Jeffery Vickers Sgt, Rfc 41 Sqn, B Flight Lealvillers, Flanders. France 1 Victory
Dec 10, 1917.
No flight posted so helped out in the Hanger till we got a break in the rain showers. I took a short walk on the road in the woods and met a lady selling good luck trinkets. I bought one that she said is a charm that repels lead then back to the hangers.
Jeffery Vickers Sgt, Rfc 41 Sqn, B Flight Lealvillers, Flanders. France 1 Victory
Dec 11, 1917.
B flight , 5 a/c, was posted for Patrol in scattered rain showers and lite wind. Over the lines we pulled up in a climb thru the dark clouds where it would be lighter with good viability in rain. As we did a shower of e/a dove thru us ( where did they come from ? ) 1st one then another passed by probably as surprised as we were,but Firing as they went. I spotted a 3rd one slightly lower and nosed over firing a long burst from both guns ( about 102 rds or so no Hits were seen) as I couldn't get a good bead on him. then he too flashed by and was gone in the rainy clouds below. No claims. However, 1 of ours was missing and presumed destroyed.
DC, when are we gonna see a new report from you? Carrick, staying away from the Camels is not an option. They're faster than the D.III
13 August, 1917 Harlebeke Jasta 18
Aldi was wrong about Berthold. His devotion to duty will not kill them. It will get them better planes and with the arrival of Camels, not a moment too soon. After yesterday’s fiasco, Berthold promised to take it up with Kogenluft and requisition new airplanes. His goals cannot be achieved with the equipment he is currently forced to make use of. To Aldi’s great relief new machines will arrive within a week. The mood on the base has improved considerably. Everyone is excited to get their hands on new planes.
14 August, 1917 Harlebeke Jasta 18
Early this morning a flight of DH.4’s paid a visit and bombed the aerodrome. Not much damage, but Strähle’s machine is now a pile of ashes and matchsticks. He is unable to take part in the morning patrol and hitched a ride in a tender to the Flugpark for a replacement. Meanwhile, Aldi and the rest are patrolling the front near Menen. Berthold and Seppl are part of Kette Eins. A marauding flight of Brisfits and Tripes attacks out of the clouds and drags them across the lines where the fight takes place. After the indecisive duel Aldi returns along with the rest of his flight home at low altitude where they encounter a solitary Tripe with some battle damage. Aldi aims for the low hanging fruit and goes after him with the rest of the flight keeping close behind. The battered Tripe doesn’t react to Schwarzkopf’s maneuver. The pilot is either badly wounded, or didn’t notice the Albatros moving in behind. Aldi brought the throttle all the way back to prevent overshooting his target. The twin Spandaus shred part of the lower plane and the Sopwith goes down in an uncontrolled spiral, hitting the ground with a bone chilling crunch heard over the droning of the Mercedes engine above. Aldi increased the throttle and begun to climb, looking back one last time at the growing column of smoke and dust.
At the base, Strähle is back with his new mount and a wicked smile. He did not get just a replacement, he is now the pilot of the new Albatros D.V! The lucky Schweinehund took advantage of some clerical error at the Flugpark and was assigned the newer machine. He flew back as fast as possible before they realized their mistake.
Aldi still needs to wait until the end of the week for his new ride to arrive. A lot can still happen between now and the end of the week.
"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."
Your Post brings up Aldi 's problem. Which machine was Better a D-V or a D-III ? I have read conflicting reports about the two machines . In his spot, I would think that transferring to a a Pfalz D-IIIa Jasta or an Elite Sqn beginning or awaiting to re equip with The DR-1 would keep the
Been a bit busy lately with life and (Gasp) other games, finally jumping back into the DID, although I've had to abandon the pilot I was planning to fly 2 missions in, so instead of a German I think I'll try an American flying for the French.
Jeffery Vickers Sgt, Rfc 41 Sqn, B Flight Lealvillers, Flanders. France 2 Victory's
Dec 12, `9`7.
I had a tin of bullybeef before going up on a Armed Recon over Monchy. By Jove, what a party. The Sqn had 7 a/c up and we dropped in on 5 Huns lowered than us near the Hun A.F.'s. Bollicks ! machines all over going to and fro. I damaged one then pulled over by one and shot off his wings till my guns jammed. I went RTB. The chap , I brought down had a black stripe on his a/c belly. We lost 1 Pilot wnd + 1 Destroyed ( pilot KIA ) for 3 Huns Destroyed + 1 Heavy Damage.
