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#4557720 - 02/25/21 05:28 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) ***** [Re: Raine]  
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Lou, no idea. The reason could be strategic. Keep Jasta 19 moving so that the enemy is kept in the dark. They could have been ordered to move to make room for one ‘von’ or another. The Kasino was running low on booze. It was time to transfer, but with their hangovers this is the best they could manage without getting lost.
So, scotch isn’t their thing, eh? Have you tried Daiquiris?
Count your lucky stars they’ve confirmed at least some of them. Something queer is going on there.


"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."
#4557786 - 02/26/21 12:02 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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MMMMMMMMMMMM, good yarns . Keep em flying

#4557834 - 02/26/21 12:51 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

26 February 1918
65 Squadron R.F.C.
Poperinge, Belgium

Heavy snow fell as 65's lone sortie of the day went out to find absolutely nothing going on in the skies over Armentières, 'A' and 'B' Flights having been combined once again due to a lack of planes.


Who goes out in this sort of weather? Mad dogs and Englishmen!
[Linked Image]


Captain Abbott and his crew got above the snow at 11,000', and above the clouds at 14,000', but as the cold air was providing some excellent lift Freddy kept climbing his kite just to see how far it would go.
[Linked Image]


At the apex he checked his altimeter, not quite believing he'd managed to coax his Camel to just over 18,500'. No wonder he was struggling to catch his breath.
[Linked Image]


Coming in to land, things on the ground were as bleak as before, the only difference being that now Abbott also had a bit of a headache and a questionable stomach to contend with due to his brief foray into the realm of the angels.
[Linked Image]

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#4557841 - 02/26/21 02:15 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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26 February, 1918
Toulis, Marne Sector
Jasta 19, JG II
Offizzierstellvertreter Rudolf Emil Fuchs EK1, HHO
34 confirmed kills

Snow interspersed with icy rains continues to plague Toulis aerodrome. No flying in this weather. The French poodles and the British bulldogs can have the skies to themselves. Good luck finding your way home, or avoiding mid-air collisions. The German shepherds will stay on the ground, thank you very much.


"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."
#4557843 - 02/26/21 02:32 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit, it would appear that German HQ has just a tad more common sense than British HQ does. Either that or they're short on petrol and the iffy weather provides a convenient way to cover up that fact.

.

#4557857 - 02/26/21 03:52 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Lou, it could be that, but I suspect the preeminent weatherologist Herr Bob von Buckeye had something to do with that.


"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."
#4557869 - 02/26/21 04:42 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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This is why the Bosch will lose the war, Fullofit! Not enough fighting spirit! No flying due to a few snowflakes?!! Bah!

More seriously, I suspect Lou may be using a previous version of my historical weather mod. In my latest version, I decreased the number of days you are assigned to fly in inclement weather, so you have a few more "no fly days."

Incidentally, Fullofit, I have noticed that you often seem to have less snowcover than other DiD players flying on the same date. Can you post your OFFHistoricalWeather file so I can confirm you have the correct file loaded?

#4557873 - 02/26/21 05:27 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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BB, in all likelihood I am using one of your older mod versions. If you would be so kind as to point me to the download link for your most recent update I would gladly grab it and fire it up. smile

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#4557919 - 02/26/21 09:14 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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My apologies, Lou, and to anyone else who may be inadvertently using an earlier version of the Historical Weather mod. Due to inherent laziness on my part, if you are using a version of this mod downloaded from Sandbagger's web page, you are using an older version of the mod. The most current version of this mod, as well as the Optional Cloud mod, is available at the end of my initial post to the following thread:

https://SimHQ.com/forum/ubbthreads.php/topics/4517823/1

I am sorry about any confusion, and I will attempt to get the latest versions placed on Sandbagger's web page, as well.

In order to avoid cluttering up this thread, please post any questions or comments in the mod thread just posted above.

#4557953 - 02/27/21 01:05 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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J.K. Thorpe. Sgt, RFC.
Bed 7 Row 3.
127th Med Cas
Hospital. II Corp, 1st Army
Le Havre, France.

Feb 27, 1918


By Jove, they are showing me the door I did get a 24 hour pass and headed towards Paris to catch the Cafe de Fem Fem then its back to the old Grind. I will sleep when I get back.

Attached Files tumblr_mu5ezlODP91s2wio8o1_500dancers.gif
Last edited by carrick58; 02/27/21 01:05 AM.
#4557956 - 02/27/21 01:38 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: BuckeyeBob]  
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Originally Posted by BuckeyeBob
Incidentally, Fullofit, I have noticed that you often seem to have less snowcover than other DiD players flying on the same date. Can you post your OFFHistoricalWeather file so I can confirm you have the correct file loaded?

Bob, I’ll PM it to you tomorrow.


