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#4439785 - 09/19/18 10:37 PM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Darcel Limoges
Sous Lt.
Esc 95 Spads
Ochy, AF
Verdun , France
6 Victory s.


Sep 19,1918.

A little punch out with some Huns today on Escort duty. Our 6 a/c were covering 1 Recon type and had 5 e/a curve into us from above I banked after mine as he made a firing pass at the 2 seat. I waved at him to stay to the port side as I chased after the Bosche. I caught him as he slanted down for more speed and got off about 200 rds pergun. The ea rolled into a right hand haft roll and went straight into the ground West of Toul AF just before the Forest. We ended up claiming 2 a/c and having 3 damaged With 1 pilot wnd + the damaged 2 seat ,but he landed ok.

Attached Files CFS3 2018-09-19 15-14-05-15.jpgCFS3 2018-09-19 15-20-22-70.jpgCFS3 2018-09-19 15-22-12-91.jpg
#4439979 - 09/20/18 09:02 PM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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Wulfe Offline
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The Story of Benjamin A. Drummond

Part 20:

20th September 1918.

We were tasked with an escort sortie for our first mission out of Lisle-en-Barrois. We were all pretty disturbed to see a SPAD marked with the number 5 - Caufmann's old number - sitting on the ready line. The machine belonged to another egg, Lt. John Downey, who had arrived in the afternoon. Today was his first sortie, and he would be flying with Ponder, Pyne, Larner and I.

Taking off from the new aerodrome for the first time (the second for me), we headed to the RV point over Souilly on the southeastern tip of the Argonne, where we collected the Biplace (A French Breguet). Of course, the rain was back on. Poor Downey looked shaky as hell in the air. We headed towards Fresne-e-Woevre. The Breg, as far as we knew, was supposed to be photographing a section of the lines that was proving particularly tough to get through - the Frenchies wanted to know what made the Bosche in that stretch so tough.

As we flew, we broke through the clouds we met with the beautiful sight of the sun-drenched top of the cloud layer. The rain turned to drizzle and then ceased. The wind above the clouds knocked us around like so many scraps of paper, but we were glad to be out of the rain. As we crossed into the mud we passed very close to a flight of French SPADs ferrying a second Breg back home. We waved to each other, and our Bregs waggled their wings at one another in passing. We pushed on, with the winds increasing steadily as we went. At one point I throttled down so as to not overtake Ponder, and an almighty gust of wind suddenly knocked my machine sideways towards him! I dropped my nose in an instant and as I was tossed to the side I saw four undercarriages flash past dangerously close to my top wing. As I popped up on the far side of the formation, I saw Larner gesture to me, as if to say "What was that?". I shrugged, and tried to find a way of signalling back "The Wind!".

We eventually reached our target. Mercifully, there was no sign of any Huns, but we still stayed sharp. We were in their backyard now, and we all knew they sat and waited all day for us to show. Aha, there they are. Below us flew a formation of five Fokkers - they had either not seen us, or had chosen to ignore us. Still hotheaded from Caufmann's murder, I couldn't resist and I waggled my wings, before diving down. Two of them immediately broke off to the left - so they had been ignoring us. Cowards.

Now the flak picked me out, which drew the attention of two more Fokkers. Low down, they circled and lifted their noses, as if they were snapping at my heels. Not wanting to be a bad guest, I obliged and dove further down, picking out my man. I checked my tail, and realised that I had dove past two of them, who now sat level with me. Idiot, Frisk! Pay attention!. Reluctantly I used my speed to out-distance the Bosche machines. Two seemed to halfheartedly follow, and one disappeared, but one guy in particular was dead-set on getting me. He followed, full throttle, as I flew for the French lines.

Smiling to myself, I begun to weave slightly, so as not to outrun him. I led him along for a good few minutes, but the moment we crossed into French lines I swung my SPAD around and went at him head-on. The shocked German tried to pull away, but all he succeeded in doing was letting me get on his tail. He immediately turned for home and I set about my work of tearing his machine to bits with bullets. Just then, tracers flashed past me and I immediately broke...the Fokker that had disappeared had climbed up and was lurking above us!

After getting clear of the second Fokker's guns, I decided to try the same trick on this guy. To my amusement, it worked - the sucker followed me further into our own lines! His shot-up wingman beat a hasty retreat, leaving just the one. However, my plan was spoiled by the damned idiot French troops, who started shooting up at the pair of us. One soldier, presumably with great aim but poor eyesight, put a shot right through me, nearly hitting me in the process!

My friend behind me had turned off just as the bullets came up, and now I turned back on him. Whoops. Turns out the rest of the Fokker flight had come across to find out where their two missing guys went. And these three couldn't care less about the French ground fire. I turned tail again, staring at the three behind me. What the hell was I supposed to do about them? Time for something desperate.

I whipped my SPAD around again, going for another head-on pass with the machine closest to me. This time, the German wasn't fazed, and we swapped bullets before I tore through the middle of their formation. I pulled up high, dropping down and having a go at another one, but he snaked away from my guns. Okay, time to cut my losses. I dove away again before the Germans got their bearings, and simply focused on getting the hell away from them .

After I had opened the gap a fair distance, I begun to climb slightly in the direction of our home field. The Fokkers couldn't match me for speed or climbing ability at this low altitude, and so I figured that this would be my escape route. Get above them and refuse to come down, like a cat chased up a tree. The thought sickened me, but it was better than dying. After I'd gotten a fair distance above them, the rear two turned off. The guy out in front, the second one that had chased me over, pressed on.

