Lou, glad to see Freddy back at it. Bribing the claims board. What an unsportsmanlike behaviour! Now, why would he also need to bribe nurse Ellison? I’ll never understand.
12 February, 1918 09:45 Cuirieux, Marne Sector Jasta 19, JG II Offizzierstellvertreter Rudolf Emil Fuchs EK1, HHO 29 confirmed kills
Today was a balloon busting affair NW of Rosnay. They were in and out without any interruptions from the enemy scouts. Ltn Jumpelt took out the gasbag and they all retuned safely back to base without any further drama.
"Take the cylinder out of my kidneys, The connecting rod out of my brain, my brain, From out of my arse take the camshaft, And assemble the engine again."
#4555942 - 02/13/2101:42 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Joined: May 2012 Posts: 4,624RAF_Louvert
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
Fullofit - Not bribes, tokens of appreciation. Yeah, that's it, that's the ticket. And no drama during an outing is a nice change of pace for Rudy I would imagine.
Carrick - A fantastic shot of 41's armada, that's a whole lot of planes in that little piece of sky. Also, if the Gong Fairy is our only hope we're all doomed.
12 February 1918 65 Squadron R.F.C. Bailleul, France
Samuel, oh Samuel, beware the dreaded Cam-u-el!
An apropos warning to friend and foe alike on this particular morning as it started with Captain Frederick Abbott having to take the squadron's spare to lead the first sortie when his mount came up dud, the Clerget breaking a connecting rod during warm-up. The warning persisted unheeded when the new man, 2nd Lt. James Billingham, suffering his own engine trouble during take-off, then made the fatal mistake of attempting to turn back, and worst of all went to port trying to do it. His kite immediately stalled out and buried itself at the end of the runway, killing the young fool instantly. Such a waste. And finally, during the patrol of the lines near Ypres, the warning was ignored again when a lone V-strutter sporting a blue nose dove on the four remaining members of 'B' Flight. It was over in short order when Freddy parked himself on the Alb's six and sent it down OOC to crash into the mud below. The temperamental Camel was most assuredly not a plane to be taken lightly.
A fatal mistake.
And yet another fatal mistake.
#4555992 - 02/13/2108:05 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Posted to B flight's morning attack on a Rail Junction Used up 3 Drums + about 200 Vickers One a/c was forced down Pilot POW ?. The Sqn went up again ,but I Spent the afternoon Painting Rocks White and had a detail of 3 Errk's arrange them to read 41 Sgn in front of the Mess.
Last edited by carrick58; 02/13/2108:08 PM.
#4555996 - 02/13/2108:48 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Joined: Nov 2014 Posts: 3,369Fullofit
Lou, unfortunately drama is what Rudi does best as you can deduce from today’s video. Don’t you wish the Devs would program pilots with an engine problem to be able to skip the upwind-downwind leg of landing approach with no hope of actually making it? They should attempt a direct (emergency) landing - we wouldn’t lose that many pilots then. It probably wouldn’t help poor 2nd Lt. James Billingham, RIP. Good thing Freddy evened out the score with that Alb.
