Fido Iggy Bedlow Sgt Rfc 19 Sqn Estree-Blanche, Flanders, France.
June 29, 1917.
I flew defensive Patrol with 7 a/c the sky was dark gray heavy rain clouds vis 3 miles. No Contact.
Intercept: 1506 hrs the phone rang Enemy bombers over Ypres. B Flight was on the stanby roster so off we went with 3 a/c + 2 Rovers got off from A Flt. Same Heavy clouds swelled by rain. at 8000ft we got hit by e/a's I got off a few shots then got jumped with one on my tail finally, The rovers came in and shot the e/a down My flight never saw any bombers. RTB. The Sqn claimed 1 e/a. no losses. The C.O. put to work as in Maintenance since I was a Bicycle sales and repairman The effort is to improve the a/c availability in the Sqn. We have 20 a/c but only 7-8 are up at any time due problems with Motors or lack of parts.
Last edited by carrick58; 06/29/2008:37 PM.
#4527980 - 06/30/2003:17 AMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Fullofit - Ziggy's doing some damage. This Träger is worse than the Flying Kill Stealer Pastor. Will it be sabers at dawn like in "The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp" or just an old-fashioned arse-kicking?
MFair - Blurring the lines are we. Well done. Fish story or it never happened. So the Badger has a stripe coming. This will play well avec les femmes.
AceMedic88 - Excellent write up. Nothing like easing the new guy into the carnage. Glad Reginald survived his baptism of fire. Good idea with the scotch. Pups are showing their age for sure. Hope he gets a tripe soon.
Lou - Freddy's opened his account in style. Well done. Well written.
28 May 1917 54 Squadron RFC Flez, France
0550 hrs. Line Patrol this morning. Old Mossy Face and points 5 miles SE. Pixley led me, Sutton and Nobby. Towering dark clouds, heavy with rain. Got soaked until we climbed above 8000 feet.
Pixley waggled his wings and dove down through mixed clouds. A two-seater! Visibility awful. We lost contact with Nobby and Sutton. Pixley went in ahead on the DFW then broke off.
I stalked the DFW from below, but he was moving too quickly. I was beginning to think this was a bad idea when the bright streaks of tracers flew past my head.
A ripping pain tore across my left shoulder. Instruments shattered and two large holes appeared in the windscreen. Was the tank holed? I couldn’t see any leaking or smell petrol. Please be intact. Time to go home!
My shoulder stung like hell, but when I moved it around the pain didn’t hurt any worse. Maybe it was just a superficial flesh wound. I kept poking it with my right hand trying to ascertain the level of damage, but it was useless with the glove on and it hurt. I was alone. My compass was blown apart, so it took me some time to find my way. Finally, I saw the pitiless bronze spearhead of the Étang de Trefcon in the distance and landed at Flez shortly thereafter.
Cpl. Fredericks was quite cheerful as he painfully tended my shoulder. “You’re lucky, sir. ‘Tis but a scratch.” Lucky indeed. The last thing I wanted was another stripe on my left sleeve. One was plenty.
1400 hrs. We would attack the Rail junction on the St. Quentin North spur line. I’d never hit a Rail Yard before. How a single Vickers and 8 rockets were going to damage locomotive cars was an open question. No opposition into or at the target. Strugnell led us through four times. As far as I could tell, we did no damage at all. We need better weapons for this.
Landed to a large crowd and some amazing news. Two decorations!! Pixley’s MC has come through and Strugnell will add a bar to his. Long, long overdue, especially Pixley’s. They are two of our absolute best. The Squadron is abuzz. Tonight will be a legendary Prize Binge. Ackers will be disappointed to miss the party. Monty too. Oh hell, I just remembered I’m on the early show in the morning. Tomorrow is going to be painful but tonight we celebrate!
Last edited by epower; 06/30/2001:35 PM.
#4528004 - 06/30/2011:10 AMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Joined: May 2012 Posts: 4,040RAF_Louvert
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
Fullofit - Congratulations on Ziggy’s award! Here’s hoping he breaks the curse.
Epower - Oliver was a lucky fellow, those Hun two-seaters will kill you if you’re not careful. Hope his head isn’t too bad for the morning show, but when it’s time to celebrate…
Carrick - Nice livery on Fido’s kite, I particularly like the checkerboard cowl. To your question on the Bristol, it is a treat to fly! Not quite as nimble in a turn fight as the Alb, but more than makes up for it in speed, fire power, and durability.
