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#4474403 - 05/16/19 10:47 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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77_Scout - I'm so gutted to head about Aleck. I was just beginning an MC citation to send Lou when I read the news. Unfortunately the MC was not given posthumously until 1979. Don't wait too long to PM me to start a new fellow, though. Promise -- No BE2s this time...

Lederhosen, congratulations on the EK II and EK I. Well deserved.

Wulfe, so now all three Fullard brothers are in France. The story possibilities are intriguing.

Carrick, Some great photos from Mallory.

Lou, thanks so much for keeping up things. I'm on the road all next week but then I'll be able to get a little more time at WOFF.

Here is the latest from Jim Colllins...

An Airman’s Odyssey – by James Arthur Collins

Part Thirty-Seven: In which I meet a dragon in the night


My return to St-Omer was like one of those dreams where you are half awake and half asleep, a state of tentative reality. It had been three months since I’d last been there. Back in January I’d dreaded the sight of a Morane. When Kennedy-Cochrane-Patrick ordered me into the thing I was ready to die. Now the little Morane had become my familiar friend. St-Omer, on the other hand, was a stranger. Patrick was gone, off to a new squadron in England. And the pilot’s pool was crowded with neophytes, some wingless, all fresh from flying school and full of bravado.

I avoided them like the plague. They would not want to hear anything I had to say. I though of heading over to RFC Headquarters to inquire how my transfer had come about, but the Training Officer reminded me that HQ had moved south to St-André to be closer to Haig at Montreuil. Instead I wandered into town to get drunk.

That was unsuccessful, the bars crowded and overpriced. I retired to bed and early the next morning received my orders to deliver a BE2 to Farnborough. The machine was fitted with some kind of new wireless set that had been undergoing trials at the front. Over breakfast, I met a Lieutenant Smythe-Parkhurst, RE, who was the local high priest of wireless types. He was returning to the Royal Aircraft Factory and would join me for the flight in the forward seat. We charted out the route together. We planned to pass west of Calais and strike out for Dungeness. From there, we would cross Sussex and skirt the South Downs to Guildford, edging west-northwest to where the Basingstoke Canal could guide us to Farnborough.

We lifted off in drizzle with a blanket of cloud around 8000 feet. Smythe-Parkhurst and I climbed steadily towards the Channel and picked our way through the clouds, emerging into brilliant sunlight. The warmth penetrated our heavy flying gear, and despite the sub-freezing temperatures, sweat ran down my back. It took less than a quarter-hour for the chalk cliffs to peek through the haze, momentary an illusion, then a light streak against the steely blue of the Channel, and finally the defined outline of the white bluffs, welcome symbols of home, crested with tidy green fields and copses of oak. Smythe-Parkhurst dismounted our Lewis gun and settled into his seat. Fifty minutes later, we circled over the broad roofs and clustered buildings of the Factory. Our benign old BE turned gently and settled down over the field like an elderly matron settling in her favourite chair.

[Linked Image]
"We lifted off in drizzle..."

And then from nowhere, just as we were about to touch down, a large white horse galloped directly across our path! I kicked the rudder left and pulled the stick back. The BE nosed up about ten feet, skidded off to one side, stalled, and slammed heavily onto the grass. We were home.

I bade farewell to Smythe-Parkhurst and reported to the Orderly Room, where I was told a car awaited to take me to my new squadron at Hounslow Heath. The journey was less than an hour, and I asked the driver to stop at Thorpe, a village on the way. I knew my mother’s grandfather was buried there at St. Mary’s Church. I spent a few minutes finding his stone. The entire time I’d been in the RFC I chummed with Jericho and Swanson, feeling very colonial and different. Now, here, on my own, I felt very much at home. I suppose that, like most Canadians, the “old country” lay close to the surface of our sense of self.

Hounslow aerodrome was a wonderfully well-built affair compared to what I’d been used to in France. The office was a properly constructed affair with a concrete foundation and metalled roof, and the quarters were all sturdy wooden buildings with glass windows. The corporal clerk explained to me that this was all new and that they’d been living under canvas a month ago. I asked for and was directed to the office of the Squadron Commanding Officer, Major T.C. Higgins.