"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."
#4557961 - 02/27/21 03:04 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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So much time passed. Not for nothing did I start titling Oliver's tale, "À la Recherche du Temps Perdu."
I will revisit the recent, and not so recent exploits of your fellows at a later date but must acknowledge the passing of Ziggy. That was crushing, Fullofit. I am so very sorry. Good on young Rudi for stepping into the breach.
As for the rest of you, I'm glad to see Thorpe, MacAllister, Freddy, and our new addition Jeremiah going strong. Great to have you back MFair.

It's been six weeks since my last posting but I've not been idle. For those who might want a refresher, rather than write a "What has gone before," I'll set this link to Oliver's last installment which covered the dates December 1 - 5, 1917. HERE
____________________________________________________

À la Recherche du Temps Perdu - Part 53 of many



6 December 1917
56 Squadron RFC
Laviéville, France

Early morning run around the field. I was rounding the far end when the klaxon sounded. A Pup emerged from over the tree line waving a long black tail of smoking oil. Even from distance I could see it was shot to pieces. The machine dropped awkwardly onto the frozen earth and bounced toward me, finally clattering to a halt 50 yards away. The pilot shut down the engine then slumped to one side. I raced over and standing on the wing, I could see he was gravely wounded. There was blood all over the cockpit. A ragged star-shaped exit wound puckered the front of his flying coat. I slowly drew his head upright. It was Pixley!! He looked up at me, his face lighting in recognition. “Ripper, Old Man,” he said.

“Ripper, Old man.” I woke with a start to Mac’s voice and took stock of my surroundings. Chair by the fire. Squadron anteroom, Laviéville. Breakfast. “You nodded off. Patrol in thirty minutes.”

No! Pixley. He was right there.

8.45 Defensive patrol from Courcelles aerodrome to the Bois de Robermont. No e/a sighted. Patrol time thus expired we ran the lines then turned for home. Over Bapaume, the Hispano made an explosive clanking sound then started dropping revs. Another death rattle! Clots of oils impacted the windscreen and a plume of grey mist trailed behind B54. I tried not to think about dragging B-B across the plains of Troy.

[Linked Image]

Circled down and landed at the Advanced Landing Ground near Bapaume. Grandpa sent a tender and salvage crew.

Roy did not return from patrol. He dropped out shortly after I left formation, crash landed south of Arras, and was taken to a nearby CCS.

Today a letter from Major Blomfield:

[Linked Image]




7 December 1917
56 Squadron RFC
Laviéville, France

8.45 Line patrol. Vimy Ridge and points 7 miles north. Maybery, Turnbull, Blenkiron and Woodman. Scattered low cumulus over the field but skies cleared nearer the lines. Visibility excellent.

South of Arras, Woodman gave the dud engine signal and returned to Laviéville. I flew with Turnbull. Maybery paired with Blenkiron. On our second patrol circuit, out of a clear sky 4 Pfalz dropped in unseen from the West. How did that happen!

[Linked Image]

Descending fight. Good hits on one. As he ran east, his engine obviously compromised, I made three passes at him from above. None had much effect. Inexcusable to miss like that! In the end I broke off as the ground fire intensified. I was well into Hunland, low, and alone. Climbed to 2000 ft amidst a hail of Archie then ducked into a cloud. Too late. One Boche gunner found the range and rang the bell but good!

A bright flash, a repercussive blow struck the side of my head, knocking me and B54 over as one. I could smell the cordite or whatever it was the Huns used for their anti-aircraft shells. Stunned, I shook my head trying to clear my vision and recover my senses. I emerged from the cloud flying in a 30-degree bank and nosing down. Blind instinct took over as I righted the aircraft. How B54 survived unscathed from the blast I do not know but the Hispano made full revs. The ringing in my ears continued, pulsing in odd time to the sound of the engine. I felt like I’d walked into one of Smokey’s monstrous left hooks.

Got home without incident. Landed less groggy but experienced a woolen detachment from my surroundings as if perception were a second removed from observation. Thoughts tumbled in mixed order. Pulling up to A-Flight hangar I saw Major Balcombe-Brown step out Woodman’s plane and speak briefly to Flight Sergeant Pickett before striding toward his office. As Moody and Allyn took hold of B54, I tried to speak and failed. With some effort I told them about the guns, and spraying lead all over Hunland. They would move B54 to the butts where I meet them there along with 2nd A/M Milton, the ‘A’ Flight armorer, after making my report.

Grandpa was away so I recounted the events of the patrol directly to Major Balcombe-Browne.

“Lt. Woodman left the patrol with a dud engine before we reached the lines,” I said in conclusion.

“Yes, I took his machine up after he landed to confirm it. One can’t be too careful, you know. Turned out the carburetor was loose after all,” the Major acknowledged nonchalantly.

You did what?!

This was infamous! It was all I could do to stifle an outburst.

Steady, Oliver…

“Sir, you have just announced publicly, to one and all, that you suspect Woodman a coward,” I said through clenched teeth.

“Oh? I don’t see it that way,” he countered mildly.

Oblivious. Utterly oblivious.

“That may be, sir, but the squadron most certainly shall. Officers, NCOs, and men.”

