Wow, the stories just keep getting better.

Luthor Linderman
Underofficer, Zwei Flight
Briastre, Flanders.
Jasta 3
6 victory's

March 25, 1918.

The Jasta patroled the West side of II Armee's Offensive . We spotted numerous e/a and attacked some high flying Sopwith's. They came down fast and scattered my flight of 6 a/c. Our top cover broke up and turned for home ( that was the last I saw of them ) I had a Camel on mt tail that I could not shake so entered in a shallow dive and headed for a Balloon site when the ground fire came he turned for Home. On my way back, I spotted two Sopwith's low and slow so bounced them. One went home the other stayed and we turned and burned ( he did ) I saw him go down smoking and crashed on our side over by Lens. Landed at a friendly field with 30% Fuel and 17 rds left in the guns and over stressed flying wires so will be here tonight.

Bob, I ran out of fuel just before landing. I forgot to include it in the story.

Great reporting MFair, Jerbear and Carrick.
Hope Johnny’ll do well and one day they’ll sing songs about him.
MFair, it’s too bad the enemy does such a great job at disengaging from a fight, but then flies straight and level as if not expecting to be followed.

Thanks for the encouragement. I think Johnny will be pretty good once he finally gets to the front. I have enjoyed the stories from all of you since before I got into WOFF they were a big influence in helping me decide to jump from ROF to WOFF. They give you the FEEL of the game. Keep em coming.

Here is the latest status report.

Tnx Banjoman

Luthor Linderman
Underofficer, Zwei Flight
Briastre, Flanders.
Jasta 3
6 victory's




Flew back to base this morning, no one lost in the last fight. I talked to the Hauptman about claiming my Sopwith. He said " No witness then no Kill " Besides they put and Arty Bombardment in the reported area so even if you look , You will not find anything so do not file. Dismissed

Jerbear, wonderful story. Another literary among us!

Banjoman, thank you for the stats.

Carrick, sorry about the claim. You have the great satisfaction of serving the Fatherland.

Jerod Jackson
Auchel
November 26, 1917
Escort 2 RE’s to bomb supply depots north of Cambrai. Met 2 seaters with no problem and headed over the front. Southeast of Monchy they suddenly turned home. I scoured the skies to find the trouble but could not see any. At that moment my engine went bonkers and I just made it to a road near Bapaum for a forced landing.

Lounging in the mess that afternoon 4 of us were called for an intercept mission near Messines. Using a spare machine we headed off to do our duty. Southeast of Armentiers I spotted 2 machines escorting a DFCW about a 1000’ above and ahead. Climbing to meet them one of the escorts, a silver Phalz, dove to attack. We went round and round for a few minutes and I got the upper hand and sent him crashing into No Mans Land. Climbing for altitude I could not find the rest of my flight so returned to base. My flight came in soon after. They had pursued the other craft with Barclay claiming 2 and Henderson claiming another. It was a good day for 43.

November 27,
Rail yard strike at Loos Junction. Approaching the target I saw 3 machines down low. Apparently they had just taken off. I dove on a Phalz which turned away. The other 2 came after me and I turned to engage. I engaged a blue DV with a red nose. With my second burst the pilot slumped forward and crashed into the ground. I then joined my flight in turning Loos Junction into a flaming inferno. We all made it back with damaged machines.

The afternoon patrol was canceled as we did not have enough undamaged machines to fly. My two claims were confirmed bringing my total to 11. While we drank and sang into the night the poor mechanics and riggers stayed up making sure could fly in the morning.

What a DiD storytelling renaissance! It seems like I've been out of the fray forever and I'm missing the campaign. Every time I have a few days where there will be lot of available flying time my guy gets wounded!

Carrick, your guy is racking them up. Be careful with this one! MFair, Nice photo of the Pfalz on 24 November. Stay safe! DC -- I loved the shot of the Baron overhead. I think I would have crapped myself and been toast meeting that crew.

Maeran -- damn, I missed you. I absolutely loved your cock(ing handle) and bull story. Laughed my head off. Brilliant stuff, mate!