“Mr. Collins, welcome to thirty-nine,” he exclaimed as I stood to attention and saluted sharply. He motioned for me to sit and offered a cigarette for an expensive case on his desk. They were very fine and fat Turkish ones, and I relaxed back in the chair.

“So. You’re a Morane pilot. I’m not quite sure why you’ve been sent to us so urgently, although I’m happy to have you here,” said the Major.

I shrugged. “To be direct, I’m not sure why I’m here myself. It’s been suggested someone pulled strings for this move, but it sure as hell wasn’t me, sir. If I had my way, I’d be back in 3 Squadron tonight.”

The boss nodded. “I have a wire from your OC at Number Three to that effect. To be honest, I’d suspected you were a shirker with political connections before receiving it.” He took a long draw on this cigarette and looked out the window to where a BE was being manhandled to a stop in the stiff breeze. “You’ll be of use, of course. And perhaps you’ll be able to get back to France in due course. What do you know of us?”

“Nothing,” I admitted.

Major Higgins sighed. “Well, Cabinet is in a snit about the recent Zeppelin raids and we’re supposed to be the answer. We’ve been working-up for night flying against the bloody things, but we’ve yet to see one in the air. I daresay Cabinet’s expectations far outweigh the likelihood of success. The plan is to establish our three flights around the city in a ring, but for now we are concentrated here. Have you done any night flying?”

“Not really, sir,” I said. “I’ve taken off before first light and sometimes been able to form up in low light, but I’ve always landed in daylight. And I’ve never fought at night.”

The Major nodded. “Then I suggest you get settled in today and start tomorrow with familiarising yourself with the machines and the area. We’ll get you some practice around dusk at flying in reduced light. I’m afraid the first few landings at night are somewhat risky, so do take care not to break my aeroplanes or kill yourself.”

With that he escorted me to the mess for drinks before supper. There were too many names to remember, but several stand out. There was a new man named Chilton, a little fellow with a round face who the chaps called Tubby. There was Fred Sowrey, who apparently had two brothers also in the RFC. Splendid type. Then there was also Harris from Rhodesia, ever so solid and serious. He plied me with questions about Saskatchewan farming. Finally, there was Billy Leefe Robinson, a fellow I took to at once. He had a certain devilish quality and was disgustingly good-looking. I decided at once to invite him to join me in town at the first opportunity. I thought that the second prettiest girl he’d attract would be a far greater catch than I’d meet on my own. It seemed a good bunch.

Supper was a splendid roast such as I’d long missed in France. Pudding was splendid, a sherry trifle. And there was stilton and port aplenty. Yes, I still missed 3 Squadron, but not as much as I had this morning. Around nine o’clock I made my way unsteadily to my room in Hut 4. The compartment was meant for two pilots, but I had it to myself. I stowed my kit and fell into bed.

At 10:50 p.m., a klaxon shocked me to life. I stumbled into the hall to find fellows clambering into boots and sweaters. “It’s a raid,” someone shouted.

I had not yet had an aircraft allocated to me, but I dressed quickly and chased after the others to the hangars. Several BE2s were already being steered by Ack Emmas onto the field. The Strange mountings were set with the Lewis guns pointed upwards from the pilots’ cockpits. I shouted for the mechanics to ready a machine. After some confusion, a sergeant directed me towards a machine being readied in the next hangar. On this machine, the machine gun was fixed over the top wing in a conventional manner, as in a Nieuport. I climbed into the seat and waited for the engine to come up to temperature. Major Harris appeared and climbed up to shout at me to patrol east of the city. He asked if I were sure I wanted to fly without any practice at night landings. I nodded. The Major jumped down and I waved away the chocks. The flames from the exhaust blinded me momentarily as I pointed the machine parallel to the line of fire-pots that edged the field. In seconds the tail was up and when the rumble of the wheels turned momentarily to little thumps, I eased the stick back and lifted into blackness.