When I stood, a full diatribe at the ready, heat suddenly rose behind my eyes and my balance drifted. My ears rang louder with a sharp, tinny whine. Thoughts, articulate a moment before, now jumbled incoherently. At that moment I felt liquid pour over my upper lip.

“Mind your nose, Winningstad,” said the Major. My hand came away bloody. I felt dizzy and set a hand on the desk to steady myself.

“Sit down, Winningstad,” said B-B moving quickly round the desk and helping me into the chair. He looked as a man awkwardly concerned but unsure what to say. Shrugging off a wave of nausea, I pressed a handkerchief to my nose stemming the blood. The Major remained silent at my side, his hand on my shoulder. The spell passed. I didn’t bother with the medical orderly. I’d had my bell rung by the Archie blast, that was all. No different than what happened in any football game.

Visit to the gun butts embarrassingly brief. My sights were dead on. It was the man, not the machine which had failed today.

High winds scotched the afternoon patrol. I spent some hours napping, cloth over my eyes. Light lanced my brain like the pitiless bronze. Brutal headache. I felt as Zeus waiting for Athena to burst forth from his skull. Sunset finally brought some relief.

I took my ticket a year ago today. RAeC Certificate #3955. Seems longer. I’ve just spent the last hours poring through my diary and logbooks, my Iliad, as it were. Combats beyond count. Dead friends. Eliza… So many times, my tale might have ended.

“yet he bent away to one side and avoided the dark death.”


8 December 1917
56 Squadron RFC
Laviéville, France.

8.15 Escort of 3 DH-4s of RFC-49 on their Recce of enemy positions between Bullecourt and the Bapaume-Marcoing road. The full complement: Maybery, Turnbull, Stewart, Woodman and Blenkiron. Good thing too as we were going in very low, the DH-4s at 1300 ft. and ourselves at a mere 3500. We were sitting ducks at this height but the Gods of War were not without a sense of Irony.

East of Ablainzeville aerodrome, still on our side of the lines we overflew (!) 6 low Albatri. Red-noses again. Once more we caught the Baron’s men low. No. 2 stoppage in the Vickers on my first bounce. I climbed to clear the jam and surveyed the scene. A-Flight had Jasta 11 scurrying for their lives. Dove in again and put half a drum into the nearest Hun.

[Linked Image]
He crashed into the woods, two miles east of Ablainzeville

Circling the fallen Hun, I collected Blenkiron and we attacked another pair of Albatri.

[Linked Image]
The pilot slumped forward. He joined his fallen comrade in the woods near Ablainzeville

Alone in the sky, it took me some minutes to find Blenkiron, then eventually Maybery, Turnbull and Woodman hove into view from the East. Three of the DH-4s landed at Ablainzeville, all with visible battle damage but no apparent wounds. All six men gave us a wave as we buzzed their parked machines. Of the remaining DH-4 and Stewart there was no sign.

Tremendous excitement on our return to Laviéville. In addition to my two Huns, Blenkiron and Woodman both scored. We’d caught the six Red-noses flat-footed and dropped four. Riding high, we made our way to the squadron office where Grandpa took our reports. The mood wouldn’t last.

Blenkiron saw my first Hun crash. I was less confident about the second claim as none of the others had seen the Hun go in and I wasn’t precisely sure as to the location. My hope lay with the nearby Archie battery, assuming they didn’t claim the Albatros for themselves. B-B forwarded both claims, as well as Woodman’s, witnessed by Turnbull. In the scattered combat none of saw Blenkiron’s Hun crash but he was quite positive as to its exact location. Major Balcombe-Brown the martinet then made his appearance, refusing to forward the claim. Blenkiron protested, provided exact coordinates. and even offered to show the Major the crashed machine. B-B was adamant in his refusal. There was nothing to be done.

When the others departed, I remained behind and had it out with the CO.

“I strongly protest, sir. Blenkiron has seen 8 months of service and is a trained Observer. He didn’t win his MC for creative thinking. If he states the Hun crashed at these coordinates, I would believe him.”

“Regrettably, I cannot do so without additional corroboration,” replied B-B.

“Sir, you forwarded my second claim, which only ground personnel might have seen. Denying Blenkiron’s claim in these same circumstances suggests you doubt his word as an officer.”

“I disagree. You exaggerate, Winningstad. My decision is final.”

“I repeat my original protest, sir. Further, I would like my objection registered in the squadron record.”

B-B’s eyes set harder. “Your objection is noted, Captain. Is there anything else?”

"No, sir." I departed the office before I truly lost my head and said something wildly insubordinate.

I sit here now seething in anger as I write this account. My headache is back with a vengeance, but the ringing in my ears is almost gone. Major Rainsford Balcombe-Browne, OC No. 56 Squadron has strange blind spots in his dealings with other men and more than a few traits smacking of the Martinet. He doesn’t see it. Neither the message he was sending by denying Blenkiron nor the way his actions with Woodman’s machine would inevitably be interpreted. He can be an awkward fellow at times and is prone to overreact when something doesn’t fit his idea of how things should be. "Land on the world next time!"