Jerbear -- really great beginning here, and your notes were fascinating. It will be great to have a "Sammy" pilot in the mix. Please keep the installments coming.


Corderoy is working himself up for a return. His feelings reflect mine at the prospect of mastering the Camel as the air war gains in intensity.


Diary of Maj. Geoffrey Corderoy, RFC
Part 42: 21-26 November 1917

26 November 1917 – Etaples

Hollow days. Checkers and light reading, dressing changes, medical interviews, walks, and bad meals – one day following another. Have read Fantomas in translation, and let my diary slip until today. Must try to fill in the lost time. [1]

On Friday the 23rd we received letters at last. A long one from Catherine, detailing some long tale of an insufferable doctor and a tyrannical matron, and the contempt of nurses for VADs. She wants a transfer to France. Then one from the parents. Mummy is concerned about Catherine. Is she perhaps in the family way by the late Scarborough? Why else would a young woman be so forward with a dashing pilot she has met for scarcely an hour. Unseemly. Dad is equally unkind. Your squadron mate’s fiancée, after all. Still cold in the grave.

It’s not as if these ideas haven’t passed through by addled and punctured head of late. I find myself anxiously awaiting mail from Catherine, yet wondering if I am merely amused by her. In truth, I can scarcely recall her face, and feel no great surge of longing. Her letters amuse me. And then, in the cold and dark hours of the night, I question if perhaps I have closed myself off to happiness. She does, after all, seem to be attached to me. Who is she?

Etaples is a miserable place, overrun with soldiers training for the front and military police. There is a major here from the Manchesters, chap named Greening. We walked yesterday to the empty sands at Paris-Plage, where we stripped to our cotton long drawers and dived into the icy waters. It was done on a dare, but wonderfully bracing. Then along came a redcap on a horse and placed us under arrest for being out of uniform. I suggested he bugger off, which he did not find amusing. Greening explained to him just how to do what I’d suggested, and now the fellow became distinctly unfriendly and drew his revolver on us! At this we gave ourselves over as his prisoners and let him march us back in our long underwear to the Provost Marshal’s. We were placed in a cell and were by then dry enough to get dressed. When the sergeant-major in charge came to fetch Greening and me, we were in full officers’ kit. Greening sported an MC and bar, and I a VC, DSO, and MC. We were released in minutes without seeing an officer, and were happy to be able to greet our capturer outside and bid him farewell in the patois of the troops! There is no wondering this place saw such a rebellion two months ago. [2]


Soldiers training at the infamous "Bullring" at Etaples -- a dreary, sandy training area where many of the instructors had not seen combat, but many of their students had.

Thousands of soldiers pass through the many camps here, being fattened for the slaughter. The war is like a prize fight where the combatants, blood-streaked and staggered, pummel one another senseless while the afternoon slips to evening. There is no victory here, just the avoidance of defeat. The Americans are nowhere to be seen, yet the Russians seem ready to pack it in. I fear the worst is to come.

There is news of a victory near Cambrai, with many tanks through the Huns’ third lines. We wait in vain for confirmation of a breakthrough, and every day seen the hospital trains disgorge their butcher’s loads. I am in a very dark place and know that I must die before this all is done. I play with the idea of writing Catherine and telling her to stop writing me, but hate to hurt the girl. Nothing seems to hold to me except the thought of my next patrol on my return to Pops. The ships at harbour unload their cargoes of war goods, the makings of fortunes for men who have never seen the mud and murder, nor smelled the gas and putrefaction.

Today, the headaches have begun to subside. I managed to place a call to RFC HQ, now back at Fienvillers, and got through to Maj. Baring. I asked to be allowed to return to the squadron, if necessary to perform only administrative command duties until cleared to fly. I am doing no good here and the place is doing me no good. He promises to get back to me soon.[3]

Another long walk this afternoon with Greening, who is returning to the front. We have a good heart to heart. “This war thing,” I told him, “is just a process. You can’t beat it, and it does the soul no good to cling to the idea of going home or having a life after it. Perhaps that will happen, but likely not. Not if you’re going to pull your weight here. The thing – the only thing – is to do what you do as well as you can do it.”