13 February, 1918 09:45 Cuirieux, Marne Sector Jasta 19, JG II Offizzierstellvertreter Rudolf Emil Fuchs EK1, HHO 29 confirmed kills
The plan was to patrol friendly front lines north of Fismes, but with all best laid plans something had to go wrong. It wasn’t enough that they had to begin their mission with snow squalls in full swing. Oh no, that would be too easy. They had to put up with a SPAD raid right at take off. Rudi was first off the line without realizing the enemy was approaching. He looked over his right shoulder to watch the rest of the Schwarm take off. He then did the same over his left shoulder and that’s when he realized they were under attack. He broke instantly and watched as one of the tan SPADs zoomed by aiming at the exact spot in the air Fuchs would have been occupying had he not turned to face the invaders. The tan SPAD was reversing and coming at Rudi for another pass, but this time the German pilot was facing him and was certain he hit the French machine when he fired. They circled around again and this time Rudi was behind the SPAD. He let off another volley then a second and a third, but it looked like the first burst was enough. The tan SPAD went into a spin and crashed on the outskirts of the aerodrome. Bombs began to whistle through the air and exploded among the hangars. There was one on fire. Everything was happening at the same time. After the first SPAD had crashed Rudi was faced with another Franzose chasing one of the Albatrosen. Fuchs fired blindly to distract the SPAD pilot from chasing his wingmate. It didn’t work, he could hear the Vickers firing in front. Rudi caught up to the enemy and began firing. This time the message had gotten through and the French pilot disengaged. It was too little, too late. Fuchs wouldn’t let him get away. The entire starboard top wingtip was blown off and the second SPAD was plummeting to the ground. Rudi didn’t waste time. He saw more planes fighting in the distance. He adjusted his course to intercept and was surprised to see another SPAD flying alongside his machine. The Frenchman was too preoccupied with chasing another Albatros to notice him. Fuchs took advantage of the situation and got behind the French plane and fired. It didn’t take long for this intruder to be falling to his death while Rudi continued to fire his guns all the way to the impact point. That was the last one of them. The escorts were now in retreat after the bombers have completed their raid. Hopefully the damage to the aerodrome wasn’t as bad as it looked.
Fullofit - A hat trick for Rudi? Well done! But that Spad nearly took your man out in that head-on merge, talk about shaving it close. And yes to having the whole WWII-style landing approach pattern changed in future editions of WOFF, in particular when the AI has a dud engine. Another one for the wish list.
14 February 1918 65 Squadron R.F.C. Bailleul, France
Captain Frederick Abbott's claim for the blue-nosed Albatrtos from two days earlier had been approved. "Spiffing!" he remarked at the news. Too early to be sure with just the one, but he was hopeful that the gifted scotch was turning the tide for him. Yesterday's outings had proven fruitless in terms of Huns bagged, but that would change with this morning's flip across the lines. 2nd Lt. Richard 'Ricky' Lee, (yet another green lad), had arrived last night to replace Billingham, bringing the pilot pool back up to full strength. However the squadron was still short on serviceable planes, due not only to the crash of the 12th but more so because of a plague of engine trouble. The Clergets did not seem to care for the winter weather any more than the pilots did. None-the-less, enough mounts were coaxed to life shortly past ten to send a combined 'A' and 'B' group out on patrol, led by Abbott.
The seven Camels left the frozen field and climbed up through a gray February sky, breaking out into sunlit cloud canyons at 11,000'. As they were passing over Armentières Freddy caught sight of a lone dark speck far ahead, moving slowly against the background of white, and as he drew nearer recognized it as one of the twin-tailed Hannovers. He knew these Hun two-seaters were not afraid to put up a fight and approached cautiously while the rest of his flight kept watch for any other hostile interlopers. He was hoping to surprise the Boche but the enemy G/O was sharp and signaled his pilot who immediately took evasive maneuvers. The Kaiser's pair worked well together and the King's ace had his hands full trying to send shots into the Hun bus without taking any himself. Things had been going fairly well in that regard until, as Freddy was swooping up under the six of his prey for the third time, the Hun pilot suddenly throttled back and lifted the nose of the Hannover while banking starboard, giving his gunner a clear line of fire for a split second and nearly causing a collision in the process. Abbott rolled hard to port and streaked underneath, stitching the belly of the beast in front of him from end to end, while at the same instant a Boche bullet tore through his petrol tank which began spewing raw fuel everywhere. Freddy immediately broke off and pointed his kite west. When he looked back over his shoulder he was much relieved and satisfied to see the Hannover tumbling out of control, and watched as it fell into No Man's Land while his own mount ran out of fuel and the prop windmilled to a halt. He glided along over the shattered remains of Armentières and picked out a clear spot on the far western edge of the city that looked a likely place to set down. Over the rush of the wind and the 'woomp woomp' of the odd shells falling in the mud below he suddenly heard the familiar chatter of an approaching Clerget and looked to starboard to find that Lt. Ben Astley had joined him and was keeping watch as he drifted down to land. Once he'd settled safely back onto the frosty ground, Abbott gave his escort a wave and climbed out of the disabled Camel, removing the all-important dash watch as he did so. A motorcycle courier was approaching, having just delivered information to the rear trenches, and offered him a ride in the sidecar the three miles or so back to Bailleul, which the young pilot gladly accepted. "That would be toppers, old sport, simply toppers!" Freddy replied with his signature toothy grin. "And if you've time when we get there I'll stand you to a drink or two for your trouble. I've some fairly likable 8-year-old scotch back at my hut."