I worry for what might happen if I accept a posting elsewhere.



9 December 1917
56 Squadron RFC
Laviéville, France

Arthur was screaming this time. Something was tearing at him from below as he lay trapped under the wreckage. I tried to reach him. It would be nothing to lift the shattered fuselage and set him free. The same unseen hands held me back no matter how violently I struggled.

“Oliver, help me!!!”

His screams became incoherent now. My own strangled, heaving cry burst forth as I jerked awake.


Harris bent over me, a worried look on his face. “Rain, sir,” he said in low voice. “Morning patrols cancelled.”

Weather not improving. Field swamped. No flying today. I spent the morning writing letters.

In the afternoon Maybery appropriated B-Bs Crossley (I really must learn how to drive an automobile) and we headed up to No. 20 Casualty Clearing Station at Boisleux au Mont to visit Roy. The Station was a sea of wounded men. Orderlies staged the stretchered wounded in a huge tent, preparing for the arrival of the Ambulance Train.

We found Roy sitting up on his bed, head bandaged and in conversation with the man beside him. He was visibly pleased to see us and boy did he have a tale to tell. Roy was pulled unconscious from the wreckage of his plane and pronounced dead on arrival at No 20 CCS. When he woke, he was in the morgue and in a state of some disorientation, pounded on the locked door. Gave the passing orderly one hell of a fright and the terrified fellow took some time before summoning the courage to open the door and let Roy out. Hearing this his ward mate burst out laughing.

The man next to Roy, Lt. Thompson, turned out to be a Gloucester!

“Which battalion?” I inquired.

When he answered “2nd of the 6th, I could barely contain my excitement. I briefly recounted how I’d been a guest of the Gloucesters after my escape from Hunland in May, and bowling some Mills (Miwls) Bombs to some lurking Huns. Richard looked at me, surprised. I’d not told anyone about Thomas Prewett.

“That was you, sir? Before my time but I heard the story.” said Thompson.

“Is Prewett well?” I asked.

“He was when I last saw him,” replied Thompson. “That was… he stopped and tapped his fingers together trying to remember. Three days ago. Three days ago, when the Huns finally pushed us back to Welsh Ridge. Thousands of them. They attacked on the 2nd. Our new CO copped it the first day. Fought them off for three days but the blighters took La Vacquerie village, then the trenches on our right and hit us from two sides. Endless streams of wounded men heading back past me down the trench. Last I saw Prewett he was with Captain Downs and some men heading back to drive the Huns out of the trenches on our right. We had to fall back to the second line. I was hit by a shell fragment right after.” ***

Phobos’ icy fingers clawed upward from the pit of my stomach. The thought of Thomas Prewett dead was almost too much to bear.

We left Thompson and Roy in good spirits. The ward nurse thought Roy might be fit in a week for which I was glad. Indra Roy had been a cheerful presence in the mess. He was, as far as I knew, one of the few if not the only Indians in the RFC. He was a quick learner and a keen student who soaked up everything the older pilots taught him. I thought his flying skills stood room for improvement but there was no doubting his courage. He was eager for combat, almost too keen. D@mn young too, he just turned Nineteen a week ago. Five months ago, he was still at St. Paul’s School and now he couldn’t wait to get back to combat flying. I’d brought Roy his sketching pad and some of his colored pencils. He promised a portrait of B54 on his return.

Returned to letter from Eliza!

[Linked Image]

Teaching surgical nursing steams now. She’s moved up fast, but Eliza always was a quick study. She sounded happier. “How marvelous.” That was the old Eliza, the one before Aldermaston. What explanation, I wonder. When might I see her again?

As I suspected, the Archie boys claimed yesterday’s second Red-nose. Wing confirmed the first.
One Hundred Nine.

***For a gripping primary source account of this attack, see the diary of Private William Reginald Dick, 2/6 Gloucesters. HERE


10 December 1917
56 Squadron RFC
Laviéville, France

Harris’ whispered announcement of more rain and scrubbed patrols sent me back to sleep for another hour. At breakfast, B-B relayed some news:

“General Trenchard has invited you to lunch with him today at his Advanced Headquarters in Fienvillers,” said Major Balcombe-Brown. “I rather think he will offer you a command. Be warned, I believe him to be frustrated by your previous refusal of a squadron, or a posting to Home Establishment.”

1st A/M Swift drove the CO’s Crossley along the muddy roads with gleeful abandon. An hour later I stepped out of the filth-covered vehicle at Fienvillers, which lay adjacent to Candas, home to that festering orifice, the No. 2 Aircraft Depot. Mercifully, the two establishments did not share a common mess.

General Hugh Trenchard, GOC Royal Flying Corps, greeted me with his typical stentorian enthusiasm. We were joined at lunch by the General’s private secretary, Major Maurice Baring, whom I held in high regard. He was no stranger to the officers and men of 56. We’d met several times, most recently in London. It was Baring who guided me through the particulars of my VC investiture.