I couldn't believe the hun would be so stupid to follow me alone this far into our own lines! Obligingly I winged over and fell upon him. Realising his mistake, he tried to turn back towards the front. I laughed out loud when I saw him do this - so bold a moment ago, eh, Fritz? I shot him up and down the line as he desperately tried to get away. As we passed each other in a loop, I saw his propeller had stopped. For a second, the image of Caufmann's horrified face behind his own stopped propeller flashed in my mind, and a deep hatred surged in me. I opened up on him as he was landing, but to my outrage both my guns jammed. I circled above the helpless Fokker, watching as he wrestled with his straps, before tugging at the cocking handles and clearing both jams. I came down at him again, firing another burst. One of my Vickers jammed again, but the other kept going, now sharing in my enthusiasm. I circled around a third time.


Upon my return, Larner was furious with me.


"Frisk, are you stupid? You know Soubiran'll give you the boot once he finds out you went off alone again!"

"Yeah, I know. I don't know what came over me. I just saw them, and-"

"You wanna be the next dead pilot?"

I stayed quiet, and Larner spoke again, in a slightly softer tone.

"I know Caufmann's death has got you feeling a bit low, but do you think you're the only one? I knew him a lot longer than you did, buddy. This is what War is like. You'll have to get used to it eventually..." he sighed deeply as the energy seemed to just, leave him. "Look. I won't tell Soubiran, neither will the boys. But you'd better get your act together before you wind up dead".

"Will you tell Soubiran y'all saw me shoot down a Fokker?"

Despite his anger, Larner smirked. "Did you?"

"Yeah, you know I did!"

He let out an exasperated laugh.










Last edited by Wulfe; 09/20/18 09:28 PM.
#4439992 - 09/20/18 09:26 PM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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Darcel Limoges
Sous Lt.
Esc 95 Spads
Ochy, AF
Verdun , France
7 Victory s.


Sep 20 1918.


Hq confirmed my Fokker Kill Now I have 7 + 3 unconfirmed. The Esc 6 a/c took off to due a Rail Yard attack. I didnt last long with a Sputtering motor then a steady power loss. Landed at Toul and lunched with the 22nd Pursuit Sqn. The motor will have to be replaced, I motorcycled back to the AF to fine my flight had 3 missing a/c all behind Enemy lines the pilots are all KIA or POW's.

Attached Files CFS3 2018-09-20 14-16-01-45.jpg
#4440078 - 09/21/18 10:28 AM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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Dark_Canuck Offline
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Canada
Welcome back Raine.

Maj Sitwell has only been up a couple times recently and no huns have come out to play, which is fine by me. I will say, having headtracking completely changes this game. What a difference in SA.

Keep the stories coming gents. You are all amazing storytellers and I am thrilled with how many amazing careers there are.

#4440122 - 09/21/18 04:40 PM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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2nd. Lt. Albert Mayes MC,
No. 3. Sqn RAF
5 Victories.


21st September 1918.

I got back to Valcouleurs about 8 PM last night and, as promised, the Squadron threw a do in honour of my 5th victory. It was a jovial affair, the drinks flowed and they had even managed to get hold of some real roast beef for our supper. Lt. Olson spent the night tinkling away, going through all the old numbers; 'Pack Up Your Troubles' was met with a particularly boisterous response, we all drunkenly sung along with our arms around each other's shoulders, and by the time we were done there was not a man who had managed to avoid having drinks spilled over his tunic!

Plenty of new faces in the mess, most of them very young. One aloof fellow by the name of Chris Barton briefly introduced himself to me, Chris was an odd sort, and very well-bred - would refer to you as "Old Boy", "Darling" and the like. He hadn't yet flown over France, but he was very keen to "Go up and give those bally huns a proper good English thrashing, eh? For the King and all that, wouldn't you say?".

After a night of decadence I returned to my old familiar bunk, feeling slightly worse-for-wear. The morning came, and I blearily sat up nursing a headache and a queasy feeling in my stomach. No time to feel sorry for myself - I was back on the active roster, and we had a patrol of the lines in an hour! On the ready line I ran a hand across my old familiar Camel, before climbing aboard. Cpt. Wallace was to lead our flight, consisting of five Camels. Franklyn, Maxted and Christenson were the other three in our little outfit.

'Archie' Flight was being led by Maj. McClintock. None of the new fellows were coming up today - I assumed McClintock would go up with them later on, on a less risky sortie. As I had been before them, they would need to get themselves acclimatised to flying over France before they could have a crack at the hun. The 10 of us went up and headed out towards Loos. I must admit, the Camel's controls felt slightly vague and un-familliar, thanks to my extended absence. However, it wasn't all so bad. It was a beautiful day for it - the sun sent its warmth to us as we flew along, observing the occasional great white crowd that lazily crawled its way towards Hunland. By the time we reached the mud, we were all in very high spirits indeed - the fact betrayed by the way our Camels bounced up and down jovially as we flew!

We had barely gotten into the mud when Wallace and Maxted broke hard out of formation. Startled, Franklyn, Christenson and I followed suit, our head whipping around and trying to see the threat. There - above us! One incredibly ambitious Fokker was circling above us like a hawk, picking out his first victim. We all circled below him, bidding him to come down and expecting an easy fight. Down he came, on a Camel right in front of me. Hah! That made things easier! In the blink of an eye I was behind him, and shooting him about. As he broke, I saw a large white 'K' on the side of his fuselage and a bright blue tail that I supposed would look very nice on the squadron wall.