The Camels of 'A' and 'B' Flights heading eastward.
A lone Hannover working its way along the front lines.
Abbott rolled hard to port and streaked underneath, stitching the belly of the beast in front of him from end to end.
The Captain watched as the Hannover fell into No Man's Land, while his own mount ran out of fuel and the prop windmilled to a halt.
Gliding along over the shattered remains of Armentières.
#4556071 - 02/14/2104:00 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Joined: Nov 2014 Posts: 3,369Fullofit
Lou, talking about close shaves, your man had a near collision experience of his own. Freddy is becoming reckless. Better keep your toothy-grinned pilot safe. Lovely shot with the entire flight behind Abbott
14 February, 1918 08:45 Cuirieux, Marne Sector Jasta 19, JG II Offizzierstellvertreter Rudolf Emil Fuchs EK1, HHO 31 confirmed kills
Two SPADs have been confirmed. This was good news, considering all the Flak batteries around the aerodrome were just waiting to appropriate Rudi’s claims. Even better news was that Konrad von Bülow-Bothkamp, the hated Staffelführer has transferred out of Jasta after supposedly someone replaced his hair pomade with Hundescheiße. He said it was the last straw and called the HQ. He had been quickly replaced by Ltn Walter Göttsch. It was a welcome change. Finally they had a leader who fought, ate and drunk with his men. There was another change this morning. Rudi was given the new Fokker machine to pilot today! Jasta was ordered to patrol enemy front lines between Rosnay and Reims. The flight was uneventful but Rudi used this time wisely to get used to his new kite. It was much more maneuverable than an Albatros and it could really climb, but it was slower and difficult to keep in a straight line. Fuchs will somehow have to deal with these vices and enjoy its strengths.
"Take the cylinder out of my kidneys, The connecting rod out of my brain, my brain, From out of my arse take the camshaft, And assemble the engine again."
#4556072 - 02/14/2104:14 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Great stories, screen shots and videos gents. It’s nice to see you back in action Lou. Thanks again for your gong contributions. One of the after effects of taking 3 months off to run around in the woods is a lot of things got neglected. I’m now playing catch-up! My stories will be a bit abbreviated until I get back on a level playing field.
Sgt. Jeremiah Johnson 41 RFC
Feb. 14, 1918 Johnson had his first scare a few days ago. Patrolling near St. Vaast, Capt. Hemming dove on 2 Rumplers and Johnson followed. The gunners were not only good but relentless! Johnson saw Hemming disengage and he fired his guns his SE was hit with a withering fire from both Hun machines. He dove away trailing a mist of petrol and immediately shut down his engine. St. Martin was a good bet and he headed towards it. Gliding toward the aerodrome he headlined he would not make the field and set his machine down in a fielded short of the landing area. He was shaken a bit as this was the first time he had been hit by an enemy machine.
The next day he had sent a Hannover down and observed it crash. He was elated at his achievement but it was short lived as his claim was rejected. The squadrons last missions had been Railyard strikes and they had performed admirably.
Sgt. Thorpe, a rising star in 41 had received a medal. He was a bit pleased with himself as he is the only Sgt. In the squadron with such a distinction!
Never approach a bull from the front, a horse from the rear or a fool from either end. BOC Member since....I can't remember!
#4556074 - 02/14/2104:16 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Thanks MFair, it didn’t take long for Rudi to come up with an idea how to decorate his mount. Now as to Jeremiah, that’s one way to get his baptism by fire out of the way. Hopefully he’ll be more careful when attacking the two-seaters. Better yet, avoid them altogether. Stick to the machines that don’t shoot back when you’re behind them.
