Beautiful young'un there Banjoman! I hope you enjoyed your trip.

She,s a beauty Banjoman!

Congrats Banjoman, Shes a Pip.

She's a cutie, for sure!

A nice Christmas present, Banjoman. Congrats!

A good few days. Promotion to Lieutenant, and two more confirmed kills...

Diary of 2/Lieut. Geoffrey Corderoy, RFC
Part 23: 21-24 August 1917

21 Aug 1917 – Filescamp Farm

It has been a warm day in more ways than one. Wing called late yesterday evening with new orders. We were to put on an extra DOP to the Douai area to keep the air-Huns pinned down. The enemy has been pushing back hard at the Canadian along the Arras front and we need to do our bit. The Major therefore cobbled together another flight, pulling Caldwell and me off later patrols and adding Soden, Horn, and Crompton.

Our SE5s gave us no end of trouble when we first got them. Our new Constantinesco synchroniser helped us shoot off our props, and the Hisso packed it in with monotonous regularity. We had not been allowed over the lines with them for the first few weeks. But after the first month, our ack emmas had ironed out many of the problems. While they were still not ready to set endurance records, we were increasingly taking our mounts deep into Hunland.

Major Patrick led us away, six strong. We climbed to 10000 feet and patrolled east past Douai and then back to Monchy. On our second circuit, we had just passed Cantin when the temperature gauge showed that the Hisso was running hot. I gave the washout signal and throttled back, but the temperature rose until the needle rested hard against the post at the maximum position. I began to think of the Hun I’d sent down in flames a few days ago, and switch off. The better part of ten miles lay between me and the lines, but the wind was light from the south. Archie is much louder like this, I thought.


"The better part of ten miles lay between me and the lines..."

Luck was with me. I passed over our lines at 2000 feet and put down safely out of sight of the Hun, landing by a cart track in our gun lines. I spent two hours with a battery commander from the Royal Canadian Horse Artillery, a fine fellow from Nova Scotia who introduced me to the art of drinking black rum and water, although due to the lack of sanitation, he omitted the water!


Gen Currie, OC Canadian Corps, reviewing his troops who have been relieved after taking Hill 70, near Arras.

Back in time for a bit of soup and another patrol, this time escorting some DH4s on a photo shoot in our southern sector. Most the jaunt is quiet, until we get to the area of Pronville. The Major is leading again and as he turns westward, he and the rest of our group disappear behind a bank of clouds. I am bringing up the rear. Looking behind, I see two scouts emerge from some clouds about a mile behind and a little higher. I begin to climb and study them. After a few second, the leading machine banks and I see the angled wing-tips of an Albatros. The two Huns are beginning to spiral downwards, preparing to land at Pronville. And they haven’t seen me.

In a flash I close on the trailing Hun, then throttle back. My grid inches closer and closer until I am scarcely twenty yards from his tail. It takes two medium-length bursts, about 50 rounds, and the poor Hun falls over on one wing and begins spinning down vertically, streaming smoke. I dodge into the nearest clouds, expecting more Huns to emerge.

The others are not to be found, and I return after another half-hour. To my surprise, Major Patrick saw my Hun’s death-dive and confirms my kill! Number six is in the books. To top off my day, my name is back on the leave roster, and it could come soon.

23 Aug 1917

It rained all day yesterday and I was duty officer, so there was no heading for town. As a consolation, though, I learned at noon that my promotion to Lieutenant has come through. Corporal McGlashon took great delight in laying out my best tunic on my bed after lunch, two pips already in place!

The morning is drizzle, and no flights are up. By eleven, the sun breaks through and the air is hot and sultry. I am to lead a patrol at 12:30, and Captain Chidlaw-Roberts will play number two. The Major will tag along as one of the rear markers, too. We are back to the Douai area, where the air is alive with Archie and where there are more Hun aerodromes than anywhere else in France.

We are nearly ready to leave Douai and head home when I sight a cluster of EA approaching from the north. I am particularly pleased that no one else saw them earlier. I turn and climb to meet them. The fight is short but intense. Several of the Huns have no stomach for the brawl and make only a feint before diving away to the east, but I manage to get behind one and do some damage. I follow him down as far as I dare. After my final burst, he tumbles down, but the ground fire is too intense to confirm that he has crashed. The others are regrouping above and I climb to take the lead. This Hun, an Albatros, will go down as merely “driven down.”


24 August 1917

Up and out before dawn this morning. Line patrol in our southern sector, and I am permitted to lead again. This time we seen nothing and return to spend the morning in deck chairs in the shade of the orchard. Crompton is attempting to learn the penny whistle, but is appallingly bad at it. During lunch, Horn purloins the offending instrument and has a mechanic arc-weld it to a heavy steel bar.