I had just closed in for the kill when that damn fool Maxted flashed past within a hair's breadth of my machine, putting himself between my guns and my prey! Very much annoyed, I watched as he now took over my job of peppering the Fokker. Now Franklyn came barrelling in, forcing Maxted to break hard to avoid a collision. My, how reckless and bloodthirsty the two were being! In the confusion, the Fokker gave them the slip and had just put himself behind Maxted when I got on his tail again, and put a very nice burst into him, for which I was rewarded by seeing a black trail of smoke escape his machine. Again Maxted and Franklyn impeded my work, and the Fokker disappeared as we tried to dodge each other. "What are you doing, you pair of idiots?!" I cried out, searching around for our lost prey.

When I next saw the Fokker, he was attempting to climb towards his lines. I turned after him (of course, with my overzealous wingmen in tow) and lined up my shot. The German was either wounded, desperate, or plain hadn't seen us as he flew perfectly straight in front of me, allowing me to take as much time as I wanted to get my burst away. As I drew closer I could see just how badly shot up his Fokker was, for it seemed there was no part of it that had remained un-perforated by our guns. Once I had the sight picture I wanted, I pressed down on the trigger and watched my tracers tearing through the length of the machine. I must admit - it made me quite ill to see the phosphor of my tracer bullets slowly burning out, embedded in the hun's back. Our foolhardy foe slumped forwards in his seat before his Fokker vanished beneath my nose. When I saw him next he was still in his death-dive about 2000 feet below us. I watched the Fokker drop all the way to the ground and come to rest just behind one of our trench-lines, kicking up a great cloud of dust as he impacted the ground.


[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]


Upon arriving back at Valheureux, I was still in quite a mood. Jumping down from my Camel, I marched over to Maxted and Franklyn, pulling them both to the side.

"You pair of bloody idiots nearly caused a crash up there!"

"No, we saw each-"

"I don't want to hear it, Franklyn! Next time, pay attention!" I paused, letting myself cool off a bit. "Tell you what. Seeing as you were both so keen, you two flip a coin for the claim. I'm not putting it in". And with that I stormed off towards the mess. Maxted won the toss.

We went up again at mid-day for another patrol of the lines. This time, Smuts at the head of 'Archie' flight took two of our new pilots - Lieutenants Tepes and Riley - up with him, to give them a bit of experience over the front. They were both under explicit orders not to get involved in any fights we may get into. McClintock headed 'B' Flight - a sizable number, 8 of us, and we were to do the 'heavy lifting' when the Fokkers did show up.

We first caught sight of a pair of Rumplers over Arras, but they were too high for us to do anything about and so we didn't bother chasing after them. As we crossed the lines, I found myself interested in a strange shape within a cloud - it looked rather like a face, and a familiar one at that! I stared at the cloud-face for a while, becoming lost in thought. Soon enough we were over Monchy and, just as before, we had scarcely crossed into the mud when I spotted 7 Fokkers looming ominously above us in the distance. I waggled my wings to warn my flight, who acknowledged - we put our camels into a gentle bank away from the Fokkers, conscious of our new pilots' well-being. The Fokkers seemed to share the sentiment, and disappeared down the lines to the South. Not long after that we saw a flight of S.E.5s flash below us, headed out into Hunland.

After making a large circuit around Monchy, I again saw the Fokkers, who had come back up north - however, three of their number had disappeared, and they were now a considerable amount lower than us. They must have gotten into a scrap down south! To my surprise, they showed some interest in us this time, and begun to edge closer. I dropped down on one fellow that had edged too close to us, and once I was at his altitude the circling began.

[Linked Image]

As we circled, I looked over his machine. Black and yellow, with an anchor insignia on the fuselage and tailplane. Of course, my Camel soon caught up to the tail of his Fokker, but then I realised that this fellow must be very good - for he executed some evasive manoeuvres that left me baffled. As I watched, astonished, the Hun rolled on to his back, and using forward-stick he climbed, still on his back, out of my guns! It was a very impressive trick, and I thoroughly enjoyed witnessing the Hun's mastery of his machine, however, we were enemies and it was my duty to bring him down.

Trying to keep with my opponent's weird manoeuvres, I fired the occasional burst at him with no real joy. Eventually we found ourselves in a cloud, and here we got into a dizzying battle where I was never sure which way my Camel was facing! Not knowing if I was climbing or diving, inverted or right-side-up, I edged closer to my target, my shots creeping nearer to his machine with each burst. Eventually he flashed clearly into my gunsights, and I fired. I flashed underneath him, having gotten a bit too close with my attack and - Yes! The acrobatic Hun now had a thin trail of smoke snaking out of his machine!

[Linked Image]

Knowing my prey was wounded, I closed in to finish him off. Another burst and he fell straight vertically downward. Maybe I'd killed him, but this Hun was quite the artist and he may be having me on...Aha! About 800 feet off the ground he pulled sharply up and attempted to run for home. I dove back down, seeing through his deception, and gave him one last burst of Vickers fire. At that point his plane wallowed, went in for a shaky landing, and flipped over practically on top of a British trench. As I circled I watched as the pilot was ordered out from under his machine and marched off by a band of enthusiastic Tommies.

[Linked Image]

Being rather low now, I looked for my flight and, not seeing them, made for home. As I reached the lines I was completely gobsmacked to see two Fokkers running riot in amongst the rest of No. 3! My wingmen didn't even appear to be fighting back as these two Fokkers merrily jumped from Camel to Camel, putting shots into their machines! As I arrived I spotted Hughes being hunted down by one of the brutes, and crept up behind the German. He must have got the shock of his life when one of the toothless Camels that he was attacking suddenly opened fire on him! He tried to spiral away but I was right behind him through the move, and my tracers were crashing into his plane En Masse. In a blink his wing was off, and I had to throw my Camel into a stomach-churning dive to avoid his wreckage. To my complete and utter disbelief the Fokker wobbled for a moment, before stabilising and continuing towards home with only 3 wings left! I pulled behind him again and pressed down on the trigger...but I was out of bullets! God, this Hun has the luck of the devil! I pulled alongside the Hun, observing him as he fought to control his three-winged machine. He shot me a quick glance, and I was taken aback to see the look of terror on his face, for I was suddenly reminded again that real, flesh-and-blood men occupy the machines we fight. I suddenly found myself hoping the fellow would land safely, and so I flew along with him for a while to observe his plight. As we reached the lines I was forced to climb up on top of him, as those bloody Archie gunners were firing at the poor German. Finally I decided to leave him to his fate, and turned away.