I have set myself the goal to beat Bishop’s 45 Huns. If I do that, it will not matter if I am killed. I would like to go back to SEs, but Camels it is. One takes things as they are. It is a process.

Notes:

[1] Fantomas is the arch-criminal villain in a long series of French pulp novels. He is a master of terror, a truly evil disguise artist pursued by the intrepid Inspector Juve. The first novel in a long series, Fantomas was published in 1911. The first English-language version was published in 1915. Maurice Baring recorded that he was reading it in late November 1917, and it is speculated that Corderoy passed his copy along.



[2] In September and October 1917, British and Commonwealth troops training in Etaples had rebelled against repressive conditions and officious military police. On 9 September, a New Zealander had crossed the estuary from Etaples to the fine beach area of Paris-Plage, which was off limits to other ranks.
Cut off by the rising tide, he returned by the bridge, where MPs arrested him as a deserter. Anzac and British troops showed up en masse to protest and matters got out of hand, with MPs killing a Scottish soldier and a French civilian. Mutinous disturbances reoccurred into October, resulting in one execution and dozens of lesser punishments.

[3] Trenchard's HQ had been back in St-Omer, but transferred to Fienvillers (Candas) on 21 November 1917.

2nd Lt. John B. Goode
147th Aero Squadron USAS

March 26th 1918

Train pulled in to Tours at mid-morning yesterday. We stopped at Argentan but started out again after only 10 minutes. Wolf (1), Miller (2), Porthole (3), Gorman (4) and Deuce were left behind. They caught the next train and rejoined us last night.

Whitey (5) looked after Mickey during Deuce's absence.

We all went looking for quarters as soon as we could. The Lafayette Club could only accommodate half of us, so we flipped for it. We losers went to the Hotel d'Universe. It proved just as crowded. Most of us ended up sleeping in the smoking room.

Dewey and I found quarters this morning at the Hotel Modern, but during lunch, the Major informed us that we're all to report to the old YMCA at the AIC this evening to be quartered there. This is where I am as I write this.

The YMCA is pretty spartan but it'll do. There was a lot of grumbling from some of the boys who'd found rooms in private homes. They were looking forward to warm rooms and a bathroom with a shower.

The Major told us that Tours is a primary training field, so there's not much for us here. We'll be moving on soon, to the advanced school, 3rd AIC at Issoudun. Orders to move will come at short notice, so we're ordered to say close.

The enlisted men are being re-equipped, as much as possible, from salvaged items turned in by other outfits.

1 - Lt James A. (Wolf) Healy, A Flight, later B flight, credited with 5 victories

2 - Lt John C. Miller, reassigned at Epiez with 4 other officers of the 147th to the 12th Aero Observation Squadron. KIA 28 July 1918, credited with 2 aerial combat victories.

3 - Lt George J. (Porthole) Brew, C Flight.

4 - Lt Norbert D. Gorman, Engineer Officer of the 147th, assigned 13 Feb 1918.

5 - Lt Wilbert Wallace (Whitey) White Jr., served as C Flight commander, credited with 8 aerial combat victories. Killed 10 Oct 1918 near Dun-sur-Meuse when he sacrificed his life, colliding with a Fokker that was attacking a new pilot in his flight. He left a wife and 2 children.

Luthor Linderman
Underofficer, Zwei Flight
Briastre, Flanders.
Jasta 3
6 victory's



March 27, 1918.

Got into it with SE's on the Dawn Patrol. what a mix up. Our flight Lt. led us under a flight of e/a ( not a bright Idea ) The Brit's circled to dive on our tails so I broke left going under them. They hit and scattered our kette's. I swung around and fired at passing e/a as 1 of ours went down. It was then I saw a lone SE pop out of a cloud at a lower altitude. Diving, I got both Guns firing and held down the triggers. Bullets ripped all over the E/A then the a/c just flipped over and over like a leaf in the win to crash 1700 meters below. by then , the sky was clear so RTB. Jasta lost 1 Destroyed W/pilot KIA + 2 pilots wnd. My Kill was the only one claimed.

