MFair, you're a brave man (along with Raine) flying in Alsace. One dead engine and endless forests can easily end your career quicker than any enemy in the air. I guess all enemies even slightly damaged are also as good as confirmed kills. You've got to take the good with the bad, right?

Here is the latest status report. It looks like everyone had a quiet week.

Dudley Nightshade
Flt Lt.
6 RNAS



Feb 19, 1917.


Been down for weather maybe it will break on the 20th.

This is the 1st time to fly this region. Ones first impression is "this is beautiful!" Your next thought is just as you mentioned. "Where am I going to land if something goes wrong!"

I lost many a good pilot and a few Aces to Where in the E'LL am I going to land.

Dudley Nightshade
Flt Lt.
6 RNAS
Feb 20 1917.


Snowing outside so no flights. The weather in the Paris papers say next chance will be the 25 th.

Hey all, Benjamin Kincaid will be off on leave until mid-June. Unfortunately, my job will be sending me across the country for a rather intense course and I will be away from my flying rig until then. Best of luck to you all!

Be safe in your travels Canuck. The war should really be in full swing upon your return.

MFair, that transfer was pretty lucky and I'm sure you'll enjoy more "traffic" in Verdun sector.

Adjutant Dominique Urbain in Verdun is finally seeing some confirmed kills. His current confirmed kill ratio is less than 1 out of 3. His wingmen are blind as bats and can't be relied upon to confirm his claims.




Flight Sub-Lieutenant Cyrus Gold in Northern Flanders is also making progress with the help of his gunner.

A journal of the Great War -- By an Anonymous Aviator (Colin Urquhart)

Part 6

Norman Prince never recovered from the crash and died on the 15th. All the Americans turned out for a full military funeral, and we sent an honour guard of 25 men and eight officers. The French arranged for a gun carriage and we escorted Prince's coffin to a small cemetery in Luxeuil. After the short service, the six of us repaired to the Pomme d'Or for brandies and stories.

I got to know Charles Chotto, our resident Yank. He had bagged his first Hun that morning and then joined us for Prince's funeral. He is a great favourite with the Escadrille Americaine pilots, as he is a southerner like many of them. Unlike most of that gang, though, he's not a college boy. He was working as a motor mechanic in upstate New York and slipped across the border to Canada to join the RNAS. He was one of the fellows cooling his heels and waiting for flying lessons at Long Branch, just like the fellow I met at Union Station at the start of my journey here. Suffice it to say, he celebrated hard that afternoon at the Pomme d'Or, and then returned to the mess to join in a celebratory binge. He was feeling wretched for several days after. It's terrible what Temperance at home does to ruin one's capacity for liquor!

We flew on a long reconnaissance up the front in the St-Dié sector on 16 October, me and Buck and John Page and Turpin. Three Fokker biplanes jumped us out of the sun and a twisting fight ensued. We were passing over some high wooded hills. As I banked the Strutter, the treetops seemed almost to brush my wingtips. One had to watch the airspeed very carefully. I chased one Hun off to the east and was turning back for home when I saw a Fokker down low, close on Page's tail. Turpin, the gunlayer, was not firing. Page's Strutter wobbled and dipped into a clearing. For a moment I thought he'd put it down safely, but then there came a flash of light and the machine began to burn fiercely. I dived on the Hun, who had turned to admire his handiwork. It was a bad mistake, for I set the Fokker alight with my first burst and saw it drop a wing and curve to the ground below.

I reported the loss of Page and Turpin on my return to Luxeuil and claimed the Hun without much hope of confirmation. To my surprise, just as I was leaving the mess later that evening, the RO stopped to tell me that Page had called in. He was not seriously hurt, although Turpin was dead. And he confirmed my Fokker! That made four confirmed kills to date.
Bad weather prevented all flying for the next three days. Captain Elder had a theatre built in one of the hangars and we had motion pictures. Then Chotto and I got leave to Nancy, although we had little time to do anything but shop, have dinner, and enjoy warm baths.

The next two days had us on long bombing runs to aerodromes well back of the front lines. I hated those long flights, as the weather was turning much colder and there was little chance of avoiding a crash over the mountains if the engine cut out.

The Yanks left on the 18th, posted up north to the Somme region. By all accounts, if they wanted action they'll find it there.
We were not far behind. On 21 October we got word that we were to transfer to our forward base at Ochey, south of Toul. We were excited, for the country is more open and we will be not too far from all the action around Verdun. There are stories of a new Hun aeroplane called an Albatros. I expect we shall we seeing it soon.

The first operational flights were on 23 October. I was to follow Flt Comdr Draper and Dissette up to the St-Mihiel salient, but a failed obturator ring shut down my engine and I had to put down in a farm field near Neufchteau. This time no one thought I was a sale Boche, but I found it impossible to get any passing soldiery to guard my aircraft until nearly nightfall. At length, two policemen were sent to watch the machine and I walked into town, where a Jesuit priest invited me into his rectory to wash and eat. I ended up spending the night as the guest of one of his parishioners, a lawyer named Villeneuve with an extraordinary pretty wife who spoke excellent English. I was sad when the Crossley came for me after breakfast in the morning.