[Linked Image]


For as long as I live, I shall never forget that bizarre moment, seeing the three-winged hun limping home.



Again, the bloody game crashed before I could file my first claim (blue-tail)...I had 3 perfectly-positioned witnesses and saw it hit the ground!! Also, how did that 3rd Fokker escape?!?! Grrr.....




Last edited by Wulfe; 09/22/18 01:13 AM.
#4440181 - 09/22/18 01:05 AM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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Wulfe Offline
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The Story of Bertram von Haas.

Part 3: Songbird.

20 September 1918.


Stretching out joyously, Bertram strolled at a leisurely pace on to the airfield, running his hand along the fuselage of his Fokker as he moved towards its cockpit. Ah, how good it felt to be free of that damned desk! Around him, pilots scrambled to their machine, the piercing alarm shattering the relative peace of the morning. Ltn. Dittmann almost leapt clear into his own machine, immediately firing up the engine and firing Bertram an infuriated look as he slowly lifted himself into his own machine. Over the noise of the engine, Dittmann screamed out "Hurry up, damn you, or we'll miss them!!".

The alarm only ever sounded for two reasons; either the airfield was under attack, or enemy machines had been sighted nearby. This morning it was the latter, and so the pilots of Jasta 13 were ordered to scramble. Bertram fired up his engine - not knowing where they were headed. That knowledge belonged solely to Ltn. Buchner, who was just now taking off. His 10 subordinates, Bertram included, soon followed and together they climbed southwards towards Saint-Mihiel.

Not feeling the urgency of the situation in the least, Bertram grinned as he lifted into the air, as that insufferable desk in the cottage behind him got smaller and further away. Above his head, the deep grey clouds loomed over him and warned him back, the wind swirling in fury and urging him to return to the ground, where he belonged! Staring up into the brutal sky, his grin widened. Oh, no...no, I'm supposed to be up here! he challenged the elements in his head.

Almost in approving response, the sun flashed through the clouds, illuminating the formation of 11 Fokkers. Bertram turned to face it, and as his head turned he caught sight of four of his colleagues splitting away from the formation, scattering to every side. In an instant he knew the enemy was close - but where were they?

Silhouettes flashed across the clouds like black lightning above the heads of his colleagues. Bertram strained his eyes, and tracked one such shape. Under his scrutiny it revealed itself to be a Spad. Ah, there's another! And two more! Bertram grinned, cocking his twin Spandaus. To be given the chance to make a kill so soon after his return to the sky, ah, it was a gift! The deep green nose of his Fokker lazily came around to point at the French machines, and the challenge was set. Immediately, two French pilots reacted, and down they came in dizzying spirals, down to kill him. Bertram weaved his Fokker in between the two machines. In doing so, one flashed past his head, almost close enough for him to reach out and touch! As it passed him by, he took note of the insignia on the side. A swallow against a yellow square. It would make for a pretty trophy.


[Linked Image]


Flak begun to burst around him, aiming for his pursuers, but this only added to Bertram's mood. What a good fight this would be! Tracers flashed past his machine, and he quickly looked over his shoulder to see one of his opponents behind him. Pulling the stick into his stomach, he looped away from the Spad and begun to circle left. As he gazed over, he saw the two Spads, almost in formation, circling with him. Savouring the thrill of the fight, Bertram begun to sing. Despite the furious wind drowning out his words, he jovially belted out 'Argonnerwald', an old favourite of his. As he danced with the two Frenchmen, he sung of their home country. It almost looked as if they were goaded by his words, as he watched their elevators twitching, straining, to tighten their turns and get behind him to send him hellwards. He responded, tightening his own turn, knowing all the while that his machine was the superior one in this kind of fight. "Argonnerwald, um Mitternacht, Ein Pionier steht auf der Wacht!" The nose of Bertram's Fokker slowly reared around to face the tails of the two Spads.


[Linked Image]


Finally getting behind his oppoents, he pressed down on the trigger and white-hot tracers flashed towards the rearmost Spad, cutting thin, wispy lines of smoke through the air. The French machines split apart. Ein Sternlein hoch am Himmel stand, Bringt ihm 'nen Gruß aus fernem Heimatland! Tearing through the sky after his prey, Bertram started to close in. Just then he looked over his shoulder, seeing the second Spad now chasing him. He laughed out loud, these two were tricky! Two more machines flashed over his head, but these two were Fokkers. Ach! The fight was spoiled. But the hunt was still on! Und mit dem Spaten in der Hand, Er vorne in der Sappe stand! Bertram jubilantly raised his nose into the sky, avoiding the tracers of another Spad that had now entered the mix. Soon he found himself behind this opponent.