The night was moonless. I switched on the panel lights and stared at the bubble in the spirit level to ensure I didn’t slip into the trees somewhere below. After a minute the landscape came into focus, long ponds and wetlands reaching down to the Thames and standing out only faintly from the darkness of the fields. I leaned over the side, and to my shock saw the yellowish shape of another BE not a hundred yards below. I let my machine drift south. I’d had no briefing, but it made sense to me that on a dark night like this, the Hun airships would have to follow the river to London. I decided to skirt the city to the south and then come north again to the river.

BANG! My heart leapt to my throat. I’d hit something, or something had hit me. A bird? I looked behind and caught the faintest outline of a barrage balloon. I’d run my undercarriage over the top of the thing, mere inches from disaster! But I was alive and shivering in the dark with the million rooftops of London below. I followed my compass southeast and switched the panel lights off to let my eyes adjust fully to the blackness.

About ten frigid minutes passed as the BE climbed steadily higher. Ghostly fingers of light appeared far ahead – searchlights pointing straight upwards. I was flying due east and now I angled to the northeast, searching for a glimmer that would be the Thames. Ten more minutes passed. To the east the searchlights suddenly moved, waving like magician’s wands across the grey of the night. The searchlight crews must have heard sounds in the sky, I thought, and I turned east over East Anglia, the Thames now glimmering faintly a couple of miles off to my right. The BE droned on. After several minutes, I saw some flashes far ahead, a little off to my left. It was friendly Ack-Ack. I turned gently towards them and switched on the panel lights momentarily to read the compass and altimeter – 10000 feet and climbing.

The flashes of Archie continued, approaching the city. The sense of loneliness was overwhelming. And then it was there. To the left of the cowling, a little below and silhouetted against a cloud, I saw the unmistakable outline of a German airship. I dared not avert my gaze, for the thing was a mere wisp in the night. Lose it and it would not again be found. With visions of St. George and the dragon in my head, I charged the Lewis and approached the giant airship in a shallow dive from its rear right quarter. I could not estimate the range at which I fired, but I emptied a double drum on that first pass and had the momentary image of a dirty big Maltese cross on the side of the beast as I broke off to the left and zoomed into the darkness to regain height. I saw that there was a machine gun position on the back of the airship and the fellow there was firing in my direction. At least one round hit my machine. I turned to the right for another pass, but the Hun monster was gone.

[Linked Image]
"To the left of the cowling, a little below and silhouetted against a cloud, I saw the unmistakable outline of a German airship."

It took about five minutes and the aid of more AA flashes to see the faint outline of a Zeppelin some distance ahead and at my level. To be honest, I am not sure it was the same craft. Nonetheless I closed on the thing and fired another drum. I broke away down and to the right as a stream of German tracer sought me out. I changed to my final drum and pressed on to the west, straining my eyes for a hint of the airship.

This time I caught a faint glimpse of the Zeppelin a little above me and quite close. I began firing as soon as I nosed up and continued for five or ten seconds until the Lewis stopped with the cocking handle in the forward position. It was the end of my ammunition and unfortunately the Hun monster continued on its way.

The return flight to Hounslow was uneventful, except that I surprised myself with my rage at the idea of these horrid devices with their dirty black crosses flying over “my” England to drop bombs on families in their homes, and I grew in determination to bag one. I maintained six thousand feet until I knew I was well past the city, having no desire to meet another barrage balloon. The fens stood out as patches of lighter grey, guiding me home until the bluish fairy lights of the fire-pots, laid out in an L, outlined my landing area. I throttled back, approaching the field with far more confidence that my experience merited. At the last second a tree passed beneath the machine, uncomfortably close. I held parallel to the line of flaming pots. There was the grass, or the illusion of grass, I held the nose up and met the ground with a gentle bump. I trundled towards the hangars and cut the engine as the mechanics ran to me and steadied the wingtips. My first night landing had been textbook.

I’d seen a Zeppelin, fired at it, and lived. In fact, I might have attacked several airships for all I knew. Nonetheless, my story would deserve a drink.