#4528026 - 06/30/2001:41 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
28 June 1917 11 Squadron R.F.C. La Bellevue, France
The claim from the morning sortie for the DFW brought down by 2nd Lt. Frederick Abbott and Lt. Thomas Yale had been called in and confirmed even before ‘B’ Flight had returned from Bapaume that afternoon, all three teams having landed at that aerodrome after suffering engine trouble during the sortie. It was discovered that the Rolls Royce Falcon engines in the trio of Bristols had been starved out due to dirt and sediment in the petrol. After the AMs had flushed and cleaned the tanks, lines, filters, and carburetters, and refilled the buses with clean, fresh fuel, all was well. Upon their return to La Bellevue the situation was addressed with the ORs responsible for the situation and assurances were made that such negligence would never happen again. Apparently one of the green Ack Emmas had not been filtering the petrol beforehand, nor was he being particularly careful about ensuring the stoppers on the petrol barrels were kept on tight, if at all.
That evening during dinner, Major MacLean congratulated Frederick on his first victory and the entire mess raised their glasses to the young pilot. His G/O said a few words about what an outstanding job Abbott had done in handling the situation and was sure he was destined for great things. Frederick then stood, flashed his enduring toothy smile, and thanked the assembly.
“Gosh - not sure what to say, fellows. It’s jolly good to be here, serving with you all, just toppers really! Thomas old sport, you’ve been a godsend, showing me the ropes as you have - couldn’t have been easy, I’m far from the best student.”
Frederick paused a moment as laughs went up from the table at his last remark.
“Good lord but I’m bally awkward at this”, the young man continued with a grin. “But by Jove, it is marvelous being here, taking it to the filthy Hun - King and Country and all that. So - well - here’s to the lot of you. Cheers!” Abbott raised his glass as the entire room did the same.
“Now sit down Freddy you great lump, the sooner we’re done with dinner the sooner you can be treating us all to rounds!” It was Lieutenant Colin MacAndrew, the young pilot’s flight leader, who yelled, while at the same time launching a bread roll. Others followed suit as Frederick dropped to his chair and held up his napkin as barrage cover.
Later that evening things got a tad squiffy, though not as much as they could have had the CO not reminded his men that there were patrols scheduled for all three flights first thing in the morning. Despite the desire to continue into the wee hours, pilots and observers alike took MacLean’s reminder to heart and called it a night shortly after eleven.
#4528078 - 06/30/2005:51 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Reaching 15 hours The Diary of Flight Sub-Lieutenant Reginald Capell, No. 9 Squadron, R.N.A.S.
29 June I was in the mess around 0400 when the sound of a light rain was heard on the roof. My gut hoped that this might call of any chance of a morning show as B-flight was tasked with any intercept calls. It only lasted a few minutes before it passed, leaving behind scattered drizzles. A-flight took of at around 0430 for the dawn patrol. At 0450, we were notified of two-seaters north of St. Quentin. Pierce led the five-man-flight to the lines, reaching 12,000, my Pup begging for mercy the entire way as I continued to struggle to keep up (I'm really beginning to hate the Pup, which is a shame since it was such a joy to fly back during training, but now it's so inferior it makes my heart stick in my throat). We noticed a lone two-seater below us and it noticed us instantly, following the normal routine of diving full-speed eastward in into the clouds. Suddenly, Pierce rocked his wings and pointed up - a massive V-formation of 8 Albatri. My horror was subdued when I noticed that just above them and behind were five more specks, which turned out to be A-flight, the luckiest and most welcomed sight ever.
The furball was enormous. 18 aircraft twisting and turning. I spent most of the time avoiding hitting other Tripes. A Pup followed an Albatros in a dive, firing into it. It was Morley, one of the other few unlucky to be cursed with the thing. I found a Hun alone turning on Pierce and I slipped onto his tail. I pressed and fired into him and gave him a good welcome. I saw him begin to leak fuel and thought that this would be it. I'd finally have my first confirmed. That split-second thought was crushed when, once again, my gun jammed and I had to break away and level off to fix it. I hate the Pup, I hate my cursed disadvantage, but nothing, and I mean nothing, feels worse than feeling helpless and a sitting duck without a working gun and having to fix it when the Huns are swirling around me. The jam didn't last long and I was able to turn back into the fight. Within moments all Huns were gone and we were left scattered about. I found Pierce and Mellersh, and after a good ten minutes of circling around he gave the signal to head back. When we returned we found A-flight, many of their Tripes with holes in them. Morley was ecstatic, he got one and was sure of it. He just needed to wait for confirmation.