[Linked Image]


The Spad in front of him dove down towards the earth, Bertram in tow. At the last second, both machines pulled sharply up. Thinking he had escaped, the French pilot straightened out, just long enough for Bertram to take aim, but at the last second he saw the danger and snaked away to the right. Mit Sehnsucht denkt er an sein Lieb: Ob er sie wohl noch einmal wiedersieht? It was too late. Bertram's fire found the Spad, and it begun to shudder and tremble, as if the machine itself knew that it was done for, before falling towards the earth. Bertram's eyes gleamed as it came closer to the trees below, before shattering in a mess of splintered wood and torn fabric. Und donnernd dröhnt die Artill'rie. Wir stehen vor der Infantrie...the words were whisked away by the wind and fell around the now burning wreckage of the Spad. As Bertram turned back towards his airfield, he saw a second Spad, fighting tooth-and-nail against a Fokker in amongst a cloud of flak. His smile flashing white above his flying scarf, he turned his machine towards the combat. He drew nearer, and smiled as he recognised Niethammer going about his work. he was behind the Spad now, but below; he had no shot. In that case...


[Linked Image]


Granaten schlagen bei uns ein, Der Franzmann will in unsere Stellung 'rein! Tracers flashed into the Spad. In a panic the French pilot attempted to climb away from the two hungry Fokkers below him, however, Bertram was scoring hits. Eventually, the Spad got on top of the two Fokkers, although he had been shot about in doing so. Bertram defiantly lifted his nose and shot another burst into the Spad, causing the pilot to react and turn too hard in the climb. His machine stalled and fell back down into the clutches of the two Germans once more. In a flash Bertram was upon him, his Spandaus roaring into life. Pieces of canvas were cut away from the Frenchman's wings as he desperately twisted every which-way to escape his pursuer. Circling above, Niethammer watched with a curious eye, keen to observe the new upstart pilot's ability in the air. He smiled, pleasantly surprised, as Bertram's tracers found their way into the French pilot's back, and the Spad rolled over with its belly to the sky before falling upside-down into oblivion. Er frug nicht warum und nicht wie,Tat seine Pflicht wie alle sie! Bertram laughed the words to his song as he and Niethammer turned for home.



The two Germans landed together, and Ltn. Niethammer bounded over to Bertram as he lazily climbed down from his Fokker. "von Haas, that was some display! The poor Frenchman hardly stood a chance!". Bertram smiled slyly, and shrugged. "Herr Niethammer, I think I owe you an apology. That Spad was rightfully yours!". The Leutnant laughed, and slapped Bertram on the back. "Ah, but you're right, von Haas...perhaps we must toss a coin for it! Come, let us lunch now, and celebrate your victory!".

As Bertram walked alongside Niethammer, he hummed to the tune of 'Argonnerwald'.


Sorry about your wingmen, Carrick - It's a hell of a war!














Last edited by Wulfe; 09/22/18 01:55 AM.
#4440182 - 09/22/18 01:22 AM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Darcel Limoges
Sous Lt.
Esc 95 Spads
Ochy, AF
Verdun , France
7 Victory s.


Still waiting on my replacement motor. Although not confirmed by Hq. Rumor has it that my wingmates were lost to Green/Blue painted Fokkers One had a Wolfe painted on its side.

Last edited by carrick58; 09/22/18 01:23 AM.
#4440246 - 09/22/18 02:34 PM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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Wulfe Offline
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The Story of Benjamin A. Drummond

Part 21: Dying in France.

September 21st, 1918.


Today's going to be a toughie. Soubiran's having us patrol over the top of a Bosche aerodrome halfway between Spincourt and Hussiguy. Larner (or DeFreest as he now permitted me to call him), Dolan and I crowded around Johnnie Downey, each of us offering our advice to the egg. It would be his first time going over to the Bosche side, and he was quite nervous. Smart Kid.

"Okay, Johnnie. Firstly, if any Fokkers show up try to stay out of the fight and watch if you can. Better to know what you're getting into beforehand" Dolan explained, as Johnnie meekly nodded along. "Also, if you do get into a fight, and you get a Bosche on your tail, dive away! Our machines are faster than theirs". DeFreest added.

I ran a thumb across my lip. "Most importantly, if you take a hit - any hit - get home. Believe me - you don't want your engine to quit on the Bosche side". DeFreest nodded. "And stay with the formation". As he said it, I caught him giving me a warning glance.


We took off around 8 AM, into a thankfully un-stormy sky. It seemed the worst of the weather was behind us. I stuck close to Johnnie as we approached Verdun - below, the whole earth seemed alive with movement - troops, trucks, tanks, artillery...all getting ready for that big Argonne push. I scrutinised the ground for a moment, but caught movement ahead of me out of the corner of my eye. My head snapped up, and I saw my wingmen breaking off every which-way...in a panic I looked up - five Fokkers were sitting directly on top of us, in a near-perfect 'V' formation, regarding us from above with annoyance. I broke, too, waiting for the Fokkers to come down.

[Linked Image]

And, down they came. I caught sight of Soubiran chase after one and moved to help him. Just then I turned around, to see another Fokker diving in on me, just about to open fire! I looped to the side, and when I looked back two SPADs had him on the ropes. The German came back at me and I almost blacked-out throwing the SPAD into a dive to avoid colliding head-on. Disoriented, I looked back up at the fight, and quickly spotted DeFreest, alone with a pair of Fokkers. I climbed up and stood my machine on its nose, firing a burst at one of the Fokkers. Angered, he came down to get me now, and so we looped around each other. During a stall-climb, I noticed that DeFreest now had another SPAD with him, and both of them were behind their hun.

I wasn't doing so well with my Hun. He'd quickly got behind me, and was staying with every manoeuvre I pulled to shake him. The bullets started hitting my machine, and I resorted to pulling the nose up into a stalling climb. The German didn't follow, and so I kicked the rudder over and rolled over, diving back down onto the German's six and firing a long burst into his back. Undoubtedly wounded, the Bosche pilot made a feeble attempt to evade me, but I soon had his wing clean off.