Conversation wove a meandering course through my experience of the last 8 months and my thinking on air combat tactics before returning inevitably to the possibility of a German Spring Offensive. My mention of McCudden’s ideas regarding a dedicated group to hunt German 2-seaters intrigued the General greatly. I got the impression I was being tested. Lunch finally concluded; the sharp pointy end of the meeting came round at last.

“Will we lose you to the American Air Service?” asked Boom.

“Not at present, sir. My one encounter with that particular branch was most unsatisfactory, to put it politely. The service appears rather disorganized and beset by fratricidal politics of the worst kind. I doubt they’ll field a viable squadron before the Summer. In any event, I don’t believe my stock very high with those in command.”

“How can that be?” asked Boom, raising eyebrows in genuine surprise.

“Well, sir, I gave an interview to an American journalist in October. I spoke a bit of truth which undoubtedly ruffled some feathers, especially among the West-Pointers.”

“Did you?” replied Boom, in dry amusement. “Best to avoid newspapers altogether.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’ve given tremendous service, Winningstad, but it’s time for your next posting. Eight months in France, how many hours in the logbook?

“372, sir.”

“Nearly as many as Captain Clement,” mused the General. His attention trailed off reflectively for a few seconds. Amazing he would know that number so precisely.
“What would you have, Winningstad?” he continued. “Home Establishment? A squadron?”

“General, I have no doubts regarding my ability to command a squadron, but that would be a waste of my energies and skills. I’m a man of action, sir, at my best in the air, smashing the Hun and leading others to do likewise.

and bringing them home alive... some of them.

“I should go mad behind a desk, grounded there like Achilles in his tent, while others take my place in the fighting.”

The fighting where men win glory …


“True, a Squadron Commander doesn’t lead operations currently,” answered Boom, “I do believe that circumstance will change when the Hun resumes the Offensive come Spring. With Russia out of the war, all those Hun divisions will transfer west. We’ll need every man in the air to meet that onslaught.”

“Do you think an attack certain, sir?

“I do,” he answered with a concrete finality.

What happened next seemed out of my control. An all too familiar detachment came upon me and in the grip of some mad impulse I charged right into the lion’s jaws.

“You mentioned Captain Clement, sir…”

“Terrible loss,” replied the General.

“If I may be permitted an observation, sir. The French saw fit to award Captain Clement the Croix de Guerre yet his family have nothing from his King, save a letter of deep regret. How is that? Thirteen months of frontline service. Fourteen victories…”

My barb struck a nerve. The General was no fool and saw clearly through my clumsy subterfuge. Major Baring’s eyes flew wide in surprise, his monocle tumbling like a falling mountaineer before wrenching violently as the lanyard snapped taut, just as it had that July day at St. Omer when I’d lost my mind with the King.

“If you think your record of service allows for such familiarity, Winningstad, or leave to make such insinuations then you are very much MISTAKEN!” boomed the General.

Oh Lord, you’ve really done it now, Oliver! You’re finished.

General Trenchard’s glare would have melted holes in armor plate, and trained unrelentingly upon me it was all I could do to meet it without flinching. Boom’s features darkened as he drew a full lungful and handed down my sentence.

“You’re a damned impertinent young officer!” he roared.

“Yes, sir. It’s a defect of character.”

“Be silent!”

“Yes, sir.”

Boom glowered silently for uncounted seconds as I sat squirming, then as the storm passed, he assumed a calm, almost paternal tone.

“Now see here, Winningstad, it simply won’t do for the highest scoring pilot in the Flying Corps to get the chop because he’s too pigheaded to go for a needed rest. I’ll brook no more refusals. Don’t force me to send you to America on a fund-raising tour.”

Mother of God! Could he do that? Think Oliver. Think!

“General, there’s another possibility. Perhaps I might serve as instructor then return to France to meet the Hun in the Spring, be it with a squadron or as a Flight Commander.”

Boom smiled. “Perhaps you might,” he replied without commitment, and turned to Major Baring. “Make a note of that, Maurice.”
The General stood then, signaling the conclusion of our meeting.

“Congratulations and good luck to you,” he said. I stood there unmoving for a moment, thinking he wished to shake hands. Boom regarded me inscrutably, then spoke, not unkindly, “Remove yourself Winningstad.”

I snapped to attention, saluted and exited the room, realizing then how sorely I’d tempted fate and Boom.

T. B. “Grandpa” Marson, our magnificent Recording Officer, goes to HE tomorrow. Tonight, we celebrated. Many speeches in tribute. Richard recounted how Grandpa’s 10-year-old daughter Thais had the entire squadron wrapped about her finger during the emergency deployment back to England in June. Richard, Beery and Turnbull are the only ones who remain from those days.