After lunch, Mott led a group of us north to Havrincourt Wood, more two-seaters.This show was less eventful. We circled about and didn't see anyone, not even a friendly two-seater. I lost the formation in a cloud and had to make the journey home by myself. Once I returned I found that the rest were already back and were ready to report me missing. Mott had a few choice words to say to me.
Morley's Albatros was confirmed, and on top of it, he was due for leave and would head back to England the next day. The mess was alive that night. The drinks never ending, the singing was loud, horseplay all about. For a moment I had forgotten I was on the front line and had pleasant nostalgia of the days at Eton. With the celebratory mood, I learned a lot more about my squadron mates and flight leaders. I learned Boutillier was from America. Mott, Whealy, and Banbury were all from Canada. We represented many of the Commonswealth's colonies. I don't know how long we celebrated, but at some point I had found my in my berth and realized that I was being shaken awake for the morning patrol. 30 June Pierce led B-flight at 0545 for a line patrol East of Tergnier. Scattered drizzles were about but visibility was rather fair. Once at 12,000 it didn't matter. We followed the line for a good half hour before we noticed two DFW's slowly making their way south down the line. Pierce rocked his wings and Banbury, Boutillier and myself all followed. Pierce and Banbury took the first pass at the lead Hun, which dove to the east quickly. Pierce began smoking and turned west. My heart sank for a moment to think he might be in serious jeopardy. Boutillier and I made passes on the second Hun. Boutillier with his Tripe had the advantage of speed and made his pass, the Hun only veering slightly to the left to head east. As I made my pass, I pressed down and let the gun go. It caught flame! I was excited but mortified to think of what that would be like. I shuttered to continue on and turned back. I found Boutillier and Banbury circling behind me and we made are way back north. As Banbury made the motion to return home, two Albatri appeared from above and gave us a shock. A quick fight ensued and Banbury and I took on one as Boutillier disappeared with another. We took turns shooting at the Hun, who was clearly inexperienced, mad or both as he tried to make a turn for home. I got on his tail and unloaded what I could before I watched him turn up, roll upside down, and spiral out of control, crashing between the lines. Banbury gave my a thumbs up and we returned back. I put in the two claims, Banbury stating that he saw it crash, but hopes it can be confirmed. Boutillier apologized, saying that he thought his shots might have caused the two-seater to catch fire, and didn't have eyes on me until after I had passed it when it caught flame. Either way, they would look for confirmation and, if confirmed, we'd share it. Pierce returned an hour after us in his slow, moving Tripes. He had some damage and hoped it would be fixed by tomorrow.
At 1400, Pierce and Mott asked for four volunteers to accompany an escort mission. Since Pinder, Banbury, Mellersh and myself were the only four in the mess at that time, we were instructed to get going. We rendezvoused with three RFC BE2's, 6 airman that undoubtedly had it worse than I thought I had it. They flew incredibly slow and even I had issue with keeping a slow enough speed to keep eyes on them. They were to drop a few bombs on the rail station in north St. Quentin. We watched as the bombs landed in the field next to it, a waste if you ask me, but everyone made it home unmolested.
We returned back and I inquired about my kills. Still no confirmation, but to be patient. Sometimes it just takes a day to get ground confirmation. I'd be lying if I didn't say I'm impatient waiting. It would nice to be on the board with a kill, but it would be impressive to have 2 in only the short time I've been with the squadron. Pierce mentioned that reaching 15 hours is a good sign, as the average time is about that for new pilots in both the RNAS and RFC.
Perhaps I'll write a letter home to see how the family is and update them on my exploits. I'll probably leave out many of the details I've written here.
I got fired as the door man at a sperm bank. Apparently it's in poor taste to tell leaving customers "Thanks for coming."
Former U.S. Army Medic - SGT.
#4528083 - 06/30/2006:27 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Fido Iggy Bedlow Sgt Rfc 19 Sqn Estree-Blanche, Flanders, France.
June 30, 1917.
