Lou, some wonderful adventures are happening in St Omer. Freddie is someone that is easy to underestimate, it seems. Capt Tillson won't make that mistake twice! I love the night bombing episode. I'm assuming you set up the historical mission in quick combat and logged to your campaign. Well done! Little jaunts like that certainly add colour to the campaign.

MFair, Immer has certainly made a splash at Jasta 6. He is really on a tear. Here's hoping that he has a better time with the claims gods than Vogel is having lately.

Carrick, Marcel is doing well and most importantly, he remains on the right side of the grass! Great screenshots as always.

Fullofit, Ziggy is a force to be reckoned with! He is certainly racking up a score these days. I am holding my breath waiting for the results of the last two claims for the pair of Nieuports. Vogel can hear the squeaky shoes creeping up behind him. As you will see, the claims gods are throwing their lot in with Ziggy.

Epower, what a wonderful introduction to 56 Squadron. It appears that you have fallen down the mother of all rabbit holes. Your last mission, however, was a little too much of a near run thing. I was so relieved to see that Oliver made it back to earth more or less intact. How long is he out for?

I have had a few days away and I'm still playing catch up. Unfortunately, Vogel's luck with claims has diminished somewhat.


Tagebuch of Oblt. der Res. Hans-Dieter Vogel, PLM. HHO, EK1, EK2

Jasta 12, Roucourt, France

Part 33


6 September 1917

Up in the air well before 7 AM. We are to rendezvous with two DFW bombing machines and escort them down south to Bapaume, where they will bomb the airfield. We climb to 3500 metres and freeze all the way there and back. I hate these assignments where you are compelled to play nursemaid and fly along at 140 or 150 km/h waiting to be attacked from behind the nearest cloud. In any event, we are fortunate this morning and make no contact with the enemy. North of Bapaume we sight seven Spads far below, too far below to attack as we would not be able to catch up with our charges afterwards.

I return to Roucourt to find Offizierstellvertreter Immer has arrived from Jasta 6. To my delight he has already gone up with Schobinger’s patrol. He has claimed a British SE and we enjoy a cup of tea while he tells me about his first impression of this new British machine. We agree it seems to need a larger engine, but that is a problem our opponents are certain to solve in short order. I tell Schobinger that he will take Immer under his wing for the next few weeks at least.

We spend the afternoon out at the pilots’ hut on the field. Around two-thirty, the telephone rings and our front observers inform me that enemy machines are approaching. I ring the large brass bell outside the door and our mechanics run to get our Albatrosen started while we scramble into our flying kit. Only four machines are ready: mine, Joerke’s, Ewers’s, and Hochstetter’s. Four minutes later we are in the air. Already black bursts of anti-aircraft fire are visible just to the west. We climb desperately, our machines scrambling for altitude at the edge of a stall. Slowly, ever so slowly, the altimeter needle turns. I can now make out the faint outline of two yellow machines against the bright, clear sky. The Englishman must see us for they fire a flare and begin to head west. Already we can see that these are Sopwith bombers, old and slow.

We are strung out over two kilometres. I am in the lead. Suddenly, to my surprise, the trailing Sopwith turns about to attack. We rush at each other head-on. I skidded to one side with full rudder and see my tracer rounds striking the English machine. My opponent rolls and dives beneath me. I follow. He tries the same trick again. This time I follow but give myself more room to turn after I pull out of the split-S. Now I have him. My twin Spandaus bark and the rounds plunge down into the Sopwith. The enemy machine has no observer. It is damaged and I close to within fifteen metres before firing again. A black plume of smoke spews from the stricken Sopwith and it begins its long curving dive to a final resting place.


"A black plume of smoke spews from the stricken Sopwith and it begins its long curving dive to a final resting place."

I have followed the Englishman down to one thousand metres. My comrades have caught up with me and we reform. Now we climb south-east toward Roucourt. It is Ewers who sees him first and signals – a lone de Havilland scout down low and heading home. I race ahead of the others and dive on the unwary foe. It takes only one burst and he falls into the mud below. The others are nowhere to be seen. Off to the west I see Flak and assume they have found other Englishmen eager for sport. I begin climbing west to join them when, to my shock, another DH5 crosses directly in front of me. The Englishman is oblivious to my presence and I am behind them in a flash. Two bursts in quick succession finish him off and he joins his squadron mate in the mud below.

Returning to Roucourt, I find we have had a good day. Hochstetter claims a de Havilland. I claim the Sopwith, which is confirmed. At long last I have 40 downed enemy machines to my credit. The two DH5s, however, are rejected. Meanwhile, Schobinger has encountered a number of Spads and some de Havillands. Immer has two claims, both of which have been confirmed. The new boy has already made a name for himself – his comrades are calling him “Wolf”!

Tonight we open the second of Brother Bernard’s casks of beer to celebrate. Steinmesser has promised us more. The evening meals are still a bit sparse although our midday meal is now without parallel among the frontline units. Still, the kitchen can put out some smoked fish and good bread. Toasts are drunk and the Kasino rings with laughter. Our little gang is coming together nicely.

Steinmesser and I moved to the front room and enjoy cigars with our beer. “Can you get any more of this stuff?” I ask him.

“I’m picking it up at the monastery tomorrow,” Steinmesser replies. “There is a man in Courtrai I need to speak with.”

I cocked my head at him. “Max, that sounds pretty devious.”

“More than you think. I have a plan for our friend the major at the commissariat.”

That reminds me. I still have the autographed photograph of Richthofen with which to charm our provisioner-in-chief. I mention this to Steinmesser.

Steinmesser smiles and leans forward. “Hans-Dieter, my friend, I will be needing that photograph from you. And I need you to go and see the major tomorrow and tell him that Richthofen is tired of being treated like a star opera singer and has refused to hand out any more photographs unless he is ordered to.

“What are you up to?” I ask.

“Wait and see, my friend. Wait and see.”


7 September 1917

Today is mixed sun and cloud with occasional spots of rain. We are to cross the lines and destroy an enemy balloon near Bapaume. The flight is without incident. Joerke, Becker, and a new man – Holck – join me. The target balloon is easy to see in the early morning sun. We emerge from the clouds about three or four kilometres from it and dive straight in. I see our rounds hitting the balloon and smoke emerging. The balloon erupts in flames and we pull up into the right, still in formation!


"The balloon erupts in flames and we pull up into the right, still in formation!"

On our return, we discuss credit for the balloon, the destruction of which we have all witnessed. All four of us fired at it. In the end we draw cards for credit and the honour goes to Hochstetter.

We fly again in the afternoon, a defensive patrol over our aerodromes at Haubourdin and Phalempin. We arrived there at 4000 metres and circle about for a half-hour without seeing anything. Just as I am about to lead the flight home, we notice puffs of anti-aircraft fire down low. There are train yards north of Lens. We dive in that direction to investigate and find my favourite prey – DH5s – shooting up the place. The enemy pilots are well occupied, and it is a simple matter to slip in behind them unnoticed. I fire too long bursts into the first and enemy de Havilland and what should fall to its destruction. Then I spot a second English machine running for safety and dive on it. It, too, falls to my guns.

We returned to Roucourt and I file two claims. Unfortunately, both enemy machines fell into British lines out of sight of our own positions and both claims are rejected.

Schobinger’s Kette has been up twice and Immer has two more claims. Muller is telephoning everyone he knows in the army looking for confirmations.

Steinmesser is back from Courtrai but he is avoiding me.