On 24 October 1916, the new front offered me a taste on excitement. I flew back to the salient with Armstrong and a new lad, Carl Foster. My old gunlayer, Buck, was promoted to Observer Lieutenant and given a ten-day leave. His replacement is very green, a timid English boy named Mark Landon. Just north of Toul we ran into a couple of Hun two-seaters with three Fokker biplanes. The Huns were very keen and gave us a good fight, but Foster downed one and Armstrong drove one down. I chased the third back north, where the three of us forced it to land, unfortunately behind his own lines. Just then three of the new Albatros scouts dived on us. Two singled Landon and me out. The first burst knocked out the Clerget and we drifted down, landing among the trenches. We jumped out and ran to the south, not fully sure if we were in friendly or enemy territory. I'd seen some distinctly Hunnish uniforms in a trench just seconds before touching down.

As it turned out, we had landed between the French forward and reserve trench lines. We huddled in a bunker occupied by Moroccan soldiers while the Huns shelled our machine. We listened to the explosions outside. A piece of metal came thudding down into the mud by the entrance step. It was unmistakably a section of the Strutter's cowling.

"I should think you can forget about returning for the watch, Colin," Landon said.


"The French arranged for a gun carriage and we escorted Prince's coffin to a small cemetery in Luxeuil."


"I dived on the Hun, who had turned to admire his handiwork. It was a bad mistake, for I set the Fokker alight with my first burst and saw it drop a wing and curve to the ground below."

Oh the tides of war! Having a wonderful round with 4 Fok. DII's and Collishaw ran into me. Of course he was just barked up a bit but Charles Choto went down as a burning comet in Verdun.

On to a "D" pilot

Dudley Nightshade
Flt, Lt.
6 RNAS
Petit-snythe
France.


Feb 25, 1917.


Finally, the weather Broke. Got to do a little Close Escort work. Flew over a Hun aerodrome at 3000 meters. I say, loads of fun. The enemy shells were popping and we could see an entire Jasta in a landing circle way down below. Finished up and nosed over for home.

Carrick58, I don't know anybody that likes this new format. As far as your questions go, you probably should post those over in the Technical Help thread because I for one can't help you with any of them.

cool, thanks

Journal Entry: 28 October, 1916
Pronville

Today was a black day for the Luftstreitkräfte and for me personally. I had just returned to my office from our afternoon patrol when my telephone began to ring. I answered and was surprised to hear that it was OberstLeutnant von der Lieth-Thomsen. Without any small talk he said just three words that would forever change my life and quite possibly the Luftstreitkräfte as well. He said, "Boelcke is dead!" Forgetting myself, I exclaimed, "what did you say?" He asked me to calm myself and this time he described in detail what had happened to the great Boelcke. He went on to say, "that I was to gather my belongings and get over to Lagnicourt as quick as possible and take command of Jasta 2. Apparently, Leutnant Böhme was under suicide watch and the other men are completely devastated." I told him I would move with all haste and hung up the telephone.

The men had already gathered for the evening mess, so that saved me the trouble of having to gather them together. The noise and general rowdiness of our mess quieted as soon as I entered, I guess the men could tell by my countenance that something terrible had occurred. Manfred called from across the room, "My God man, what has happened?" I told the men to find a seat and quiet down, I have bad news to share with them. As the men settled, I took the opportunity of drinking a small brandy in hopes that it would calm my frayed nerves. Finally, the men were settled and patiently waiting for me to share my news. I came right to the point and explained how this afternoon Boelcke had fallen in a aerial engagement, but that it was caused by a collision with another pilot. I then went on to tell that I was also leaving tonight to take command of Jasta 2 because it is in disarray due to this terrible shock. I turned to Manfred and told him that as of now he was in command of Jasta 1. Manfred deserves to command a Jasta and will do a fine job, but it is a shame that it would have to happen in this manner. I said my farewells and went to pack my belongings. As I was driven away, I realized that between the time I received the call and leaving only two and half hours had passed.

As I reflect on today's horrible event, I can't help but feel that if Boelcke could fall then what hope is there for any of us. Sure, I have more victories that Boelcke but I always felt he was the better tactician. I hope that I will lead the Jasta in a manner that would have pleased him. My first task will be to help the men respond and deal with the tragedy of today and then we can work on making Jasta 2 even better.

Dudley Nightshade
Flt. Lt.
6 RNAS
Petit-synthe, France.

Feb 26, 1917.

B flight had the duty so up to the lines and back. I spotted many flights of our guys something must be up ?

Here is the latest status report.

Nice reports gentlemen! I always enjoy reading them. I've been very busy with things and it's been a choice of either writing or flying, so I've picked the latter option. Hopefully I can put together a new Berthier story soon. Banjoman, I was expecting to see something about Boelcke's demise and you didn't disappoint.

BTW, this new layout is making my eyes bleed...

I know what you mean, I hate it as well. I think most everybody hates it, but what can we do.