Offensive Patrol East end of sector: 19 Sqn's 8 a/c were at 13000ft when spotted a flight of Huns 1000ft lower. The leader put us in a downward turn into high side a bunch of the Baron's Flying Circus boys. Good pilots they were , we didnt hit a thing. I was lined up 200 yards fired after 6 rds he just rolled away . Another just turned inside so I just fired into empty air. As one e/a was dropping on my tail, I nosed over for Home at full power. We had 1 a/c stay and turn fight. He was shot down + 2 Spads damaged. A Long and ruff fight.
Afternoon Intercept: Alerted to a flock of e/a's on the West end by Ypres , B flight put up 5 a/c, One had motor problems and turned back, The 4 of came across 2 e/a Scouts at the same height. My leader got one, I saw the # 3 a/c chasing a e/a down on the deck never saw him again. Losses 1 spad enemy 1 DIII
#4528093 - 06/30/2008:43 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Ace, a strong start to young Reggie. By the looks of it, he will need a few more bottles of scotch. Congrats on the first two kills, no just to get them confirmed ...
Carrick, you should have kept the gum. You could “fix” your engine with it. You can’t do that with a bucket of paint.
Lou, Träger is on the naughty list, for sure. And to keep those stogies for a later resale he’d need a humidor. Ziggy doesn’t have one, neither does he know anyone named Monika to put them in a safe place. Thank the Gong Fairy for me for the Iron Cross. Hopefully that’ll be the only cross to see for some time. Congrats on getting that DFW. Freddy is learning the tricks of the trade very quickly. The way GE goes about it, he’ll have bread rolls thrown at him each evening.
Epower, Ziggy prefers the “arse-kicking” option. That was a close one! Who attacked poor Oliver? Was it the DFW gunner or its escort? And that binge, I can imagine it already ...
4 enemy planes claimed by Ziggy were now confirmed. The one that was forced down was stolen by Träger again. That swine! This morning Jasta 17 has been sent to intercept intruders over factories at Ploegsteert. Ziggy lagged behind the rest of the Schwarm in his rust bucket as usual. He saw a bunch of hostiles jump the vanguard. As the attack unfolded the enemy planes flew past and continued on. One of them went above Zygmunt and he followed. He could see Buckler follow as well at higher altitude. “The Bull” reached the enemy two-seater first and shot it to pieces. The Strutter went on its side and dove straight down. Buckler followed him down and Ziggy decided to stay high and look for another victim. He noticed one in the distance, but another Albatros was already following it in a dive. Probably Träger. Then finally Hahn found his prey. His Albatros picked up speed when Ziggy put it in a shallow dive and closed in. Too fast! He had time just for one quick burst before zipping by. He went around for another pass, this time with a more reasonable rate of speed. He lined up and opened up with both guns. He scored solid hits, but nothing fatal. As he turned for another pass he noticed his Albatros was trailing a faint ribbon of vapour. The rear gunner was lucky and punctured Ziggy’s petrol tank. He disengaged immediately to get his bearings and land as soon as possible. He realized he was flying in the opposite direction. Quick bank and a turn corrected that. Ziggy had to grin, for the enemy plane did exactly the same in reverse. They both realized they were flying in the wrong direction. As they passed each other at a safe distance, each pilot eyed the other, ready to take evasive action if the opponent decided to have another go. Thankfully they all have had enough. Soon after Ziggy’s tank was empty, the prop began to windmill and stop completely. Hahn completed the rest of the journey by gliding all the way down to Rumbeke aerodrome.
Fullofit -- that encounter with a certain "F" labelled Bristol was a nailbiter. I'm sure the Englishman thought it was topping. And with three more claims, Zygmunt is already a five victory Kanone. Congratulations on the EK2.
MFair – so glad that it was just a graze for Harris. Promise to keep that cowboy in one piece!
Carrick – Longstreet, we hardly knew ye. Welcome to Fido Iggy. Or is it "Figgy"?
AceMedic – great start to Reggie's story. New Guy Syndrome has affected us all at one point! I'll keep my fingers crossed for his claims.
Lou – Freddie did a splendid job bagging that DFW. He showed great patience and maturity, or rather he likely did exactly as he was told. Either way, good job.
epower – You had me worried approaching that two seater. I keep watching Fullofit's videos for pointers, but every time I try to stay behind and below one of those things I and up writing stories about Berlin!