[Linked Image]



11 December 1917
56 Squadron RFC
Laviéville, France

8.00 Patrol of Hun lines north of the Bapaume-Marcoing Rd. Climbout over the old neighborhood at Chipilly.

[Linked Image]

High winds churning up whitecaps on the Étang de la Hutte below. Mind wandering. Headache is back. Freezing over the lines. No e/a sighted.



12 December 1917
56 Squadron RFC
Laviéville, France

9.00 Morning show was an escort of 2 RFC-49 DH4s on a recce of the front from Fontaine-Uterte Aerodrome to the St. Quentin-Amiens road. Eponymous F-U… the antipathy was mutual.
With Maybery, Turnbull, Stewart, Blenkiron and Woodman, we crossed the lines at 8000 feet. One DH4 dropped out shortly thereafter. No e/a sighted for the next hour. Saw the remaining DH4 to friendly lines then patrolled St. Quentin to Cambrai.

Scrapped with five high Pfalz over Mont St. Martin aerodrome. Yellow Tails of Jasta 10. We fought down to 2000 feet before I could land a proper burst.

[Linked Image]
He flew right through the stream of tracer, then slid down to crash near Premont aerodrome.

No sooner had I reformed with Maybery than the Hun’s silver comrades rained down bent on revenge. Some hot moments over Premont, but the Pfalz were uncoordinated and attacked piecemeal. We soon regained the advantage.

[Linked Image]
Maybery forced the Hun to break directly into my gunsight.

[Linked Image]
A third Pfalz entered the lists. He too fell near Premont.

Gathered Maybery, Blenkiron and Woodman and returned to Laviéville. Turnbull and Stewart landed 15 minutes later.

Orders came through early afternoon for a special mission: A dusk attack on Lieu St. Amand aerodrome, 20 miles into Hunland. This was a job for a night bombing squadron but I was eager for a fight and made my case to the CO. With darkness falling, Major Balcombe-Brown reluctantly gave his assent to my leading a 4-ship flight and making the attempt with Turnbull, Fielding-Johnson and Maybery.

[Linked Image]
The sun fled below the horizon as we took off.

[Linked Image]
A solitary search beam lit our path through darkening purple skies.

Weather conditions deteriorated. It wasn’t until we reached the lines that my head cleared and the full madness of what we were about to attempt struck home. I could see next to nothing and we had a 50-mile round trip to the target and back. In stygian gloom I fired off the red flare and washed out the patrol. Getting home alive would be no small challenge.

The flight kept station by the glow of our engine exhaust. As we approached what I hoped was Laviéville, the tree line obscured the firepots lining the field. Descending, I fired off my last flare into the ground on approach, hoping it might better illuminate the treacherous path between the trees.

[Linked Image]
Leading the way through the gap, I cleared the branches by a yard then set B54 roughly onto the field.

[Linked Image]
Safely down.

Amazingly, the entire flight landed without mishap. What the hell had I been thinking even to attempt such a stunt?

After making my report I braced for the expected tantrum from the CO but it never came. Major Balcombe-Brown was on the telephone to 13th Wing arguing the particulars of the aborted evening show.

“No sir I do not agree. I will not squander the lives of highly trained pilots on …” the Major began, then immediately pulled the telephone away from his ear. I couldn’t make out the stream of shouted words coming from the earpiece. The torrent subsided; B-B resumed speaking.

“Yes, sir, Captain Winningstad led the patrol personally. In his judgment the situation necessitated a washout and I accept his word implicitly. Yes, that is correct, sir. A very good evening to you as well,” said the Major hanging up the telephone.

“Wing saw reason in the end. The mission order came down directly from HQ not from Colonel Playfair,” he said. “It was a gimcrack plan from the start. I should never have let you go.”

I knew then that B-B, despite being oblivious in certain realms of human social interaction, and harboring a tendency toward the Martinet, would take care of his people. He’d backed me to Wing and had outright refused the order for 56 to ground strafe during the Cambrai show. The Squadron would be safe in his hands. Whatever his flaws might be, he would protect the pilots and the men. I could leave now.

I turned to go just as the evening dispatch rider entered, without knocking of course. The three Pfalz from the morning all confirmed. One hundred twelve.


Last edited by epower; 03/01/21 02:08 PM.
#4557972 - 02/27/21 11:50 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
Posts: 4,609
RAF_Louvert Online grunt
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
RAF_Louvert  Online Grunt
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
Senior Member

Joined: May 2012
Posts: 4,609
L'Etoile du Nord
.

Epower - A wonderful start at catching up! The fates have not been unkind to Oliver thought they’ve certainly been testing him. Also, I believe his bell ringing by Archie was a bit more than first imagined, in particular given what he said to Boom. I’ve never taken Oliver for a fool, but between that comment, and his pushing for that night sortie, I fear his judgement has been clouded by concussion. Some time back in Blighty teaching others the ways of flying and fighting might be a good thing for Ripper, at least for a while.

Carrick - Ah, the Cafe de Fem Fem. Good times. And good to see Sgt. Thorpe is back in form.

.