15 February, 1918 08:45 Cuirieux, Marne Sector Jasta 19, JG II Offizzierstellvertreter Rudolf Emil Fuchs EK1, HHO 31 confirmed kills
Fuchs finished his drink and let out a guttural belch. Tybelsky winced and forced himself to finish his own drink. He was sure he’d had enough. The burp that accompanied it was nothing compared to Rudi’s. Albert thought to himself that the little skunk could even gurk better than him, let alone shoot the enemy planes down. “- So, I’ve heard you got some Franzosen in your new Dreidecker. Do tell!” Albert needed a break from the binge and an opportunity to catch a second wind. He was getting old. Rudi smiled: “- Nothing to tell, really. The new Fokker makes it too easy to bring down those SPADs. We were sent to support ground troops in the front sector north of Reims. They like it when we sweep the enemy planes out of the skies above their heads. It makes them feel safe. As if these planes were the biggest danger to them. It was very cloudy so we found no enemy activity in that muck.” Fuchs looked at his empty glass and considered licking out the last of the drops gathered at the bottom. “- The snail-eaters had no such troubles and were easily able to locate our Schwarm as it was preparing to land. We spotted them late and they were all over us, but I was able to wiggle out of this tight spot and get on the rear of one of the intruders. I quickly eliminated that one and then I found another one. I had him go down close to his friend below.” Rudi dusted his hands off. Tybelsky knew that meant the end of the story. He raised the glass to toast his friend’s victories, but realized it was empty. It was bad luck to toast with empty glass. He put it quickly back down. “- Well done!” Rudi made a sour face: “- Bah! They were both denied. Those Flugabwerkanone Hurensöhne claimed both as their own.” “- Ready for another round?” Fuchs asked Tybelsky expectantly. “- You’re buying.”
Jerbear - Good to see you stopping by. Stay a while, have a drink, Fullofit's buying.
Fullofit - A brand new killing machine for Rudi, and sporting a sharp new livery on top of it! The Entente pilots should be afraid, very afraid. From the looks of your most recent video the knife fighter aspect of the DR1 seems to suit Rudi's style nicely.
MFair - Sgt. Johnson has been vetted I see, and any landing you can walk away from eh what? As for the rejected claim, he's now a real King's airman. And to that MM for Sgt. Thorpe, I wouldn't be a bit surprised if Jeremiah earns one of his own soon enough.
Carrick - 41 Squadron has a cricket team? Methinks a match between your man and his mates and Freddy and his at 65 Squadron should be worked out.
And to Freddy, his claim for the Hannover on the 14th was awarded, which makes two in a row for him since his visit to Wing HQ. Perhaps the scotch has done the trick. The bracelet he presented to Lizzie on St. Valentine's Day certainly did, the young woman was most appreciative and showed it later on that evening after dinner, twice. Ah, but she and her toothy beau will now no longer have the convenience of being literally next door to each other as 65 Squadron has been ordered away from the Asylum and north into Belgium to the aerodrome at Poperinge. Seven odd miles will now separate the two young lovers and in a war zone those seven miles could just as well be a hundred. But the pair have accepted the new situation and vowed to keep in touch and see each other when hostilities allow. Both Captain Abbott and Nurse Ellison are fairly practical sorts when it comes to affairs of the heart, (and their current situation), so neither are making any long-term plans. They simply enjoy each other's company when the fates provide them an opportunity to share in it - probably a very wise approach in such tenuous times.
#4556407 - 02/16/2110:49 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Fullofit, that is an ominous looking triplane! Good luck with it.
Carrick, congratulations on the new gong.
Lou, great to see you back in circulation! Freddie hasn't lost his touch, I see.
MFair, congratulations to Jeremiah on bagging a Hannover. They are not the easiest birds to take down.
War Journal of Flight Commander George Ewan MacAlister, DSC
8 Squadron, RNAS Mont-St-Eloi, France
"…my first burst shattered its wings and it dropped like a rock."