The quality of storytelling here is top notch. Well done everyone. Particularly, welcome Jerbear. Lets hope John does well, as I'd like to see how your wonderfully detailed style does in action.

Speaking of wonderfully detailed. Well done on the Etaples episode Raine.

And now here is the next part of Bob Stanley's story.

---------------------------------

The CO's car arrived ahead of the recovery truck at Acq. Major Tyson got out first and waved across one of the sentries.

“Second Lieutenant Stanley is under open arrest, corporal. He is not to leave the aerodrome.”
“Yessir.”

Tyson marched Stanley to the squadron office and waved him towards Dawes.
“Make your report Stanley, and then get out of my sight.”

Stanley was walking back to his quarters when Slessor stopped him.
“Are you alright Stanley? Where is Kennicot?”
Stanley shook his head, “Tyson has put me under arrest, so I shouldn't be talking to you. Kennicot has gone to a clearing station, but he is in a bad way.”
His flight commander frowned. “What happened? Last I saw you, you were gliding well.”
“I landed alright. Bloody bull got him.”
“A bull? Hell's bells! I'd never have expected that. Why are you under arrest?”
“Good question. Could be fleeing in the face of the enemy, criminal damage or poaching. He hasn't said yet.”
“Er... right. Look, be careful Stanley. I'm going back to Blighty tomorrow. Artillery school. Don't get yourself shot before I get back.”
“I'll try not to. Say hello to old Albion for me.”

Stanley didn't see much difference between close arrest and open arrest. He could wander around the aerodrome, but not leave it. He could not go into any mess or other entertainments. Close arrest was much the same, but he would have been confined to quarters and have an escort to keep him company. It was a bit boring really.


On the next day Tyson wanted Stanley to go up with Lieutenant Denton to bomb the lines near Dixmude.

“I can't sir.”
Tyson's face twitched. “You can't, 2nd Lieutenant?”
“No sir. I'm under arrest,” Stanley explained. “An officer under arrest is not supposed to leave his camp or barracks. I would also require an escort.”
“Well, Hurst can be your bloody escort! He'll be your observer too. We need pilots in the air, not quoting the regs!”
“Very good sir.” Stanley replied, “Have you prepared my charge report sir?”
“What?” Tyson blustered.
“Well, sir. I don't know what I'm charged with yet sir. And I should be informed within twenty four hours. We're a bit behind now sir.”
“What are you charged with? Damn you! You machine-gunned a bull! You got Kennicot killed!”
“The bull killed Kennicot sir, but I take it the charge is criminal damage to livestock, sir?”
“Yes!”
“Very good sir. I'll report to my flight now sir.”

Stanley could feel Tyson's rage burning the back of his neck as he walked from the office to B flight's hangar. It was a dangerous game and he knew it. Bob tried to work out his odds in his head. Slightly in his favour, he reckoned.

The bombing went as well as normal. The RE8s stopped for fuel at la Gorgue on the way back. Oddly, the fuel had been not quite enough to get home. The crews took the opportunity to borrow a car and visit the bull field where they set up a crude cross for Lt Kennicot.

Tyson was waiting for Stanley when he returned. The 2nd Lieutenant was put under close arrest and confined to his quarters when he was not flying. Stanley managed to avoid antagonising the CO any more this time, but grinned as soon as he was in his room.

On the 20th, Denton led Stanley over the lines to bomb Houplin aerodrome. Stanley let his bombs go over the aerodrome, but was pretty sure that he didn't hit anything.

As they were crossing the lines again, 3 Albatros scouts attacked. Stanley dived and sideslipped to escape. This time, the Germans followed him. He took the RE8 down to treetop height, in order to restrict the manoeuvrability of his attackers and give Hurst a better chance of hitting back with his Lewis gun.