Your Post brings up Aldi 's problem. Which machine was Better a D-V or a D-III ? I have read conflicting reports about the two machines . In his spot, I would think that transferring to a a Pfalz D-IIIa Jasta or an Elite Sqn beginning or awaiting to re equip with The DR-1 would keep the
Carrick, I'm no expert, but if one's to believe Wikipedia, then it seems many pilots preferred to keep their D.III's, but in WOFF I'll take a D.V over D.III any day. BTW, congrats on the Military Cross, just make sure you won't get cross-eyed from soaking up all that French culture.
DC, make sure you're in fighting condition before you decide to fly. Get well.
"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."
I rolled off of my new cot, glad that the world had finally stopped spinning. When he had reported to the flight line last Tuesday, Roderick Dallas, the CO had laughed out loud, told him he looked like pounded clay and ordered him back to bed. By the next day, I had been ordered back to the aid station to get properly checked out. I had a fever of 104 degrees and was ordered to bed and force fed fluids by a nurse that I am still not convinced wasn't working for the other side. I spent three days at the aid station essentially in isolation, at first afraid I was going to die, then in fear that I wouldn't.
I was welcomed back to the Squadron with suspicion, until I proved I was no longer a carrier of the plague. It was then, as I tried to collapse into my bed again, that I learned my "buddies" had decided to help me out with disinfecting and had taken my cot out of my tent and burned it in one of the barrels that serve as an airfield marker at night. Then, deciding that it was starting to become unlucky, they burned the cot that had previously hosted our last two doomed fliers. Too tired to complain, I just collapsed on the ground inside the tent and slept.
Vic and Kink took pity on me and "liberated" a new cot for me. I didn't ask questions. After that, it was back into the routine. I have been spending much time becoming reacquainted with the Camel. After the few weeks in the Tripehound, I greatly appreciate the extra durability in a dive and the extra machine gun. I feel quite safe in the air.
With the proximity to Christmas, it seems both sides are content in putting in the bare minimum and the skies have been delightfully empty on my patrols. The closest we've come to action is when we saw a Hun two-seater, without any trace of escort, trying to get some glamour shots of our boys on the ground. We approached to introduce ourselves, but the Hun bravely turned tail and fled, saving us all a scrap.
The weather has certainly turned cold and the air bites on patrol. I jokingly asked why we are fighting for a land where the air hurts our faces. Kink, being from South Africa, proceeded to describe the wonderful creepy crawlies and snakes that exist on his continent. I am now even more glad that I live in a cooler climate. Ugg, could you even imagine? Spiders as big as a dinner plate? Snakes longer thank a house? I'd rather fight the Baron and his circus every day than face those horrors.
Jeffery Vickers Sgt, Rfc 41 Sqn, B Flight Lealvillers, Flanders. France 2 Victory's
Dec 13, 1917.
How rude to be pulled out of bed for a dawn Patrol and after last night too. Anyway we ( the 4 of us ) did spot and chased 2 Recon types. our ships were falling out of the sky at that height and the e/a just calmly flew home.
Fullofit, best of luck with your new machine. Hope it arrives soon.
Carrick, congrats on the MC. Dark Canuck, enjoy your Camel!
I think Geoffrey Corderoy may soon need lessons in diplomacy.
Diary of 2/Lieut. Geoffrey Corderoy, RFC Part 19: 12-15 August 1917
12 Aug 1917 – Filescamp Farm
First mission today is a ground attack on an enemy marshalling yard near Douai. There are hangovers all around, and although Bishop’s should be the worst, he has prevailed upon the Major to take Molesworth’s place as leader and Molesworth is to take the afternoon patrol. Three SE5s and two Nieuports, mine and Pope’s, beat the place up for fifteen minutes, scattering Huns everywhere and setting fire to a shed. On my third dive at the yard I take a heavy burst of ground machine gun fire through my right lower plane. It begins to warp and groan, so I pull out gently and wave goodbye to the others. Fortunately I see no Huns on my long, lonely flight home.
In the afternoon, Major Patrick leads a squadron show to rough up the Hun field at Roucourt. My journey is short, for five minutes after takeoff, still in view of Filescamp, a camshaft bearing goes and I shut down the Le Rhône quickly and glide back to safety.
The others have a good time of it, causing much consternation to the Hun with no casualties in return. Lieut. Guy, the RO, directs me and three others to fly our remaining Nieuports to the AD and return with newly-arrived SE5!
My new “grid” is outstanding. It is fitted out like a fine racing car and, like all SEs, sports a synchronized Vickers in addition to the Lewis I am now used to. Its Hispano-Suiza produces 150 horsepower and the thing goes like a bullet. One can dive it with much greater confidence than the Nieuport as well. I spend the afternoon zeroing the guns and fussing over details, and the riggers square the machine up for the morning.