Hans-Dieter Vogel is finally back in action after more than a month. His first few days back have been truly an adventure…
Tagebuch of Fw Hans-Dieter Vogel, EK2
Jasta 26, Iseghem (Izegem), Belgium
28 June 1917
Staffelfuehrer Loertzer kept me busy on my return. He was interested in my experience working at the Hotel Adlon during my leave and suggested that I could be of service to the Jasta while my wings were clipped by “tuning up” the meal service in the Kasino . To that end, I brought in a local woman who was an excellent cook to teach some French magic to the kitchen staff and I taught the mess stewards how to set a proper table. But most importantly, I navigated my way into the local black market and found a farmer who was willing to have the occasional pig “stolen” for the right price. And just when we were ready for a decent dinner, orders came through for us to move north.
The British had begun their summer offensive around the ancient cloth-trading town of Ypres so we were moved to a field outside of the town of Iseghem, which the Flemish call Izegem. I have not before experienced a change of aerodrome and am amazed at the amount of work that goes into it. The Jasta’s column of lorries full of equipment and stores had to be seen to be believed! I travelled with the mechanics and the pilots stayed until the very end to fly to our new home. The town of Iseghem is of a fair size and straddles a broad canal. It is not quite as ugly as the low brick coal mining communities of eastern France. We share a field south of the town with Jasta 27, commanded by Leutnant Goering, whom I met when I arrived at Jasta 26 and who is a great friend of Leutnant Loertzer the Elder. Our office and Kasino have been established in a large country home and several nearby houses have been requisitioned as billets for the officers. The non-commissioned pilots are supposed to get billets as well but the boss is in a dispute with the mayor of the town over the number of houses we need. I have no doubt it will be resolved quickly. For now, Steinmesser and I are back in our tent.
Today I am cleared to fly at last. It is a gloriously bright morning. For the first time I roll out my new Albatros. The engine is somewhat more powerful than the older type yet the difference in speed is minimal and it is no more manoeuvrable so that is a disappointment. Also, I am warned that the troubles we experienced with the DIII’s wings twisting under stress have not been entirely fixed. I am happiest about the visibility. The upper wing is lower and the radiator is offset to the right so the pipe does not sit in my field of view. I am anxious to see what it can do with the new mount. After a brief familiarisation flight in the morning we take off close to one o’clock to meet with some of our observation machines for a trip to the front. It does my head good to leap into the summer air and climb away to the south-east. The boss has stationed me on his left wingtip, a position of trust. After more than a month of being useless I feel I have regained a place in the world. And then water begins to speckle my windscreen. Something has let go and the cooling system is shutting down. With a great sigh I leave the formation, turned back to Iseghem, and switch off.
"It is a gloriously bright morning. For the first time I roll out my new Albatros."
29 June 1917
A light drizzle rustles the outside of our tent and the occasional smack of a large drop falling from the trees outside stirs me awake. I fear we will not get to fly today. Yet I shave and dress and make my way to the hangers. To my delight the boss is already there with Leutnants Auer, Blume, Loertzer the Preacher, and two new additions, Leutnants Holzinger and Dannhuber. The clouds have lifted slightly. We will fly to Coutrai and rendezvous with our observation machines over the city and then head for the British lines south of Ypres.
How Leutnant Loertzer does it I do not know. Despite the darkness and haze he spots the pair of Rumpler two-seaters more than a kilometre away and heads for them. I realise that I have lost some of my ability to spot things in the air. That discovery is brought home more sharply ten minutes later as we approach the lines. Suddenly a large formation of English machines is amongst us. I bring my Albatros around to the left. It groans in protest and I remember the warning about our wing problems. I close on one of the chocolate -coloured enemy aircraft but it snaps around to the right with impossible quickness. These are not the Sopwiths that I knew two months ago. These are the new type with two machine guns that I have heard about. For the next few minutes – an eternity it seems – I am a novice again. I turn with the Sopwith but it turns a tighter circle. I climb and it climbs with me. But then I roll and dive and pull up, catching the Englishman in a turn. It is a difficult shot as the enemy machine flashes past, left to right. I aim ahead and keep my thumb on the trigger lever. I see my rounds hitting the target. He is in trouble. In a flash, I am behind him and firing again and again. We are low over the town of Menen when the Sopwith rolls to the right and begins to spin. At the last second, the Englishman attempts to pull out of the spin but his right wings clip the walls of a ruined house and the machine cartwheels through the rubble-strewn street.