When I was young I had a nanny who was Russian. She would tell me stories about growing up on the steppe and about the winters there. I always imagine the Russian winter is a beast, a wild wolf clawing at the windowpane. And here in France we had several days of Russian winter. We huddled in our Nissen hut and dribbled our dwindling supply of coal into the Canadian stove, clad in greatcoats and blankets and watching our breath as we read books we had already read twice. Lunch came and we preferred to make soup in our heart to braving the fifty-yard walk to the mess. Finally, Draper sent out a work party with a tender to collect firewood and we stoked the fireplace in the anteroom until we all burned on one side and froze on the other.
Finally, on 10 February, the weather broke and we were ordered to attack a Hun aerodrome well to the south near Cambrai. We never made it because a large group of Albatri dived on us and we had to let our bombs go. It was quite a dogfight and I had a few cracks at the EA but nothing decisive. Bowne bagged his first Hun. The following day we were ordered back to complete the mission. This time I led the group and we saw no other machines in the air except for a pair of DH4s over the lines. I was determined to make a good showing and dive down to a few hundred feet above the railyard before letting the bombs go.
The noise surprised me and the blast nearly turned my machine upside down. I soon realised that it had done damage. The Clerget was missing on one cylinder and a faint white plume of petrol wound out behind my machine. I immediately signalled for Compston to take over and climbed to the westa. I was ten miles deep into Hunland and did not fancy ending the war settled down in a field behind German lines. Plus, I had no shoes except for my sheepskin lined flying boots. It would be a terrible thing to have nothing else to wear for another year or two.
The engine threw out more oil than normal and sounded terrible, but it kept running. Far ahead, the lines showed up as a brown smear on the landscape. The fields passed beneath painfully slow, yet the trusty Clerget continued to grind away. The lines grew closer and more distinct. I passed over an enemy aerodrome and the Hun Archie soon bracketed my machine. There was no way I could weave and evade. The engine was beginning to cough and within seconds the last of the fuel was gone. Now it was a matter of saving every possible inch.
The German lines slipped past, less than a thousand feet beneath, and every machine gun in Christendom opened fire. Now finally I saw upturned faces and khaki uniforms. Barbed wire passed beneath. A rough field showed up ahead into my right. I held the Camel off the ground as long as possible and pancaked into the space between shell holes. The machine bounced once and came to a stop just over a shallow rise and out of sight of the enemy. I am fashion the watch and gathered my maps and a few personal items. Voices shouted to me from a nearby trench and I made my way there just as the first shells began to seek out my machine.
I considered the Camel well guarded and followed a ration party to the rear, emerging near a shattered village where I got a ride in an ambulance for several miles. In the next town stood a large schoolhouse. My driver said it was full of officers and we sure do have a telephone. The sentry at the door snapped off a smart rifle salute. The hallway inside the front door smelled of tobacco. Typewriters clacked away noisily in other rooms. A youngish lieutenant colonel approached with the bundle of papers. “Who the hell are you?” he demanded. Hatless, I stood to attention. I explained my situation briefly and he invited me inside and sent a corporal for a cup of tea. His name was Faulkner.
He welcomed me to what he described as the school of intelligence. They were engaged in teaching officers how to question and process German prisoners. From time to time the front door would open and two or three unfortunate-looking Huns would slouch in under guard. “Last class of the day,” remarked Faulkner. “Do you want to watch?”
What I saw shocked me. The first Hun prisoner was led into a room where a nasty-looking major began his interrogation by giving him an openhanded slap across the face. The major shouted at him to tell him his unit. The German sat sullenly and stared at the floor. “Look at me, you piece of filth,” screamed the major. “We know you understand English. Start talking or your life will be pretty bloody ugly.” It continued in this vein for at least a quarter hour. The German never opened his mouth and frankly, I was on the German’s side. Faulkner took me by the arm and led me out of the room. “Now come see this,” he said. He led me to a kitchen with a window overlooking the back garden. There was a small barbed wire pen under a chestnut tree guarded by a slovenly looking lance corporal. After several minutes, the German prisoner from upstairs was led outside into the pen. Faulkner got us another cup of tea and we chatted for a few minutes. I let them have a piece of my mind about the ineffective questioning of the major. He listened patiently and then pointed at the window. The lance corporal had given the German prisoners cigarette and the two of them were chatting.
