Fullofit - 80 victories by March 1917! Outstanding. Manfred von who?


Evan C. Easom
No. 48 Squadron RFC

Part 5: High in the Empty Grey.


The following day Evan woke to find La Bellevue bathed in a golden sheet of sunlight, the small puddles that had formed on the waterlogged aerodrome glistening like untapped silver. With hope in his heart, he accompanied Ackerman and Rast to the flight offices - and, yes! In ‘B’ Flight’s office he found Wilkinson writing up the day’s sorties! At his arrival, the Flight Commander turned to face him. “Ah, Evan. Good morning. The Captain’s asked that I put you on the 10 O’Clock show, behind our own lines, to give you a little more experience in the air”. Evan nodded gleefully. “Thank you, sir!” he happily responded, before taking his leave and heading to the mess.

Inside he found Tidmarsh in his usual position, seated by the fire, alongside Rast. At the far end of the room, another melancholic piano tune softly filled the air. “Morning, Evan!” Tidmarsh called, waving him over. “Come and have a look at this!”. Evan obliged, sinking down beside Rast in an empty armchair. With a sharp-toothed grin, Tidmarsh held out the copy of ‘Flight Magazine’ that he had been reading. “There’s an article in here about our new scout. The S.E.5. They say she’s miles ahead of anything the Hun have. The chaps in Number 56 just recently got the first ones, lucky devils!”

Evan looked over the greyscale illustration printed in the article, and read aloud. “The most recent warplane devised by the Royal Aircraft Factory is the Scout Experimental 5, or S.E. for short. Powered by the 150 Horsepower Hispano, the S.E.5 is unmatched in speed and climbing ability”. He looked up at Tidmarsh. “Goodness! I wonder if we’ll get a chance to see one!”. Tidmarsh laughed. “Well, you never know!”. From the direction of the piano came a new voice. “I doubt it. Number 56 are posted near Wipers”. Tidmarsh sighed with a smirk. “Must you always be such a spoil-sport, Holliday, old boy?” he called back. The Pianist, Holliday, simply turned back to his playing.

At around half-past Nine the four pilots gathered around the table for a spot of breakfast - buttered toast and eggs - before spilling out onto the aerodrome once more and heading towards the Nissen huts to collect their flying gear. “Are you on the 10 O’Clock show as well, Evan?” Tidmarsh asked, and he nodded. “Well, splendid! I’ll see you on the flight line, then!”. He turned off and disappeared through the doorway of a hut, and Evan trod carefully through the mud towards his own residence. As he crept inside to collect his flying gear, he found Ackerman penning a letter at the writing-desk. “Off on patrol?” he asked, without looking up. “Yes. We’re staying on our side, apparently” Evan replied. Ackerman nodded. “Well, best of luck”.

At a quarter to Ten evan joined the pilots and observers by the Hangars, where they stood making idle chatter and sharing cigarettes. Wickham greeted Evan with a broad grin. “Hullo, Evan! Looking forwards to it today? We should have a nice, quiet time of it. And look who’s decided to come along!”. Gesturing, Wickham pointed to one leather-clad pilot, and with a start Evan realised that it was Captain Robinson! Upon sighting him, the Captain bounded over with a friendly smile. “Evan! I thought I’d better come up and keep an eye on you. We’re only going to Lavieville, but I want you to get a good lay of the land. See if you can find all the major landmarks on your map and commit them to memory”. Stiffly, Evan stood to attention and saluted. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir!”. The Captain laughed heartily. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, man! No need for all the stiff formalities!”.

Tidmarsh passed off a cigarette to Evan as, ahead of them, their flight leader stood before them. Evan recognised the pilot as Holliday, the pianist. With a disinterested air he tiredly looked over the aircrews. “Well, there’s not much to it. We’re flying over Lavieville and coming back again. Let’s go and get it over with. Mary, you’re number two. The new chap will be behind you”.

With that, the aircrews headed towards their machines. Climbing into the cockpit of A3338, Evan suddenly found, to his complete surprise, that his hands were trembling slightly. As he looked down at them, an image flashed in his head of his first sortie - the two machines colliding and tangling, falling to earth in pieces. He shook his head in annoyance and breathed deeply. A moment later an Ack-Emma swung his prop, and he was comforted slightly by the warm, soothing vibrations of the engine.

The feeling was not to last for long. No sooner had the four Bristols taken off when the sky opened up, pouring down a barrage of sleet towards the British machines. With the downpour whipping viciously at his face Evan huddled tightly into his cockpit, shaking with frost and desperately focusing on trying to maintain his formation as the Bristols climbed up and into the clouds. What followed was an hour of misery unlike any known to Evan thus far. Frozen to the bones, he followed Holliday’s Bristol through a clouded, frozen sky. In the midst of his misery he had forgotten Captain Robinson’s command to scan the landmarks - only realising this long after he had gratefully returned to land.

As Evan sat in the mess that night, having opted for a murky, milk-less cup of hot tea over a stiffer drink, he couldn’t help but feel disheartened at the day’s flying.