"In a flash, I am behind him and firing again and again."
To the east, our Flak bursts tell me where the fight is and I head back to help my comrades. A lone Sopwith approaches off to my left and lower down. I turn on to its tail and begin to fire. It is too far away but I hope to damage it so that I may catch it more quickly. The Englishman approaches his own lines and I am taking ground fire. It is time to leave and go home.
Back at Iseghem there is excitement. Leutnant Auer has claimed a “Camel”, as the new Sopwith are termed. I am slapped on the back when I announce that I have one too. It remains to be confirmed but at least my comrades do not question it. We walked to the Kasino, where the kitchen has finally learned to make a proper omelette.
Shortly before one o’clock the phone rings and we are roused from our newspapers and coffee and chess boards. English aircraft have been seen heading in our direction. A lorry races us to the field where our machines have already been run up by the ground crew. Only five machines are ready. The boss orders streamers to be placed on my Albatros. This is the first time I will command a patrol! We take off – me, Holzinger, Fritz Loertzer, Auer, and Dannhuber. It is grey and damp and we climb through mist and low cloud. Auer signals “enemy in view.” I see them a few seconds later – four two-seaters heading west. For several minutes we climb after them and I decide to pursue them at least as far as Armentières. But then Loerzer fires a flare. Nieuports! I turn to meet the enemy and the formation scatters. For several minutes there is chaos. I have my hands full with two silver-white English scouts, and then they are gone. I see Dannhuber a short distance away with two Nieuports turning behind him. I dash to help and my opening burst scatters the enemy machines. I choose one of the Englishman and get on his tail, firing again and again. The Nieuport rolls on its back and disappears beneath me. Do I have him? I do not see him again. For a minute I find myself alone. I can hear my heart beating louder than the Mercedes engine in front of me. I remember to check the sky methodically. Nothing behind and above. Nothing behind and right. Nothing behind and left. Nothing above and ahead. Nothing below and left. No, wait a minute. A Nieuport is heading in my direction off to the left and about a thousand metres below. I throttle back and turn. He has not seen me. I watch my lower wings carefully as I open the throttle and dive as quickly as I dare. The distance closes quickly and I am soon within twenty metres of the Englishman. My lessons are coming back to me. I hold fire another few seconds until I practically touch the Nieuport. When my twin Spandaus finally speak the entire enemy machine staggers under the rain of bullets. It tumbles earthward and slams into the mud near the English trenches. Once again I begin to take accurate ground fire and turn away quickly for home.
At dinner I learn that neither of the day’s claims has been confirmed. An infantry unit claims to have fired two machine guns at my camel as it skimmed over the rooftops of Menen. As for the Nieuport, I had no great hope of gaining that one anyway. We were too low and over a low ridge from our own lines. Still, my comrades stood me several glasses of champagne in consolation.
30 June 1917
We are the second flight of the day this morning, and once again I permitted to wear the leader’s streamers. I have with me Blume, Fritz Loertzer, Auer, and Dannhuber – four Leutnants led by a Feldwebel! Our job is to patrol north of Ypres where a new balloon has appeared across from Langemark. It is wet and cloudy so we fly south for a bit after takeoff to find some clear sky for the climb. We spiral up to 2500 metres and set course north-west, flying obliquely over the lines. I turned my head like an owl. The grey walls of cloud surround us and the English gentleman can appear suddenly like thieves from an alleyway. Off to our left are several aircraft. They shine pale in colour in the occasional wash of pale sunlight – probably yellow Spads or silver-white Nieuports. They are with two larger machines. I suspect they are escorting a reconnaissance flight. That is good news. They will not interfere with us if that is the case.
They do not need to. Directly ahead are several shimmering white specks that quickly take form as Newport scouts. There are seven of them to our five. We have a fight on our hands! In the first minute, aeroplanes are everywhere. I nearly collide with an Englishman. Two seconds later I come within a metre of another black and white Albatros. And then the swirling melee spreads across the sky. One of the Nieuports is staying high above the others. There is no one behind me so I begin to climb. He gets closer and closer but then he sees me and snaps into a half roll. I follow. The Englishman is capable but not talented. Even with the bus I am driving I can get behind him. Three short bursts and he spins away downwards. I follow in as steep a spiral as I dare, slipping with full rudder when I can. The Nieuport is gone for several seconds and then I see him. He has levelled out at around 1500 metres. I search the sky behind me and above and begin a long shallow dive at half throttle. The enemy machine is over the lines north of Ypres when I pull up behind and beneath him. Again I close the distance until our two machines are nearly touching one another. I fire a long burst. He pulls up and falls away. I have him for sure! But no, for he recovers above the forest of Houthulst and turns west again. I see Dannhuber diving on him. Where has he come from? But this Englishman is mine. I dive at him with the throttle open, closing too quickly and firing all the way. The Nieuport manages a quick burst at me as I overshoot but he misses. I come about one more time and fire yet another burst. The white machine rolls on its side and dips beneath the treetops. A column of smoke rises from the woods.