#4557983 - 02/27/21 03:03 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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RAF_Louvert Online grunt
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
RAF_Louvert  Online Grunt
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
Senior Member

Joined: May 2012
Posts: 4,609
L'Etoile du Nord
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27 February 1918
65 Squadron R.F.C.
Poperinge, Belgium

Poor weather stymied patrols for the day, though Captain Abbott did manage a roving commission in the late afternoon to the front and back amid heavy clouds, light snow, and intermittent winds. It was a waste of time, but it was his waste of time. Upon returning to camp Freddy filled out an AAR then grabbed a hot cuppa’ at the mess before proceeding to his hut where he intended to indulge in a nap before dinner. However, once arriving he found a letter resting on his bed. It was postmarked London and the back of the envelope proclaimed it to be from the Grosvenor Hotel. Abbott torn open the flap and found a single typewritten page inside, and was gobsmacked to discover it was from his father! The young airman lay back on his bunk and began reading:

Frederick,

I am writing to inform you that, at the start of the new year, I diverted the funds that were to be entrusted to you upon your twentieth birthday to my lead investment banker, Mr. Herbert H. Finlay, and instructed him to prepare a portfolio that will instead be signed over to you on that day, (provided you survive hostilities until January next). In addition, and as seed, I have further instructed Mr. Finlay to move my minor holdings in Auto Carriers Ltd, W.G. Pye & Co. Ltd, and British & Colonial Aeroplane Co. Ltd into that portfolio. Why have I done this?

It has become apparent over these last several months that you have landed on a calling at which you are fairly adept, and while it is nothing I would have imagined you capable of I am relieved you’ve found something of value that you can actually do. I would strongly advise you stick with it as I see few, if indeed any, other viable options for your future. While I recommend this I am also quite aware that a life of military service will never present you with any real financial stability or independence, and it is for this reason that I have commissioned your investment portfolio. You can trust Mr. Finlay implicitly to create, build, strengthen, and maintain for you a secure and ongoing source of substantial income that will allow you a comfortable lifestyle during, and after, your military career.

I direct you most strenuously, once this portfolio has been entrusted to you, to allow Mr. Finlay to do his job when it comes to it. If and when he advises you to sell a holding, you sell; likewise should he advise you to buy, you buy. While you may think it smart to take it upon yourself to go after a certain investment some friend or another has tipped you on, do not do so until you’ve allowed Mr. Finlay to investigate. If there is money to made through such a tip he will make it for you. He’s as shrewd as I am when it comes to such things, which is why I’ve chosen to place your financial future in his most capable hands. You may expect his letter of introduction in the near future as well as a full statement of the holdings being assembled for you as of the writing of said letter.

Father



Captain Abbott stared blankly at the note for some few minutes afterwards, not quite believing what it was he’d just read, more so between the lines than the actual lines themselves. Was Father trying to indicate --- could he possibly be saying that he was somehow --- proud of him? And honestly concerned for his future?

.

#4558008 - 02/27/21 08:18 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Nov 2014
Posts: 3,353
Fullofit Online content
Senior Member
Fullofit  Online Content
Senior Member

Joined: Nov 2014
Posts: 3,353
Ajax, ON
Epower, welcome back! It’s been a while. So much has happened. Unfortunately Ziggy is no more, but Rudi seems to have taken up the mantle.
Now, you have some catching up to do. It seems the gremlins in H-S continue to rear its ugly head. Such a good plane, such a shoddy engine. And it isn’t just Wininngstad’s luck either. Everyone seems to enjoy the occasional Hisso hissy fit.
That Balcombe-Brown chap could use a lesson or two in interpersonal relations and I’m sure Oliver would be more than willing to teach it with the help of his right hook. From the looks of it, he may still do it.
Rotten news of Prewett’s probable demise.
Hmm, “RFC correspondent” - not the most endearing of names Eliza had called poor Oliver. That’s one cold shoulder. By comparison lunch with Trenchard appeared more amicable, despite all that shouting. So, HE for Oliver. Looks like perfect opportunity to get to know Clarissa better.
I concur, the idea to mount a night attack was less than inspired. What came over Winningstad to even consider it? At least he found an ally in B-B in the end. Congrats on the confirmed Pfalzen. Someone should tell the Huns not to send those death traps out.

Lou, way to go Papa Abbott! Nurse Ellison will be ecstatic of the potential additional income. Perhaps Freddy may even regain a parent after all?