One black and white striped machine was mishandled by its pilot, and smashed into the ground. This cheered up Stanley and made the other two think again. This RE8 was not quite the easy prey they had expected. They turned for home and Stanley and Hurst were safe, if very low.




They landed a little while later back at Acq.

“Well flown, Stanley,” Hurst patted his pilot on the back. “You saved our skins there and no mistake!”
“Any time, old boy! You are claiming that Hun aren't you?”
“I don't think I hit him... but yes, I shall include him in my report. Didn't he crash lovely?”
“I'll say.”

The next day was wet and stormy. All flying was cancelled and the officers spent their time in the mess. Stanley was summoned to the squadron office.

“I'm dropping the charges against you, Stanley,” Major Tyson informed him. “It seems that you bought the bull from Monsieur Ardan?”
“An offer of good faith, sir,” Stanley tried not to laugh at his good fortune. “He said that Eduard was prime breeding stock, worth 900 francs. I think that he was too aggressive, but offered Monsieur Ardan the 900 to buy a new bull. I hope that the next one isn't as dangerous, sir.”


The next week mostly too stormy to fly. When the gales did stop, B flight went up on artillery jobs.

On the 27th, the artillery observation was in the vicinity of Oignies. Stanley was absorbed in his corrections when Hurst tugged on his shoulder.

3 Albatros scouts were diving down to attack. Two were making for Lt Reynold's RE8 and one was lining up on Stanley.

Stanley rolled and kicked his rudder, throwing off the attack. The Albatros attacking him was a deep blue colour and it turned to follow him.



Lt Reynold was making a flat turn to give his observer the best firing line. It also presented a clear shot for the two Albatri. It was the last the Stanley saw of the other RE8, but he knew they were doomed.

The RE8 has no advantage over an Albatros scout, Bob Stanley knew. His only chance was to limit his opponents options, even if it also limited his. To do this he descended in a series of crazily skewed S turns.

Here and there, Hurst would let off a burst of Lewis fire. Holes also appeared in the wings of Stanley's RE8.

Then a miracle happened. Hurst fired off on last burst of machine gun fire and the Albatros dived into a tumbling spin. Stanley watched as the German scout span into a field of sheep, scattering the herd.

Stanley looked around, hardly able to believe his luck. The other Albatri were nowhere to be seen, and they had actually shot their assailant down.


When they landed at Acq, Stanley took a minute to sit at the controls and collect his thoughts. Hurst clapped him on the shoulder.
“Nicely flown. I think we might make a good team, you and I.”
“Let's hope that the old man doesn't clap me in irons for Reynold and Black.”
“It's a shame about them, yes. There was nothing we could do to save them.”

Major Tyson did have something to say to Stanley.
“You're going to 40 squadron. I hope that you don't get any of them killed.”

Maeran it is good to have you back. I have sure missed your writing.

All excellent stories, from some true masters! There are so many it is hard to keep up without unfairly missing someone. Thank you, all of you!

Great story, Maeran. Gripping stuff. Once your settled at 40, perhaps you can treat Major Tyson to a fly-over. Drop a turnip on his office, even.

Maeran, somewhere there is a German pilot held under arrest on his base and somewhere there is a French sheep farmer counting money.

top rate story

Luthor Linderman
Underofficer, Zwei Flight
Briastre, Flanders.
Jasta 3
7 victory's

March 28, 1918.

The Jasta did a balloon burst today. We flew down the Western side of the pocket then dove on the Balloon. The Lt. got the Bag, but we lost Underofficer Emberger He left behind a wife, 9 kids and a Mistress + 2 dogs. I also stopped off at the farm down the road to let his Milk Maid friend Know his fate He would have also had a case of Wine vintage 1902, but we drank that as we packed his stuff. In addition, Hq confirmed my SE from yesterday seems it came down by a hospital unit. Intell thinks its from 84 Sqn and Elite unit.

Jerbear, Raine, and Maeran, excellent tales Gents. Such literary skills you all possess.
Carrick, You seem to be doing well. Stay out of those hospitals and beware of the nurses.