Caldwell lets me take the lead once again in the afternoon, a five-machine patrol escorting some RE8s to photograph the Hun lines beyond Passchendaele Ridge. From 8000 feet the battlefield is an image of hell. The ground no longer resembles even a ravished countryside. Rather it seems a hideous moonscape: water-filled craters flowing one into the next, gleaming green and putrid where the sun breaks through to them. No roads, no ruins, no trees, no clear trenches, just watery desolation.

Archie is busy. We are silhouetted against low cloud just above us. Estimating height is made simple. Still, no one is seriously damaged and after ninety minutes we turn for home, dropping down to 7000 feet. We are approaching Polygon Wood when three Albatri pass from right to left a thousand feet below. How they have not seen us is a mystery, but they parade like swans. I study the sky above and all seems good, so it is a thrilling dive on an unsuspecting enemy. I pick the nearest Hun and fire from very close range. His machine immediately tumbles and falls into the mud below. There is no doubt about number seven!

Geoffrey is chalking them up regularly now I see. Also a nice pic of Currie! That's a new one for me. Nice report Raine.

Flt Lt Benjamin Kincaid
1 RNAS
Dover

The nightmares started almost as soon as I returned to England. Every night I dream of fire and death. The complacency of England makes it hard to concentrate at the best of times and how easy would it be to forget something one day. Or miss a tick in the engine. Benny Thomas learned that. Juat a loud bang and a streak of flame and smoke. I'd say it was a pretty conclusive test of the rigging.

I am not without my own mishaps. My engine konked out about 30 seconds after takeoff the other day. I had 10 seconds to figure out how to avoid the trees that rose ominously in my path.

I didnt miss them. I had to pull myself from the burning wreckage. I spent the rest of the day shaking uncontrollably and the night screaming in terror.

I am beginning to hate England. Especially as my punishment continues and I am unable to leave camp or drink. The only good news is I have passed the 25 hour mark in my logbook. Most pilots dont live that long, especially those around me.

Im trying to think of some other happy news. Christmas is in a few days. My sister sent out a package. I havent opened it yet.

The boys are making merry around Dover. The joy at being "safe" in Blighty seems to spur them on to new levels of debauchery. Drinking an women seem to be the way to fill time between patrols. It seems that Victor has fallen head over heals for a local girl and has been courting her with all the single mindedness of an ace going for the finishing shot.

The girl is the daughter of one of the local blacksmiths. I hear she is an intelligent and strong woman and is having none of his advances. It gives him something to do for the next couple months I guess.

I will be off. There is paperwork to fill out before tomorrow's patrol. Maybe we will finally find out which side my riggers are on.

2nd Lt., Rfc
41 Sqn, B Flight Commander
Lealvillers, Flanders.
France
3 Victory's


Dec 22, 1917.


Hq must be Crackers. They sent the 8 a/c Sqn on a Show the flag Monchy to St Vaast then circle for 22 minutes. Just over the lines we were scattered by 5 ? Albatross Scouts and as we reformed 5 Pfalz Scouts dove on us. I almost got a Albatross type ,but he scooted away then as I claimed I couldnt get a bead on the diving e/a. Right bank and slightly diving I shot past my last chance to bag one. 2 e/a had dropped on my tail and were shooting at me. so it was Pedal to the Metal and Run for home in the dark rainy skies. The Sqn claimed 4 Destroyed for 1 lost. + damaged to 3 a/c

2nd Lt. Mark Fairchild
56 RFC
Liettres
August, 1917

Lt. Fairchild sat on a table in the medical tent getting his arm bandaged. A nasty cut on the upper arm courtesy of the Hun archy while attacking Douai aerodrome.

Rhys Davis stuck his head in the tent. “How’s the arm ol’ boy?

“Just a nick” Mark replied. “I will be ready for the next mission Sir.”

“That’s the spirit yank! if the rest of your countrymen are as game as you we could end this show pronto! IF they were here” he said sarcastically.

Mark was used to the American jokes. It upset him at first but learned he would have to get used to them or have a miserable time. It had been a long journey to a medical table in France. He had joined the army in 1913 and served in the cavalry during the Poncho Villa campaign in Mexico. It was there he volunteered to be an observer in an airplane the first time America used them. He was hooked. Not being able to join the American air service he had gone to Canada and joined the RFC. Being in the cavalry and being an “experienced observer” he had no trouble being accepted.
He chuckled to himself at the “experienced observer” part. He may have stretched the truth a bit.