[Linked Image]


Flying back towards the fray, I soon saw DeFreest above me, still pursuing his Fokker. I also got a good look at the second SPAD with him - it was Johnnie. I grimaced. Just you be careful, kid... I thought as I watched him. Just then, DeFreest put a burst right through the Bosche machine, and a great cloud of steam erupted from it before it went into a strange wallowing half-spin half-dive down through the clouds, totally out of control. Good shooting, DeFreest! I linked up with my two wingmen, and we quickly saw our compatriots busying themselves with another pair of Fokkers about a mile north of us. We flew to help, but to our glee we saw both Fokkers fall to earth before we'd even gotten close!

Having knocked down four huns, we turned for home, all with cheshire grins slapped across our faces. Soubiran claimed one of the other Fokkers, but nobody had seen what happened to the fourth. Back on the field, I saw DeFreest ruffling Johnnie's hair. "Good flying, kiddo!" he shouted, and Johnnie nervously laughed. When I asked DeFreest later, I found out that Johnnie had flown like a man with twice his experience - not shooting past DeFreest in hopes of a victory, making sure his wingman was well-covered, keeping out the way but also close enough to be of use. Seems like he'll do well here!

We were in high spirits as we prepared to go up again in the early evening - 4 PM - on a patrol over the Puvenelle Forest. Monk was at the head of our formation, with Soubiran and I hanging back and watching over Johnnie. As before, he had the same orders; avoid combat if possible, observe and learn. By this time the sky had reverted to its favourite gloomy grey, but thankfully there was no sign of the rain. Monk was feeling particularly bold, and led us through the pocket in the lines at St. Mihiel, issuing a challenge to any Bosche in the area. I looked over concerned at Johnnie...Come on Monk, we've got the kid with us!. The flak started to come up at us and I saw Johnnie react, but he stayed with us. We crossed back over into our side at Puneville Forest, having thankfully encountered no Fokkers. However, I did see a big formation of 7 of them about 1500 meters below us as we got to the lines. I pointed them out, but frustratingly Monk simply shook his head. Fighting the urge to drop down on them, I flew along in the formation, telling myself I needed to keep an eye on Johnnie.

We flew back-and-forth between the Puneville Forest and Lac de Madine and, apart from the low Fokkers, we didn't see a single other aeroplane, let alone a Hun! I found myself quite bored, but after considering this I decided that any Fokker-less sortie was a good one. Oops - spoke to soon! Monk suddenly waggled his wings and rolled his SPAD over, going into a steep dive. Surprised, I looked below us and saw that same pack of Fokkers. They'd been shadowing us from below, climbing up to fight us, and Monk had finally had enough of their insolence. I cocked my Vickers and followed my wingmen down. However, the Fokkers had flown through a wispy layer of cloud, and we struggled to keep our eyes on them. uh-oh, these guys were clever. I picked out a pair of Fokkers flying close to each other and dove down on them from the front, spraying bullets wildly at the pair of them before zooming past and extending away. Looking around, panicked, I realised that I'd lost sight of Fokker and SPAD alike. Just then I felt a sickening jolt, as my SPAD whipped severely upwards. What the hell was that?! I turned round and saw a Fokker falling in flames, breaking apart as it fell.

[Linked Image]

I turned back, and in horror realised that I'd collided with the enemy machine. I dove out of the fight, checking over my machine. Nothing...seemed wrong...turning around I saw that two Fokkers had followed me down. I tried desperately to escape my two pursuers, but they were hot on my heels. Just then, Tobin came screaming out of nowhere and put a savage burst into one Fokker, which immediately broke off. Okay, now I just needed to get the other guy away from me. We twisted at low altitude, scissoring left and right. With every reversal another stream of tracers passed my machine. This was bad. I took note of Tobin nearby, his Fokker was in a bad way, smoking and wobbling like a foal. Sensing he'd put the guy out of his misery soon, I tried to get closer to him, but the Fokker behind me wouldn't let me straighten out for a second.

[Linked Image]

I pitched up to escape the Fokker, and bullets smashed through my machine. I jolted in my seat, and immediately knew that something was very wrong. Tobin, having shot down the other guy, again came back to bail me out. I turned to see Soubiran about a mile up the line, struggling to hang with another Fokker. Now clear, I flew to help the boss and put a burst through the Fokker. Just then, a thin red line seemed to snake its way downwards across my goggles. Confused, but thinking nothing of it, I turned to attack the Fokker once more, but my first shots must have been good because when I next saw him he was a burning mess on the ground. The red streak thickened, and then another formed, and suddenly I became aware of a sting on my forehead, then a dull throb in my side. I suddenly begun to feel incredibly dizzy, my vision starting to blacken. My head dropped, and then snapped back up.


My SPAD quivering through the sky, I pointed towards our lines. I needed to get down, now. Fighting consciousness and the ever-increasing pain in my head, and my side, I brought my SPAD down in a field just behind the lines. My head jolted downwards again as I hit the ground, and I just let it roll to a stop of its own accord. It ground-looped as it did so. The pain was now screaming at me, and I groaned loudly, blearily looking down. I went cold as I saw that my uniform was soaked through with blood. Reaching a trembling hand to my head, I ran my fingers across it and pulled them away to see them red with blood. A fresh wave of panic surged across me. That #%&*$# hun had killed me! I was going to die!

Another SPAD landed alongside mines and Soubiran jumped out of it, sprinting over to my machine. "Drummond! Aw, hell, look at you!" He shouted, panic now flashing in his face. Now I was certain I was done for - I'd never seen anything faze the boss before. I cried out in pain as Soubiran dragged me from my cockpit, leaving a dark red streak down the side of my machine. Throwing me over his shoulder, he ran towards the lines. "He needs help, now!" I heard him cry as he ran.