Attached Files Leaving St Omer.pngZeppelin 2.png
#4474423 - 05/17/19 01:42 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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An Airman’s Odyssey – by James Arthur Collins

Part Thirty-Eight: In which I become a sleuth


Life in 39 Squadron was pleasant. We stood by in the evenings unless on leave, and were required to fly only two or three times a week on exercises and routine patrols, usually involving landing at night. I’d become good chums with Tubby Chilton and Billy Leefe Robinson. That was a difference. On Home Establishment, one learned and used the Christian names of one’s squadron mates. At the front it was unusual, except with very close friends and then usually in private. I suppose it was a public school thing, or perhaps it was simply a way to maintain a degree of distance from mates who might not be there at breakfast the next day.

In any event, it wasn’t too difficult to get away. I learned from Billy the art of planning cross-country trips that required a brief touch-down near a large manor house. RFC pilots were much sought after as guests, and this was a ripping way to enjoy a fine tea before heading home to Hounslow. And Billy was corresponding with two very attractive young ladies whom he’d met by landing near their homes.

Tubby, on the other hand, was motoring mad and the two of us pitched in (I did more than my share) to buy a second-hand 10 hp Singer which we overhauled with a great deal of help from Sergeant Buckle, my lead AM. We split the driving and let Sergeant Buckle use the car once a week. On the afternoon of Saturday, 29 April we received permission to head into town as long as we were back by midnight. Tubby wanted to take in the new show The Bing Boys are Here at the Alhambra. I had other plans. He dropped me off by Charing Cross Station and we promised to meet there at 10:30 that evening.

Even in its drab wartime clothing London was thrilling. Woman took tickets on the omnibuses and even drove some of the taxis. Ambulances lined in front of the station awaiting their tragic cargo from the arriving trains and a banner outside Charing Cross Hospital bade “Quiet for the Wounded.” Advertisements proclaimed the virtues of Baker’s Tobacco and Perrier Water and Schweppes. I strolled down to Victoria Embankment and paused outside the Hotel Cecil. This was RFC Headquarters. I lit a cigarette and tried to form a plan. Should I simply inquire why in God’s name I’d been pulled back from France three months early? If I was not speaking with the right person, they’d show me the door and tell me not to return. I needed some better approach, so I heading up to the Strand and made for the font of all RFC knowledge, Jimmy the bartender at the Savoy Bar.

[Linked Image]
Hotel Cecil (left) and the back of the Savoy (right), view from Waterloo Bridge.

The bar was loud and welcoming, full of officers, nearly all RFC, and a captain was playing “Boiled Beef and Carrots” on the piano. I sat at the bar and asked Jimmy for a Manhattan cocktail. “Right, sir, coming up,” he replied with a smile.

“Excuse me,” I said. “Would you have any Canadian whisky by chance?”

Jimmy grinned. “I should have known it by your accent, sir. As it happens, we’ve brought some in to keep all the Canadians happy.” To my amazement, he took from the shelf a bottle of Collins Yukon Gold.

We fell into conversation and I promised him a case of whisky would be delivered directly to him for his trouble. He was unduly impressed to find a distillery owner in uniform, and such a young one. We carried on a lengthy conversation between interruptions as he flawlessly checked on his customers and filled their requests, while taking larger table orders from two waiters. The man was a miracle of drink-mixing efficiency.

“Jimmy, I need your help,” I said at last. “I’ve been recalled from France for Home Defence duty far earlier than is normal. Someone has leaned on my higher command without my wanting it and I need to know who it is. Do you know anyone that comes in here that I should speak with about this?”
He raised a finger and began to crown a serving tray with glasses of all shapes and liquor of all colours before giving a subtle nod to the passing waiter that all was ready. After several minutes he returned with another Manhattan.

“Thank you in advance for the whisky, sir.”

“My pleasure.”

“I’ll need to think a while and perhaps make some discreet inquiries before I can get an answer for you,” Jimmy said. “Are you staying in the city?” I explained I was at Hounslow, but promised to come back in a few days as soon as I could get permission.