This wound came on his second mission after returning to 56. Two months ago his flight had attacked 3 bombers and just when he fired his last burst that sent the Hun machine in a nose dive to the ground the observer hit his machine and a bullet broke his leg at mid thigh. He was lucky to have made it back. How the bullet missed the artery was a miracle. His longtime wingman Fluke had been killed on the same mission he learned later. To add salt to the wound no one saw his DWFC tumble to the ground. At that his confirmed total stood at 7.

It was a long 2 months and 2 operations to get back on his feet, even though he still walked with a very pronounced limp. Still, it was good to back among his friends. He had gained their respect and they had earned his.

.

Banjoman, great to see you back in camp. And your new granddaughter, well she is cute beyond measure. Also, while the fluffy bear headgear is nice, I really think grandpa should get her an even nicer WWI-style flying cap.

Carrick, those Pfalz are really giving Jeffery and his crew fits, much more so than the Albs. As for the milk maid you encountered, she may have been selling more than apples. Also, and I mean this in the kindest and most supportive way possible, you might want to consider letting someone else give lessons on how to ride a bike.

Raine, so Geoffrey is an ace at last, high time I’d say. And up for the MC with a promotion to boot, looks like the powers-that-be have realized the man’s worth. Add to that Bishop and Molesworth both being packed off to HE and I’ve a hunch there’s a permanent flight leader’s spot for Corderoy in the near future as well. Now he just needs to see that his mount doesn’t leave him sitting on the wrong side of the mud – those Hissos are not to be trusted.

DC, Kincaid is unfortunately not alone in suffering the nightmares. Such terrors of mind and spirit, if left unvanquished, will kill a man surer than any Hun’s bullet. Here’s hoping our young flyer can find some inner peace and regain his focus for the job at hand. Certain Native American tribes taught their warriors a philosophy for dealing with war that was summed up simply as this: “Today is a good day to die”.

Mark, it’s great to see your pilot back in the virtual fray despite his immediate wounding. Methinks he needs to exercise a tad more caution. Also, on a personal note, I’m going to give the retirement thing a try myself at the end of this year. Four more days at the job and then I hang it up, not that I’m counting mind you.

Wonderful stories gents, thanks for sharing, and Merry Christmas!

.

RAF Lou: lol ur funny Thanks a lot. U R correct about the Milk Maid she also sells Red Riding Capes

Regarding the Pfalz D IIIa. When they fly lower than us, we can give them a rough going over. Equal height its 50 - 50 on a good day. If the e/a are higher than us then I know that I will loose a few good pilots that day. The Albatross D-V, D-V uprated and D-Va We ca hold our own except in a prolong turning fight. or close in and diving.

2nd Lt., Rfc
41 Sqn, B Flight Commander
Lealvillers, Flanders.
France
3 Victory's


Dec 23, 1917.


I Bagged a Green Tailed e/a over Reincort AF. The flight claimed 2 a/c. B flight had Patrol over Monchy when we spotted a flight of 3 Camels in fight with numerous e/a ( 7 or 8 ? ) far below. letting down so we could get to grips and help out, we arrived over Reincort A F. I spoted mine going into a landing circle so dropped in behind and Rat a tat, tat, tat his wing came off. ( a full drum lewis and 104 rds Vickers) The Intell Officer thinks my kill may have been a Flight leader or Sqn Leader because of the Red stripe on the top wing.

Fantastic stories from everybody in this thread!

I've been playing around with a couple of ideas for a German pilot. Depending on my real life schedule, I may enlist one soon. I really miss DID flying!

Hasse: Great to hear U R flying again.

https://giphy.com/gifs/college-seinfeld-jerry-9izBkcgrL8wOk/fullscreen

https://giphy.com/gifs/therundownbet-funny-happy-3o6fJ2VYOHh2Rzc8Uw/fullscreen

Jeffery Vickers
2nd Lt., Rfc
41 Sqn, B Flight Commander
Lealvillers, Flanders.
France
4 Victory's


Dec 23, 1917.


Afternoon Formation: The Maj. confirmed my 4 th victory. My wing mate Sgt Watson passed around a letter from his Sister telling about the War Shortages at Home.

https://giphy.com/gifs/garden-party-alexandra-dane-3o6fIQv9p2uxWd5iNO/fullscreen

These all have to be some of the best reports.
Raine, good luck with that SE5 and the engine troubles. Hope it doesn't give you too much trouble now that the confirmations are coming in more often.
DC, seems like keep getting the short end of the stick lately. Hope your pilot snaps out of that depression soon.
Carrick, congrats on the latest victory, you Big Bad Wolf!
And finally Lou, ... I didn't realize Klingons were from North America. You learn something new every day.