Bishop had lunch with “Boom” Trenchard today. He has been told he is up for leave in a week and will not be back to France after. He said in the Mess tonight he plans to meet or top Ball’s record. He has been credited with 42 Huns to date, and needs one more to reach Ball.
13 Aug 1917
Five-thirty and we are off to the lines east of Bethune, where Hunnish activity is reported. Brimming with excitement, I race across the field and form up behind the Major, who is leading the flight. No sooner have I turned east when there is a hellish bang and violent shaking begins. I switch off. The Hisso is prone to failure of the gear reduction system. I am lucky there is still a propeller in front of me, no matter how still it may be.
Beck has worse luck. An hour before his first flight in his new SE5 he is transferred to 40 Squadron, who have had casualties. There is not even time for a proper send-off.
In the afternoon we have a line patrol on our southern sector, Caldwell leading. Nothing is seen.
Bishop claimed two more, flying alone again. The Colonel sent his congratulations, which were read at dinner. 14 Aug 1917
Another attack on an airfield today, the first time I have used Cooper bombs, which are affixed to a rack beneath each wing. They are so much more effective than merely shooting the place up, and can be applied much more safely. The target was an aerodrome near Douai. We saw a group of scouts landing at another field a couple of miles off, but we did not bother them and they did not bother us. A very good arrangement, in my view.
Afternoon patrol at 1 pm. Molesworth leads and we stand watch over a pair of DH4s that take photographs of the enemy lines from Lens up to Lille. A formation of Albatri passed beneath us on three occasions but we did not engage them. I am beginning to think the average Hun is getting windy.
15 Aug 1917
A squadron show again, this time at 5:30 am. Bishop leads and Caldwell comes along for the fun. It is one of the first line patrols in a while and we are very keen to test our SEs. The weather does not cooperate, for we have heavy cloud and rain squalls. We head north towards the scene of the fighting at Passchendaele, climbing all the way. Today we are on high patrol, up at 14000 feet where after getting soaked below the clouds we freeze solid above them.
We do not have long to wait. Barely have we crossed the lines when a formation of Albatros DVs approaches from the south and we head straight for them. I pick one that is yellow with a black tail. It zooms up ahead of me, a climbing turn that would have my old Nieuport at the edge of a stall. But in my new grid I snap quickly onto his tail and hit him hard with a good long burst. The Hun spirals down. In control or out? I follow, and suddenly break away when Bishop’s blue-nosed SE rises up directly in front of me, firing. The Hun does a snap roll and turns under us. Bishop breaks left and I roll to the right. The Hun has levelled out and I close to a few yards and fire directly into the cockpit area. I see the pilot fall forward and the machine begin to tumble. Bishop again cuts in front and I break off. I do not hear Bishop fire.
I turn I search for the Hun. We have followed him down to 3500 feet. The Hunnish lines lie below and it is devilishly hard in low light to pick out an aircraft against the ground. I see nothing except Bishop, who also seems to be searching.
I turn westward and in the distance see an all-yellow Hun heading southwest for his lines. I dive on him, the Hisso giving maximum revolutions. I close too quickly and fire only about 30 rounds before I break off. The Hun nosed down vertically at low altitude. I turn about but the Hun has vanished.
"I close too quickly and fire only about 30 rounds before I break off. The Hun nosed down vertically at low altitude."
On landing, Bishop comes up to me and slaps me on the back. He thanks me for helping “corner that damned Hun.” It is clear he believes it is his. I tell the others I must use the loo before seeing the RO. I wash and shave and change clothes and go to the office only when the others are gone.
“Did Captain Bishop mention a yellow Albatros with a black tail?” I ask.
“Let me see,” said the RO. “Didn’t mention the colour, but said he shot one down that was bothering you.”
I thought for several seconds. “Don’t mean to upset the apple cart, old boy, but I fired 40 rounds into that machine, then in a second go I put another 30 rounds directly into the pilot’s back.”
Lieut. Guy looked a little ill.
“Do what you will. I claim one yellow and black Albatros completely out of control at 2000 feet just northwest of Dadizele. I also claim a second Albatros, all yellow, about a mile south of the first one. Out of control at 1000 feet.”
“Any witnesses?” asked the RO.
“You may put down Captain Bishop, if you wish.” As I turned to leave I noticed Major Patrick staring at me through the crack in his office door.
Oh, I can hardly wait for the next episode Raine! I fear Corderoy has opened the proverbial Pandora's box !!
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DC, very apropos report. Feels like you were writing from experience Raine, I'm beginning to think Corderoy is due for another forced transfer. And now I hate Bishop. Thanks! Carrick, stay away from the night entertainment and you'll be fine.