“We have a class upstairs watching this,” said Faulkner. “That lance corporal is actually a major in the Royal Engineers and one of our best interrogators. The poor Hun thinks his questioning is over and his guard is complaining about the officers here. In ten minutes, we will have enough information to open a bank account in that poor German’s name. That’s our biggest lesson here. You need to make it safe for people to open up to you if you want to learn anything.”
It took two days for a vehicle to get to me. My Camel was destroyed by an artillery concentration and I enjoyed the hospitality of the school of military intelligence. They had me speak to a class about the flying services and the sort of information one could obtain from a downed pilot. It was the night of 13 February 1918 before I got back to Mont-St-Eloi.
14 and 15 February brought bad weather but we were up again on both days. On 15 February, I led a strong patrol along the lines near Ypres. We had snow and rain up to 9000 feet. North-east of Armentieres we spotted two DFW observation machines at 7000 feet and dived on them. I took some hits from the observer of the left-hand machine during my first attempt. Draper then slipped in and set the Hun alight. I spotted the second turning for home and moved to head it off while Draper got on its tail. Draper caused damage but when I closed on the EA, my first burst shattered its wings and it dropped like a rock. We were each credited with one of the two-seaters, bringing my score to thirty-three.
#4556415 - 02/17/2112:52 AMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Joined: Nov 2014 Posts: 3,369Fullofit
Jerbear, thanks! The truth is, Rudi used his cousin Otto’s idea instead (minus the chicken).
Lou, Dreidecker might agree with Rudi, but I have a feeling one of those days this machine is going to kill him with one of its idiosyncrasies. Just watch the latest video. Those spins are a murder. Ah, another transfer for the King’s finest. Good thing the amorous pair is so pragmatic about their predicament. Hopefully Freddy will find a way to get to nurse Ellison from time to time to satisfy their urges.
Raine, that is an interesting place George had found himself in. A school of interrogation. What will they think of next? It reminds me of the signal issued to the American pilots. Probably to all Entente pilots:
Stencil #694 December 3, 1917 WAR DEPARTMENT Office of the Chief Signal Officer Washington INFORMATION SECTION – AIR DIVISION
The following confidential information is furnished for the use of the Army and Navy and authorized civilians in the service of the Government. T.H.BANE Lt. Col., Signal Corps
WARNING TO AMERICAN AVIATORS Things to avoid if Forced to Land behind German Lines
The following instructions in the form of a warning have been given to British Aviators. American Officers and Aviators should note them and appreciate their importance. If you are unfortunate to be compelled to land behind the German lines, you may be agreeably surprised by the apparent hospitality and generosity of your welcome there. The German Officers will probably have you stay with them as their guest for a few days at one of their squadrons and will make you most comfortable. You will probably be extremely well entertained with the very best of everything they can offer. An abundance of good champagne from France will oil the wheels of conversation between the officers of the German Flying Corps, and one whom they will probably term a brother officer of the English Flying Corps. They will appear to be very good fellows, straightforward, cheerful and keen on the scientific side of flying, apart from their ordinary work with which they may say they are quite fed up. They will probably lead you to talk about the possibilities of aviation after the war, and profess little interest in aviation as actually applied to war. It may not take much wine to gladden your heart, and to induce you to lay aside your suspicions and reserve, and forget the guile, which lies behind their artless questions. And so unaccustomed as you are to this form of deceit, you may fall another victim to this clever combination of cunning and hospitality. But though they may succeed for the moment in making a favorable impression, you will afterwards have every reason to remember during this war the Germans have proved themselves to be a cruel and unscrupulous enemy, but they are sound financiers and have an eye to good investment. It does not cost them much to entertain you well, and even if they did expect to get an adequate return for their money in the form of information unwittingly imparted by you. That’s why they will give you all the delights of the ‘Carlton’ and ‘Savoy’ with none of the regrets of an overdraft at Cox’s and that is why you will be treated as a highly honored guest, instead of being half starved