2nd Lt. Jerod Jackson
Auchel
39 missions
14 victories

Nov. 28, 1917
Morning patrol
I lead 3 machines of a patrol around our own field. Near Bruay I spotted 5 machines above. When they peeled off and fell on us like rain I knew they were Huns. A green tailed machine flashed past and I latched on to him. I hit him good and he went into a spin and I followed. Going too fast I lost my vision which scared the pants of of me! I bliped and eased up and when my vision returned he was a mile off trailing vapor. I went after him but just out of firing range a SE came down from above and scored an easy victory. The SE pilot gave me a wave and I waved in return. We will not print what I said. All of the patrol landed safe.

The afternoon show was an attack on Vimy Junction. We hit it hard. Landed at Bruay by mistake which resulted in my being the butt of many jokes at mess.

Nov. 29
We were told to head back to Vimy. Approaching Vimy I was surveying yesterdays damage and looking at the stack of new supplies when something told me to look behind. Turning my head I saw the Albatros very close on my tail. I pulled up and to the right as bullets hit my machines wings. If I had not reacted they would have been in my back. Climbing back up Barclay was on his tail and had him smoking. He broke off and headed home. I did not want to come back so made a run on the new boxes of supplies scattered about. Pulling up from my 1st run I saw B flight attacking so I made 2 more runs then joined up with them and returned to base.We all took damage.

Nov 30th.
We have a full compliment of pilots for a change. Barclay and myself were sent on an intercept mission near Messines. I spotted 2 rumplers headed southeast. I turned into them and sprayed both machines from front to back as I passed by. Bullets hit my machine as I crossed their tails. Turning back to engage I saw Barclay approaching them from the rear for an attack. "Your way to close and flying too steady mate!" I thought to myself. At that moment Jackson saw Barclay dive away. He did not follow him but engaged the 2 Rumplers, one of which Barclay had smoking. Jackson took on the other and with 3 bursts the Rumplers wing came off and he dropped like a stone over no mans land. Jackson turned toward to other but as he approached the keen eyed gunner sent a burst into him that seem to rattle the whole machine. Jackson dove away and headed back to base not seeing Barclay. At 5000' over the mud his engine quit and he glided to a safe landed on a road on the friendly side of the lines.

Back at base he learned Barclay was killed. This news got to Jackson as he had grown to like the Sargent. He was a good pilot and as brave a man as any in the squadron. Maybe a little too brave. Jackson skipped mess and stayed in his tent that night. Barclays death and the two holes just behind his cockpit had Jackson wondering if he would ever make it out of this mess alive.

Dec. 1st.
The Rumpler was confirmed. Jackson had filed the claim with no witness but it seems the balloonatics has seen the whole affair. The morning patrol had Jackson leading 2 machines on a DOP. Through the clouds he saw Roulers. He was off course. He should be over Mennen. Adjusting his course they approached Mennen. Jackson spotted 3 Albatros trying to sneak up behind them and the flight turned to engage. He damaged one but did not follow it down. Circling, Redding formed up with him and they continued the patrol. On their third round from Mennen to Little an Archie blast pitched Jacksons machine up and to the left. There was also a sting in his leg. Jackson headed home. For the second day in a row his engine quit and he landed just over the lines near one of our positions. The patched up Jackson's leg, just a scratch, and off he went back to Auchel.

That afternoon Jackson led a flight of 3 to Patrol Friendly Territory from Albert to Abbeville. Climbing to 8000' and still in sight of his home field they spotted 2 DFWC's above which turned east. They climbed and followed. Overtaking them above Hesdigneu Jackson engaged 1st. He had one smoking with 3 bursts and it dove right with Tremain following. Jackson engaged the other and with 4 long bursts the top wing collapsed and then it exploded and dropped like a flaming stone. Robert and I finished the patrol. Back at base I asked Tremain if he had finished the 1st one off and he said "No Sir! It was yours. He went straight in." Both victories were confirmed that night as both had crashed near Hesdigneu.

Sim Notes. I realize I am a few days ahead gents but will be out of pocket for a few days. Stay safe.