"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."
Jeffery Vickers Sgt, Rfc 41 Sqn, B Flight Lealvillers, Flanders. France 2 Victory's
Dec 14, 1917.
Bit dodgy , We were attacking a balloon near Vimy, but lost 2 a/c. My flight did ok . I covered 2lt Roy as he got the Gas Bag and then home. A Flight seemed to have got the chop by ground fire or misfortune. as their flight consisted of the 2 lost kites.
Corderoy adds one to his score, but two others are rejected...
Diary of 2/Lieut. Geoffrey Corderoy, RFC Part 20: 16 August 1917
16 Aug 1917 – Filescamp Farm
Very happy to be writing this tonight, as it has been a hectic day with some near misses.
Up and off at 5:30 this morning, Capt Molesworth in the lead. We are to bag a Hun kite balloon north of Lille: Hunt, Pope, Chidlaw-Roberts, and me. Chidlaw-Roberts is an old Sandhurst classmate. He is new to us, but not to the RFC. He has been on Fees until now, and before that was an observer with 2 Squadron. He has taken up the empty space in our hut and is a welcome addition. He has a portable gramophone, which is responsible for making our billet a bit of a gathering place.
I have a good run-in at the balloon, with Archie all about. It smokes but does not burn so I turn quickly to have another go. Molesworth beats me to it and send the gasbag down in flames. The two men in the basket escape with parachutes, just drifting clear of the crumpled, flaming balloon. It makes one wonder why we have not got them.
We begin to form up when there is a frightful “thwack-thwack-thwack” and holes appear in my left upper plane! A group of vee-strutters have jumped on our backs and a twisting scrap starts. I see a Hun with purple and green wings pass in front and give him a burst with no result. Another Hun fires at me from close behind. I have lost too much speed climbing after the attack on the balloon, and the Hun is hard to shake off. A second joins him and I now have my hands full. Every time I just about have one of them lined up, the other hits me. The SE5 is a rugged grid. My old Nieuport would have already collapsed around me.
I get another quick shot away at a Hun when my windscreen shatters in my face. Three star-shaped holes appear in the Triplex. It is time for tea, I decide, and at the first opportunity dive for home. There is still not much height, so I pass over the Hun lines at less than a thousand feet. Every Hun in Christendom opens up at me – rifles, machine guns, Archie. I am quite sure I saw a shovel fly past. Again and again I hear bullets strike canvas, wood, and metal. My SE is handling a little odd, but the old Hisso keeps going and I soon pass over our trenches. I see the whites of a thousand faces looking up and can tell they are Highlanders. The Jocks are cheering, God bless them, as I do the aerial high hurdles over the shattered treetops.
Ten minutes later I put down at La Gorgue. The familiar cinder landing ways are difficult to put an SE5 down on, compared to a Pup anyway, but I settle in nicely. The place is home to an RE8 squadron [1] and No 35, flying Big Acks. [2] I enjoy a fine breakfast in the old mess while waiting for the tender from Filescamp.
As soon as I return I am required to mount up and join Bishop and Caldwell for an OP along the lines by Vimy. We cross at 10000 feet and spot a large group of Albatri about 2000 feet higher, harassing some RE8s and a flight of Pups. We climb to engage and drive off the Huns. They dive away and we follow, but they have too much of a lead. Just as I turn and begin to climb westward, I spy a yellow Albatros with a white tail heading east at 6000 feet over Bois-Bernard. I intercept him and we tangle for nearly ten minutes. I hit him with a full deflection shot and, as he falls out of a turn, get behind him for the coup de grâce. The Hun spirals down and crashes. The sky is empty and I set course for home.
"The Hun spirals down and crashes."
Over drinks I learn that the yellow and black Albatros from yesterday, the one Bishop claimed, has been credited to me – my third official victory. Major Patrick submitted my other claim, but Wing assigned it to Bishop. Besides that one, our resident stunt merchant has also been granted a claim from one of two flights he took alone later in the day. That brings his count up to 47, and he is now three kills ahead of Ball and quite pleased with his achievements. Major Cochrane-Patrick tells Bishop he is ordered to stand down from further flying and prepare for his leave. Bishop protests, but stands a round of drinks and I am quite happy to take advantage of it.
Despite my having describing the crash of this afternoon’s unwitnessed Hun in my report, Wing has not confirmed it and it is noted only as “driven down.” Caldwell joined me for a final drink and commented that it was rotten luck. I quoted Plutarch to him, something I recalled about philosophy allowing one to derive pleasure in any circumstance – as even obscurity can be enjoyed for it frees one from being envied.
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