27 February, 1918
Toulis, Marne Sector
Jasta 19, JG II
Offizzierstellvertreter Rudolf Emil Fuchs EK1, HHO
34 confirmed kills

Liebe Berta,
It’s been snowing here for a number of days. Days I care not to count. We are all suffering from cabin fever. Most of us suffer also from incessant hangovers as a result of such boredom. There is very little to do here. We are ordered to get out every day for a round of regimented exercises to keep us in shape. After that we are left to our own devices. Writing letters to loved ones, darning our socks, drinking. One time, we all went out to make snowmen. I constructed one to represent Tybelsky and I added a very generous piece of male anatomy to it. Albert was very proud of that embellishment. He will be very sorry to see it melt when it gets warmer.
We have recently transferred to Toulis, our new aerodrome just south of Marle and we all fly now Herr Fokker’s Wunderwaffe creation. Before, it was difficult to battle in the old Albatros. Now, it is almost too easy to shoot the SPADs down. It is Wunderbar! This aeroplane will win this war for us yet. And when the war is over we will see each other soon!
Please, pray for our Leaders’ wisdom to bring us swift victory.
Love,
Rudi


"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."
#4558010 - 02/27/21 08:38 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
Posts: 6,207
carrick58 Offline
Hotshot
carrick58  Offline
Hotshot

Joined: Aug 2010
Posts: 6,207
J.K. Thorpe
Sgt, Rfc. M.C. MM.
41 Sqn
Lealvillers, Flanders.
4 Victory
5 Unconfirmed

Feb 28 1918.

I got back to the Sqn Mess after riding in a motorcycle side car all morning. The Sqn was up on a hop except for C Flight The Sqn's ADJ said they had a run in with the Red Tail Boys coped real muggin . the day before and lost 3 a/c behind the lines so I will be helping them out
On a different note, He also said that the Pilots are out of sorts with a new pilot named Johnson,but the C.O. said he's a little Fireball He gets Huns and thats his job. The Maj will stick behind him as long as keeps his nose clean and runs up a score. All that aside, I was assigned Sgt Stephens a/c from A Flight as he had a bit of bad luck . The old bean after drinking went walking in the dark and fell into a Slit Trench and broke both his legs.


Attached Files CFS3 2021-02-27 12-50-55-02.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 02/27/21 09:02 PM.
#4558049 - 02/28/21 11:52 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
Posts: 4,609
RAF_Louvert Online grunt
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
RAF_Louvert  Online Grunt
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
Senior Member

Joined: May 2012
Posts: 4,609
L'Etoile du Nord
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Carrick - Those slit trenches will sneak up on a fellow if he's not careful, in particular when it's dark out, and drunk out. Be mindful that Thorpe doesn't suffer the same fate.

Fullofit - It appears Rudi is quite stuck on Berta. Are there wedding bells in his future, provided he has a future after the war? Or, like Oliver, is his "liebe" one of several he's keeping on a string? By the way, darning the socks before drinking is a wise order and one I'm guessing was learned by trial and error.

Epower - Speaking of Oliver's women, I neglected to comment earlier, a nice touch that with the stationary Eliza wrote her letter on. A discovery from yet another explored rabbit hole perhaps?

.

Horrid weather at Poperinge so no outings today for 65 Squadron. Maybe some sock darning.

.

#4558050 - 02/28/21 11:55 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
Posts: 4,609
RAF_Louvert Online grunt
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
RAF_Louvert  Online Grunt
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
Senior Member

Joined: May 2012
Posts: 4,609
L'Etoile du Nord
.

Here are Freddy's EOM stats.

Captain Frederick H.B. Abbott, DSO MC CdG
65 Squadron RFC
Poperinge, Belgium
Sopwith Camel
224 missions
273.45 hours
49 victories
91 claims

.

#4558051 - 02/28/21 12:30 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Nov 2014
Posts: 3,353
Fullofit Online content
Senior Member
Fullofit  Online Content
Senior Member

Joined: Nov 2014
Posts: 3,353
Ajax, ON
Lou, hopefully Freddy can accomplish ALL his sock tasks before starting his drinking. It won’t work the other way around. Take it form Rudi.
As to Fuchs’ women, there is only one he has his eye on. He’s young, hasn’t seen much of the world yet and no chance to play the field.

28 February, 1918
Toulis, Marne Sector
Jasta 19, JG II
Offizzierstellvertreter Rudolf Emil Fuchs EK1, HHO
34 confirmed kills

Miserable weather continues. All socks are in perfect condition.

End of Month Stats:

Offizzierstellvertreter Rudolf Emil Fuchs EK1, HHO
Jasta 19, JG II
Toulis, Marne Sector
Fokker Dr.I
41 missions
31.32 hrs
34 victories
59 claims


"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."
#4558140 - 03/01/21 01:37 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
Posts: 6,207
carrick58 Offline
Hotshot
carrick58  Offline
Hotshot

Joined: Aug 2010
Posts: 6,207
J.K. Thorpe
Sgt, Rfc. M.C. MM.
41 Sqn
Lealvillers, Flanders.
4 Victory
5 Unconfirmed


End of Month Report:

Weather has been a bit spotty.

SE 5a
29.22 hrs
47 Missions.

Names pass ed around from the Cafe Fem Fem , . 2 bottles of Brandy donated to the Sqn Mess. Dropped off 2 French Post Cards to the maintenance Types 's from the Cafe performers along with and 5 Tins of Bully Beef ( complements of an un locked door at the Hospital )

Attached Files thSE5 Gav tank.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 03/01/21 03:20 PM.
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