"Again I close the distance until our two machines are nearly touching one another."
Dannhuber has found our balloon, which is not far away from where the Nieuport fell. I see him pressing home his attack through clouds of shrapnel bursts. Now that the Flak gunners are entertaining themselves with my comrade I turn toward the balloon and dive. I begin firing at 400 metres and continue until a trickle of flame emerges and quickly erupts in a fireball. In delight I roll my machine across the sky above the enemy gunners.
"I begin firing at 400 metres..."
I return with Dannhuber to find that the other three are all safe and that Blume has bagged a Nieuport. I claim my Nieuport and the balloon, both of which were witnessed by Dannhuber, who is good enough to tell the Staffelfuehrer that the balloon did not begin to catch fire until my attack. The report goes to 6th Army and is quickly approved. I now have my fifth and sixth victories.
In the afternoon I join the boss, Auer, and Blume. We are to escort two observation machines to photograph the British lines north of Ypres. The weather is still damp and cloudy and it takes us nearly thirty minutes to find the pair of Rumplers and shepherd them across to their assigned area. Before we get there, however, a number of Sopwiths appear and a roaring fight is underway. One of the Englishman is on Auer’s tail and I get a good burst at him. Then another Sopwith and a third appear. I manoeuvre to shoot at the nearest, but his partner puts a few rounds into my machine. I get away in a climbing turn and look for the Sopwith. These are the older type, not the Camels. One enemy machine dives past me as I turn in a vertical bank. I see grey vapour in a stream behind it. Aha, I think, I have hit the Englishman’s fuel tank. But alas, I quickly discover that I chasing my own tail like a village mongrel and that the petrol vapour is coming from my own machine! There is nothing to be done but get out of there quickly. I switch off and dive through the cloud, praying that none of the Sopwiths follows me. When I emerge, I can see the aerodrome at Menen and, in the distance, the town and field at Iseghem. And so my day of combat comes to an end.
I want to explore the town with Steinmesser after dinner but his crew of mechanics are working late to repair my Albatros. So once again I wander the streets by myself. I pause at the market square near the canal. The Café Belge is open and I look inside. I will not be the only NCO so I find the table and order coffee and a tart. I have never taken much to smoking, but this seems like the right time and place for a small cigar.
#4528138 - 07/01/2002:29 AMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Carrick - When Fido has his head in the slipstream does he stick his tongue out as well? From your last screenshots it appears your man went to see the Circus.
Raine - Vogel is back in style, that new mount of his is a beauty. A fine catch-up too. But shooting down the new Camels? Gasp! Love that shot looking forward from just behind your pilot – outstanding.
Fullofit - Four more confirmed victories for Ziggy, most impressive! And aren’t those long dead-stick glides to camp quiet, really gives a fellow time to think.
AceMedic88 - The Pup is most certainly showing its age at this point, for Capell’s sake I hope a better mount Is in his very near future. As to the Bristol, it is a joy to fly and fight in. Despite it’s fairly large turning radius it is more than a match for the V-strutters when flown properly.
#4528212 - 07/01/2001:43 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Joined: May 2012 Posts: 4,040RAF_Louvert
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
Major Wilkinson had surprised everyone during the dinner before 23 squadron’s binge. The squadron were moving north to La Lovie near Poperinghe. Lindley didn’t know where this was but he was sad to be leaving Bruay and his new friend, 2nd Lt Harris behind.
The next day saw a buzz of activity as equipment was packed up into trucks and everything tidied away. Goodbyes were said and the Spads were rolled out to take off from Bruay one last time. “Take care of yourself, Badger,” Lindley told Harris as the American pilot came to see him off. “That Nieuport might be nimble, but she’s too delicate. Watch your wings.” “She’s a spirited bird, sure,” Ainslie replied. “But I’ll not be trading her in for a heavy Spad, that’s for sure. You take care too, Hoss. Be sure to invite me along next time you’re having a party.”