“I’m off work Thursday, but any other day would be fine, sir.” I had not yet visited Mum and Dorothy and meant to do so at the first chance, but I would have to come back to see Jimmy first. I thanked him profusely and headed back out into the night.

Attached Files Cecil and Savoy.jpg
#4474425 - 05/17/19 01:45 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Wulfe, who the heck is leaking all this information about Gaston to the press?!
It’s time to employ the help of the Ack-Emmas and have that leaky roof repaired. How is anyone expecting the French pilots to live in conditions like this? Well, what do you know? All Fullard brothers may be reunited in France after all. Waiting for that fifth victory. C’mon James!
Carrick, they got Goonie? Oh no! That’s terrible news. Time to get some revenge!
Scout, sorry to hear about Aleck and just when things started to get interesting. An ace nonetheless. Good luck with the ‘B’ chap.
Raine, wow a Zep! That had to be some sight. I’m surprised you’re not flying in at least pairs. Probably need the firepower of at least two scouts to bring this beast down. No Le Prieurs available on the Quirks? So, dragons and white horses ... sounds like the last episode of Game of Thrones.


"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."
#4474471 - 05/17/19 02:00 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Great stories as always.

Raine: Kudos on your writing. I dont know where U find the time.

#4474489 - 05/17/19 04:29 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Fullofit]  
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Originally Posted by Fullofit
Wulfe, who the heck is leaking all this information about Gaston to the press?!


Ah, Fullofit, Gaston is the war's leading ace and the darling of France! The press want to know everything he's up to! Either that, or Esc N.31 have a very enthusiastic fan club. Probably the latter...

As Carrick said, Raine - your writing is just a joy to read. Always. Also, that picture of the Zeppelin is haunting...hats off, sir.


Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4474506 - 05/17/19 06:08 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Keith Cunard Mallory
Sgt, Rfc
29 Sqn, Ablee AF.
DH-2's
2 Kills
29.92 hrs
39 Missions.


May 17, 1916.

Hq Army must be crackers. Two missions today, both the same rail yard target at Loos Junction. 4 a/c with 3 drums of 303 hardball ammo allocated for the strike. My gun jammed on the 1st run. The second strike was better I got off all 3 drums at the shed roofs. I say, that will tech the Huns with Holes in their roofs , they will catch a chill when it rains and thats about all we did put holes in roofs.

Attached Files CFS3 2019-05-17 10-42-26-45.jpg
#4474522 - 05/17/19 11:33 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Wulfe]  
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Originally Posted by Wulfe
Ah, Fullofit, Gaston is the war's leading ace and the darling of France! The press want to know everything he's up to! Either that, or Esc N.31 have a very enthusiastic fan club. Probably the latter...


Wulfe where are all the women?
Carrick, you're not looking at the bigger picture. From holes in the roof you get leaks. From leaks in the roof Germans get the sniffles. That's just one step away from the Spanish Flu!