26 August, 1917 Harlebeke
Jasta 18

It was a beautiful summer morning. Aldi was sitting outside getting ready for the show. Today Paul Strähle will be test flying a captured SPAD. It will be quite a treat to find out what this latest French bird is capable of and how it compares to their new Albatros.
"Der Truer Husar" was playing on the gramophone nearby. On the table beside him sat the Ersatz coffee. Aldi took a sip of it and made a sour face. This stuff was terrible.
His right arm started to hurt again. He adjusted the sling and made his arm more comfortable. It was nothing serious. The gunner of the Strutter got lucky yesterday and grazed Aldi above elbow. He did not live long enough to brag about it. Nevertheless, the injury removed Schwarzkopf from flight roster for the next six days. So, here he was sitting and observing the going ons. He was already getting restless and contemplating if he should pick up smoking. He wasn’t fond of the activity, but without flying to keep him occupied he needed something to do.
Paul just showed up in his flight gear. He was now speaking with the Idflieg officials who came this morning to observe the test. They were discussing the flight plan and maneuvers they wanted him to perform. Aldi watched from afar. Once he saw Strähle salute, he knew they were done. Paul walked over to Aldi sitting at the table.
“Well, wish me luck and make sure those numbskulls manning the Flak batteries don’t shoot at this SPAD.” He patted him gently on the shoulder, reached over and grabbed Aldi’s cup. He took a gulp and made a face as if he just drunk poison. Strähle spat out the entire mouthful and looked at Aldi with reproach.
Aldi smirked and wished his friend good luck: “Hals und Beinbruch!”
Paul walked over to the SPAD, spitting every other step. The French machine was being readied. The Hispano Suiza V8 engine was already resonating with its characteristic deep rumbling. Aldi heard the story: the Spanish engine was so mistrusted by the French that to prove its reliability it had to run on the test bench at full power for 50 hours nonstop before it would be accepted. French engines had to run for only 15 hours to pass military scrutiny.
Strähle was on the runway, picking up speed, climbing over the trees and disappearing over the nearby town. A minute later he was back buzzing the airfield performing stunts as instructed. He started with simple chandelles, then advanced to wingovers and finally some aileron rolls and barrel rolls. The programme also included a tailslide, split-s, inside loop and a series of dives. These last maneuvers impressed Aldi. The speed this machine could achieve in a dive without shedding wings was impressive, unmatched by any of the German counterparts. Strähle then proceeded to make a series of low level passes over the aerodrome. One of them came so close to the windsock that Aldi thought the tip of the propeller trimmed it a bit.
“What a show off!” Aldi has never seen Paul fly so well. He made a mental note to congratulate his friend on such precise flying. Finally the SPAD was on the final approach and landing with a heavy thud. Strähle was out of the cockpit in an instant walking briskly towards Aldi. He threw his gloves on the table, making sure they don’t touch Ersatz.
“So, how is it?” Aldi was curious of the machine’s handling.
“It’s good but unstable. I nearly crashed into that windsock. The bloody thing is a death trap. I’m glad it’s them flying this brick and not us. I’ll stick with the Albatros, thank you very much.”
He slumped onto a chair beside Aldi and reached for the cup again, stopping himself just short, quickly remembering the taste of the contents. “I have to pick up smoking.” He leaned back, closed his eyes and shifted his face in the direction of the sun. Aldi looked at him, also closed his eyes with his face facing south. It was a beautiful summer morning.

Just love drinking my morning coffee, and reading these reports! Fantastic reading!

2nd Lt., Rfc
41 Sqn, B Flight Commander
Lealvillers, Flanders.
France
4 Victorys.


Dec 24, 1917.

We ran into Huns over Cambria at max Height. The Enemy Flight were a mix of Albatross and Pfalz Scouts and were diving on our 4 a/c when my motor Stopped . Bollocks! I could only nose over and try for a high speed start up. As I dove I got off a few pot shots. Then the motor caught and I was back in the fight with a Hun on my tail. In conclusion, I lost the Hun after crossing our lines. The Motor went U/S and I was able to land on a road near one of our balloons. We lost 1 pilot in that fight. No claims except for maybe 1 damaged.

OK, sometimes you need to leave well enough alone. Leaving tomorrow for my retirement trip. Going to the farm in north MS until I am tired of it. “One more mission” I think to myself. My pilot was full of himself after having his last 2 claims confirmed bringing his total to 9 in 41 missions.Today’s mission was a Railyard strike and making one more pass my wing or wheels hit something and my career ended in a fiery crumpled heap across the lines. Yep, get a little cocky and you die. One day I may even learn that lesson.

I wish you all a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Congratulations on your retirement Lou. I know you will be spending all your time making improvements to this wonderful sim for all to enjoy. Stay safe gents.

Hey guys, here is the latest status report. Since I've been gone so long please check to make sure the information is correct for your pilot.