I heard several voices calling out in response, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Just then I gave in to the dizzying tiredness, and my eyes closed, sending me into blackness.








Last edited by Wulfe; 09/22/18 02:35 PM.
#4440314 - 09/22/18 08:58 PM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: Wulfe]  
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2nd Lt. John B. Goode
147th Aero Squadron, USAS

Friday, September 20th 1918

Davy’s body found in his SPAD near Dampvioux. His body’s being buried at Issoudun. Going to have to write his folks, guess I’d better get to it, Dora too, don’t know what I’m going to tell her, certainly not the truth.

Peterson let me pack up his affects. Found all his letters, put them in a parcel that I’ll mail to his folks.

Escorted photo bus today, no EA. SPAD working great, purrs like a kitten.

#4440368 - 09/23/18 03:14 AM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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Darcel Limoges
Sous Lt.
Esc 95 Spads
Ochy, AF
Verdun , France
7 Victory s.


Sep 22, 1918.

Up in the rail for a Rail yard attack. As we crossed over NML the Visability headed dom to 0/0 so fired the washout flare and landed at the 1st friendly field.

#4440430 - 09/23/18 03:55 PM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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Darcel Limoges
Sous Lt.
Esc 95 Spads
Ochy, AF
Verdun , France
7 Victory s.


Sep 23, 1918.

Local area Patrol in the rain. Chased 3 Recon Types Near Toul, but no luck.

Attached Files CFS3 2018-09-23 07-58-58-43.jpg
#4440461 - 09/23/18 07:59 PM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: carrick58]  
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2nd Lt. John B. Goode
147th Aero Squadron, USAS

Saturday September 21st 1918

Got word Walley is a prisoner. Would have saved Davy to have heard that earlier. Not much on crying, didn’t do it when packing up Davy’s things but broke down after lights out, spent most of the night rubbing Pup.

Two routine patrols, saw EA but they ran. I can see how Davy felt, I want to chase every one I see and set him on fire. Not going to let that get the better of me, use my head, stay alive, go home.

#4440507 - 09/24/18 07:12 AM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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The Story of Benjamin A. Drummond

Part 22: Still Kicking.

September 24th, 1918.


When I'd finally come to, I was in some kind of field hospital. No sign of Soubiran - I guessed he'd already made his way back to the Squadron. The nurses weren't quite as pretty as the boys had told me. I knew they were all full of it. Even if they were - I doubt I would have been in the mood for chasing after them. The Hospital tent was a scene of chaos...Infantry soldiers, mostly French, but some Americans and even one or two Germans, lay in amongst scratchy bloodstained sheets, groaning, coughing, mumbling incoherently to themselves. Many had been separated from their body parts - across from me lay a young French Caporal who had lost both his legs. The 'whole' guys merely balled themselves up, tucking their arms and legs in to their bodies as if they would be stolen away unless they kept them close.

As I was repeatedly informed by the nurses in their broken English, I had been very, very lucky. One Bosche bullet had grazed past my head, leaving a line of torn leather in my flying cap and twisting up one of the clasps on my goggles, but only leaving a thin gash running above my right eye. One inch to the left and the same bullet would have splattered my brains all over the altimeter. A second bullet had caught the end of my hip, chipping away a couple fragments of bone but again not passing close enough to do any severe damage.

Admittedly, I felt like the archetypal war hero as I sat with my cigarette, head all wrapped in a mess of bandages, as the nurse had checked up on me this morning. After she had re-dressed my wounds, she had left me with a couple letters from the aerodrome. The first was from Monk, who had also had a lucky escape in the fight (A bullet had grazed his forearm at some point). It read:

"Dear Frisk:

Was glad to hear you're okay. We were worried when we returned without you and Soubiran - Dolan thought you'd had it after you disappeared on him. The Breakdown crew's got your SPAD home safe and sound. Get well soon.

- Frank
.

The next letter down was from Soubiran, and came attached to a small black rectangular box. As I had expected, Soubiran's words were short and to the point:

"Drummond. Here's hoping you recover swiftly from your wounds. I am pleased to inform you that three of your claims can now be confirmed. Congratulations. The British sought fit to reward you for your exploits. Please have a look inside the box this letter should be arriving with.

-S.


Three confirmed? That made seven in total...Curiously I lifted the lid of the box. Inside, to my surprise, was a medal. More specifically, a British Military Cross.




Last edited by Wulfe; 09/24/18 01:34 PM.
#4440601 - 09/24/18 04:31 PM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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Darcel Limoges
Sous Lt.
Esc 95 Spads
Ochy, AF
Verdun , France
7 Victory s.

Sep 24 1918.

Our 3 a/c was up in Zee rain covering AF's . We did spot and chased 2 Recon types,but they were so high that our machines stalled and fell out. RTB

Attached Files CFS3 2018-09-23 07-59-18-07.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 09/24/18 04:32 PM.
#4440604 - 09/24/18 04:37 PM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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Hey Guys, U always find something new in this game. Spotted high above my pilot ( had to use the labels ) 2 Rumplers dog fighting a 2 engine G-4 Unbelievable !

#4440658 - 09/24/18 10:51 PM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: carrick58]  
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That's a new one on me Carrick, any winner?

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

Sunday, September 22nd 1918

Routine patrol and Alert.

Got everything mailed off to Davy’s folks, letters to his people.


Monday, September 23rd

Raining, no patrols left the ground.


Tuesday, September 24th

Marr is being reassigned. Rick will command the 94th now. Being promoted over the heads of officers senior to him, but nobody’s complaining, They all know there’s not a better man for the job in the Air Service.