in one of their now notorious prison camps, a treatment which is in fact only postponed until they have squeezed every ounce of useful information out of you. The work is done by experienced men. Quite unknown to yourself one or more of the seemingly irresponsible flying men are highly trained intelligence officers who will sift bits of useful information from your most brilliant ‘bon mot’ received with the keenest amusement and gratification. On the other hand, different methods may be employed, though these are not so common with prisoners of the Flying Corps, as with others. You may be browbeaten and ordered to disclose information under pain of suffering penalties, if you refuse. Remember this is only a ruse and they will not carry out their threats. It is more possible that they will respect you for your patriotism and discretion. It is quite possible that you may be placed in a hut with an officer alleged to be an English prisoner, speaking English fluently and knowing many people in England well, and wishing to have news of everyone and everything, or perhaps he will ask no questions, relying only on your confidence. It will be difficult for you to believe that he is not a companion in misfortune, but this is a common trick of all intelligence services and a very profitable one. Therefore, be on your guard and remember that in a show like this, it is impossible for any individual not at the head of affairs to say what is of use to the enemy and what is not. Remember that any information you may inadvertently given may lengthen the war and keep you longer in Germany; may cost the lives of many Englishmen, may strain the country’s resources even more than they are being strained at present. Don’t think this is all imagination and needless caution. The need of it has been bought by experience. No careless or irresponsible feelings ought to weigh with us against anything we can do to hasten the conclusion of the war.
16 February, 1918 10:45 Cuirieux, Marne Sector Jasta 19, JG II Offizzierstellvertreter Rudolf Emil Fuchs EK1, HHO 31 confirmed kills
“- We found a flight of SPADs over Sissone Forest, near Marchais. That was on our way to the front lines north of Reims, where we were sent on a patrol. I was able to catch one of the Franzosen and I followed him in a steep climb. All of a sudden my Dreidecker stalled and went into a spin. It was a hairy experience. The bloody thing tumbled down in all directions with me inside being tossed along. Thankfully the other pilot overdid it as well and both of our kites were in a similar situation. We resumed our fight after sorting out those nasty stalls. It must have been a shock for the Frenchman to see the German machine easily keeping up with him and sticking to his tail. I kept firing at him from all kinds of angles and finally I was able to eliminate him when I shot one of his wings off. That kill was confirmed right away.” Tybelsky wasn’t listening. He was asleep right there at the table in the Kasino. He had to be tired. He didn’t drink that much.
Got shot up and shot down today. Posted to Line Patrol during heavy cloud cover over the lines. E/a maybe 2 flights just fell on us. They got the flight leader then as I was firing on a 3 winger Our top cover came diving thru nearly ramming my kite. The e/a,s just kept popping in and out spandua's blazing my Kite took hits then one was on my tail his Mg's blinking more hits and one bullet took off my little toe. Spinning I recovered at ground level and Plowed in skidding about 100 yards and breaking a finger protecting my head during the crash. As luck would have it, the Arty boys pulled me out and administered 1st Aid. Headed for a clearing station in a horse drawn wagon then a rear area Hospital.
#4556534 - 02/17/2111:25 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Fullofit, thanks for including those instructions to pilots. I had not seen that before. It's a fairly negative take on the whole brotherhood of pilots image, isn't it?
Carrick, time for another dip into the bottomless bucket of sexy nurse pictures!
McAlister has had a busy few days that included a brief dance with the Red Baron…
War Journal of Flight Commander George Ewan MacAlister, DSC
8 Squadron, RNAS Mont-St-Eloi, France
"... I came out of a tight turn over the Abbey and found a scarlet triplane directly in front..."
"...I slipped in front of him and set the Hun aflame."
It seems like such a short while since I was left on the doorstep of Naval Eight like an abandoned and ill born babe, listening with reverence while pilots with two or three weeks of experience spoke of their exploits. Tonight I sat in the anteroom for two hours with Squadron Commander Draper, sipping rum and discussing the best deployment of our resources, quite the trusted veteran. Things move quickly here. Certainly they have done so the past three days.