La Lovie was a small square field with a hop field on one side and a wooded area across the road. The woods drew the eye from the air as they contained a large pond and a sizeable château. It was clearly in army use as Lindley could see Armstrong huts in the grounds. As he circled down to land, Lindley noticed that the green hop bines hung from wires that were stretched out from tall wooden stakes. He hoped that he never overshot the field. That would be unpleasant.
After landing, Lindley walked across to where Patrick, McGregor and Cole were talking to pilots from the RE8 squadron who shared the field. “Ah, Lindley,” Patrick called. “These gentlemen are from twenty-one squadron. Crowley, Burgess and deVere.” Lindley nodded and shook hands with the assembled officers. “Hallo, hallo. A pleasure to meet you all. Are we staying at the château? “That would be nice, wouldn't it?” Crowley of 21 squadron replied. “The château is the headquarters of the 5th Army. General Gough might have something to say if you strolled in with your valise and asked for a room.”
There has been quite a bit of flying in June, but sadly I haven't had the time to write a story around them. This story takes place on the day after my previous one but is important to set the scene prior to the opening of the 3rd Ypres. The quality of everyone else's writing here is astounding. I do enjoy reading them.
End of June figures: 2nd Lieutenant Robert B Lindley 23 squadron RFC, La Lovie aerodrome Spad VII 32 missions, 28.33 hours 2 confirmed victories from 10 claims.
#4528262 - 07/01/2004:32 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Raine, you’ve picked up on that certain “F” on the fuselage! Lou’s eagle-eyed pilot had missed it. What rotten luck. All this effort to set up the infrastructure for an improved mess and all for nothing. What a letdown. Congrats on being awarded the new Albatros model. Despite what other pilots might say about it not being an improvement over the D.III, at least you will not be left behind the rest of the Schwarm, struggling to catch up and no kill-stealing Schwein will creep up from behind, overtake you and steal your certain victory. That reminds me, congrats on taking down that Camel and then that Nieuport. Hopefully one of many. It’s too bad that the word of any ground gunner weighs more than that of a pilot. But with persistence comes success. 5 kills for Vogel! Hurray!
Lou, long glides over NML are anything but quiet. The wind, the explosions, the sound of your ears straining to pick up any signs of enemy engines. And it should have been five kills, not four, were it not for that certain pilot with an umlaut accent over the “a”, that swine! Great kill to claim ratio for young Abbott so far!
Maeran, looks like there is a lot of transfers going around. Hope your pilot finds comfortable quarters.
It was rather cloudy and wet, so it was no surprise that none of the higher ranked pilots were keen on going up. The task was bestowed on Ziggy, who would lead a Schwarm for the firs time. He became very nervous when he learned he would be the Schwarmfürher, but Wolff reassured him that patrolling above friendly airfield of Heule would be a walk in the park, otherwise the C.O. wouldn’t allow it. That somehow settled Zygmunt’s nerves. Wolff was right, the patrol was uneventful with Tommies probably sitting by a warm fire, forsaking air operations for the day. The flight was nearing their home after a dismally glum and wet mission. Ziggy was holding last position in the landing pattern and lined up his Albatros with the airfield. Suddenly the whole engine compartment erupted on fire. There was no warning. Ziggy let go of the column and pulled his feet away from the firewall. The plane veered off course. The panicking pilot grabbed the steering column again and straighten his flying torch. He looked overboard and considered jumping but decided against it. He preferred burns to a broken neck. He was so close! He could smell burned hair and ... bacon? He swatted the flames with one hand while still holding on to the control column with the other. He felt a thump. He knew he was on the ground and the plane was rolling to a stop at the edge of the airfield. He unfastened the harness and jumped out of the plane. Men were running with buckets of water. He started to roll on the ground to smother any flames. Only now he noticed the pain. The ambulance was now on the scene. Other pilots were running over to help. Wolff was shouting, the medic was trying to take Zygmunt’s gloves off. The Albatros fire was put out. There was only smell of wet ground mixed with burnt oil, iron and varnish. Ziggy was transported to the nearby Lazarett and would be down for four days. What a way to finish his first mission as a leader.