I led a gang of 5 SPADs on a routine patrol this morning, didn’t find any trouble to get into. Escort in the afternoon.

#4440672 - 09/24/18 11:55 PM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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2nd. Lt. Albert Mayes MC,
No. 84 Sqn. RAF.
5 Victories.


22nd-24th September, 1918.

My, what a busy few days it's been!

Early on the 22nd I was informed, to my disbelief, that I was to be transferred to No. 48 Squadron, and that this would be my last day with the chaps from No. 3. We flew two patrols that day, and on the second the Boelcke Staffel appeared to throw me a farewell party. We had a terrific fight in which I forced one fellow down inside his own lines (unfortunately nobody witnessed this feat). Sadly, Maxted was killed in the affair. That night we all got terribly drunk, and I said my fond farewells to the chaps. I shall sorely miss them.

The infantry truck appeared to pick me up the next morning, and I practically had to be carried from my bed by two Corporals, as I was very ill from the previous night's decadence! After a long drive we arrived at Assevillers, where I was introduced to my new Squadron. They were all top fellows, and one chap by the name of Beauchamp-Proctor had scored 45 victories! After meeting my colleagues, I was shown to my new machine. By god, it was an S.E.5! I was not scheduled for any flights that day, but I took my new crate up all the same to put her through her paces. She is simply wonderful - light handling, far less temperamental than the Camel, great climb and blistering speed. And the visibility is second to none!

The following morning I was sent up with 'B' flight (like No. 3, this was my assigned flight) on a balloon-busting sortie. The weather was still glum, but I flew the entire time with a grin slapped across my face, thoroughly enchanted with my powerful new machine. I'd all but forgotten about my 'Lucky Red Camel' which I'd donated to Franklyn as a parting gift!

Cpt. Peter Southey, 'B' flight's leader, got the sausage. Afterwards, to my great surprise, the Major permitted Tobias to take me on a hunting trip over the lines! We didn't dream of such things in No. 3 - much less with only two machines! We soon found trouble, attacking a flight of four Fokkers. Of these four, we managed to shoot one down in flames and shoot-up two more. I didn't have a single bullet left when I landed. Tobias was awarded the victory - his eighth! The next morning he was awarded a D.F.C. Although I am terribly fond of the chaps at No. 3, I must admit, this new gang felt a lot more like killers, rather than survivors. Perhaps I had misjudged S.E.5 pilots!

[Linked Image]

We were back at it again on the 24th - In the morning we escorted a D.H.4 from No. 205 all the way to Amenieres. We saw quite the sizeable amount of Hun activity on the way, but the Bosche kept their distance. Later, on a lone excursion I downed one of those twin-tail two seaters over its own airfield. Naturally, the victory couldn't be confirmed.

7 Claims thrown out in the last week. Frustrating, but at least I'm developing a knack for air fighting!


[Linked Image]

#4440794 - 09/25/18 08:32 PM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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2nd. Lt. Albert Mayes MC,
No. 84 Sqn. RAF.
5 Victories.

25 September, 1918:

11 of us went up today - what a formidable sight! We decided to go hunting over Bapaume, and before long we had spotted a large group of Fokkers crossing the lines. Naturally we fell upon these artists, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that they were old friends of mine - the Green-Tailed Staffel from which I'd claimed my first victim! A second staffel appeared and we got into a grim furball. I knocked two down in the fight, but again my claims were thrown out. I must admit - I am becoming slightly annoyed with the infrequency of which my claims are awarded. My official score currently stands at 5 - however, I believe the true number to be closer to 12!

It's not all bad, though. I've been awarded a 48-hour pass, which I intend to spend in Paris.


Last edited by Wulfe; 09/25/18 08:33 PM.
#4440807 - 09/25/18 10:04 PM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: CatKnight]  
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Darcel Limoges
Sous Lt.
Esc 95 Spads
Ochy, AF
Verdun , France
7 Victory s.


Sep 25, 1918.

Zee Bosche are fighting hard. All the papers say that Zee Hun is loosing, But here in Zee air its Hammer and Thong. Mon Dieu ! Late in the day a Patrol of the lines, our section of 5 a/c run into a full Jasta at least 10 Fokker Scouts with Black and white stripes on Zee tails. Its was our best flying getting away from them. No claims, but 4 of ours were shot up. Mine was hit real hard as 3 of them took turns making diving firing runs. We are lucky to get back.

Attached Files CFS3 2018-09-25 14-34-25-50.jpgCFS3 2018-09-25 14-45-20-79.jpg
#4440824 - 09/26/18 12:04 AM Re: DiD Centenary Challenge [Re: carrick58]  
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2nd Lt. John B. Goode
147th Aero Squadron, USAS

Wednesday, September 25th 1918

The 1st Pursuits mission for the show is direct support of ground troops, combating any low flying Huns and balloon strafing. 2nd and 3rd Pursuit will do the ceiling work for us. Not looking forward to more low level work, It'll be the death of us all.

Hartney sent our flight, under Alk. up to an advanced field, an abandoned German airdrome outside the village of Brabant-en-Argonne, NE of Clermont, almost right up on the Line, to launch attacks on the gas bags.

He sent 8 SPADs from the 27th under Jerry Vasconcells and a flight from the 95th under McLanahan to two other advanced fields.

Luke came back early. Crazy fool couldn’t stay away, didn't even visit Foutain Blow, (1) said he was bored and didn’t want to miss the show, all he thought about while he gone was trying out a new technique for busting balloons.

(1) Fountain Blow - cryptic reference for the houses of prostitution in Paris.

Last edited by jerbear; 10/02/18 09:44 PM.
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