Until now I have scarcely made acquaintance of Herr Fokker’s new triplane. Now I have had enough to make me quite fed up. On the morning of 16 February I was looking forward to a simple defensive patrol and an afternoon of make and mend. Our Camels were rolled out and run up and I raised my hand to signal that I would lead the takeoff. Just then there was a roar of aero engines and a large formation of triplanes passed overhead, a mere 300 feet above the grass. I believe the Huns were unprepared for the sight of our aerodrome. I began rolling before the triplanes could turn back and was in the air in seconds and immediately embroiled in a frantic game of tag. I fired at three-winged wraiths as they flashed past and half rolled to escape a Hun on my tail. At one point I came out of a tight turn over the Abbey and found a scarlet triplane directly in front – in all likelihood it was the Baron himself. The red machine shot skyward before I could get a burst at it. The dance continued for several minutes and then, as so often happens, mysteriously broke up. I dived on a lone Fokker and killed its pilot with my first burst. Number thirty-four.
Two of our machines were forced down and written off. I claimed the Fokker and Sneath claimed one driven down. My first impressions of the new Hun scout are that it is wonderfully manoeuvrable but no quicker than a Camel. Also, its stubby fuselage leaves the pilot vulnerable to fire from the rear.
The next morning I led a patrol of seven machines along the lines to the south towards Cambrai. Again we ran into triplanes. These were mostly dull green or grey in colour. Our scrap began at 5000 feet and spiralled down to the mud above no man’s land. I caught one Hun from behind and killed its pilot. Several minutes later I saw Johnstone chasing another. His guns had clearly jammed so I slipped in front of him and set the Hun aflame. Johnstone was able to confirm both of my victories bringing the score to thirty-six.
18 February was wonderfully clear. We patrolled far to the north in the morning and scrapped with a large formation of Albatri. I bagged two but neither was witnessed. In the afternoon we patrolled to the south but had no contact.
Our new GOC RFC paid a short visit this evening to thank the Squadron for its work. Pleasant fellow, but not quite as imposing as Trenchard, who is now gone to work with the new Air Board. All the news is about a new service combining the RFC and the RNAS. We are very dismayed at this idea and do not want to lose our naval traditions and most importantly, our excellent Royal Navy supply system. Such is progress.
Draper hinted that we may be pulled out of the line for a rest. I am sworn to secrecy but we are expecting a move to Dunkirk or nearby. I confess it will be welcome.
#4556667 - 02/18/2111:55 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Raine, oh the brotherhood is still going strong. Except it only extends to the pilots on the same side. Congrats on bagging those Dreideckers. Too bad the Baron slipped away. It looks like George is about to get some rest, he certainly deserves it.
MFair, looking forward to a catch-up story from our resident cowboy pilot.
18 February, 1918 08:45 Cuirieux, Marne Sector Jasta 19, JG II Offizzierstellvertreter Rudolf Emil Fuchs EK1, HHO 32 confirmed kills
Tybelsky was sitting at his usual table in the Kasino enjoying a drink when Fuchs arrived and plopped on the chair beside him. “- Dogfight. It’s an odd thing. One second it’s all clear and the next all hell breaks loose. We barely arrived over the aerodrome we were supposed to protect when we were attacked from above. It was difficult to pick a good target, so I let them come to me. The Franzose thought he could just sneak behind me, but he didn’t count on the agility of my little Fokker. I was chasing him instead and I would have had him, but his wingman came and put a few holes in my bird. I ignored him thinking he would zoom away for another round. By that time I should have his friend going down, but this Franzose was back on my tail much quicker than I thought. So, a quick one-eighty and the tables have turned. I had him falling out of control. But the little devil had me fooled again. He was getting away! So I gave chase and took a few shots from long range. That worked and we were back to dogfighting, but this fool, Jumpelt, barged in front and thought he could get an easy kill. Nothin’ doin’! I stitched the SPAD as it was falling to its doom. He better not try to steal my claim away from me.”
“- After that I was lower than the rest, but could see more fights above. I followed and once they came down to my level I jumped right in and took out another one of those devils. They have such fragile wings those SPADs. Did you notice?” Tybelsky gave his friend a pat on the back without as much as a word and took a sip of his drink.