17 May, 1916
Senard, Verdun Sector
Escadrille N37
Capitaine Gaston A. Voscadeaux
27 confirmed kills

Gaston sat in his usual spot on the bench in front of the hangars. His wound was itching like crazy and he kept scratching it with a tip of a long twig. He knew his leg was telling him the wound was healing, but did it have to tell him all the time? It was colder today and the sun was obscured from view by large clouds.
“- It looks like it’s going to rain.” He announced while raising his head up to look at the clouds.
“-Mhumm.” Capitaine Marcel Feierstein, Escadrille’s CO, responded without paying attention or raising his gaze from the dossiers he was perusing. Even he had enough of sitting in the office and joined Gaston on the bench.
An intermittent rumble of an injured aero engine could be heard in the distance. It was getting closer. Soon, a battle damaged Nieuport began to circle the airfield trailing a plume of black smoke. The two men followed it with their eyes, wondering who it was.
“- Who went up this afternoon?” Gaston wanted to find out through the process of elimination.
“- Dagonet, Barnay, de Gueser and Tsu.”
“- Well, that doesn’t narrow it down at all.” Gaston was disappointed.
The sick machine was losing altitude by making large dips when the engine momentarily lost power. The smoke behind followed in a wave pattern. It finally reached the landing field and dropped heavily. The tailskid dug into the ground and the plane tipped ever so slightly on one wheel. This was enough to spin the entire airplane 180 degrees on the spot. It finally came to a stop after an unnatural wobble from one wheel to the other. The engine was spinning down and the smoke engulfed the entire machine. Caporal Etienne Tsu jumped out of the cockpit coughing. The smell of the smoke reached Gaston as well, irritating his throat.
“- I bet you it was this new Boche machine. What did you call it? Go Fish?”
“- No, no Gaston. A Walfisch. At least that’s what Deuxième is telling us.” Feierstein was lost in his thoughts. None of the two men were excited one bit by the extraordinary scene that has just played out in front of them. In fact, it seemed to look normal and the two paid it no more attention.
“- You know Marcel, we need new airplanes. Better than this Wolfish.”
“- Walfisch. Funny you should say that. I was speaking to OBD about this the other day.” The CO’s eyes lit up at the mention of new machines.
“- OBD?” Gaston never heard of it.
“- Yes, the Offensive Bureau of Defence. Don’t interrupt.” Marcel was irritated by Gaston’s ignorance. “They were telling me we should be receiving new airplanes in TWO WEEKS!”
“- C’est magnifique! Any idea what these new planes are like?” Gaston was excited like a schoolboy at recess.
“- No clue, but I’m willing to bet that they will be better than this Walfisch everyone is scared of.” Feierstein assured him.
“- What does it even mean, this Woolfish?” Gaston wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
“- Walfisch means Whale in German.”
“- Oh là là! Those Germans can’t even name their planes properly.” Gaston was disenchanted.
Caporal Tsu was coming over to where the two men were sitting after he finished helping to douse his Nieuport’s engine with buckets of water.
Gaston yelled to his Oriental friend. “- Hey Etienne, got a smoke?”


"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."
#4474568 - 05/18/19 01:16 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

Fullofit, I nearly spewed coffee all over my monitor while reading Gaston's latest this morning. Funny! Hope he can get back in the air soon, NOT two weeks.

Carrick, Keith is not alone in thinking that HQ is crackers when they send us out to attack rail yards and factories with .303 ammo and nothing else. You'd be better off bringing along a bunch of rocks to chuck at the buildings.

Raine, wonderful writing as always. Glad to see that James is getting some time in London while he is on Home Defense. And the mystery of who sent him there keeps getting more and more intriguing. To that zep sighting, is that not one of the great moments in WOFF! I remember the first time Artemes spotted one over London back in the last DID campaign - exciting and eerie.

Scout, very sorry to learn of the loss of the RFC's latest ace, I'm sure Aleck will be missed by his squadron mates. Looking forward to seeing who the new man will be.

Wulfe, great episodes. The letter from Jame's brother was a excellent bit of back story. And I really enjoy the intertwining of the adventures of other pilots here into your stories. And congrats on Fullard's latest victory over the Aviatik.

Lederhosen, it looks like that Nieup had Willi's number. Glad your fellow made it down in one piece.


Most enjoyable reading Gents, thanks for sharing.

.

Not much to report on Lt. Swanson. He and his G/O have been getting in as much flying time as they can on the Strutter while they continue to wait on planes and equipment. There is talk that the first flight of the new squadron will be sent across to France in a few days. But they heard the same story last week, so who knows. Ah well, Swany has been getting in some lumber-jacking around camp, felling a few offending trees and whittling them into firewood. He also made some more spending cash by using the same trick he and Jim had employed back in Canada, collecting bets on how fast he could drop a tree. The chosen target was a fairly large birch that was standing right on the edge of the field at Northolt, and it fell in three strokes under the predicted 30, and well under two minutes. Those that placed their money on our lad from Warroad were very pleased, while those that bet against him grumbled as they gave up their folding money. Swany walked away 87 pounds richer from the affair, so all-in-all that was a good day.

.

#4474584 - 05/18/19 04:17 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Originally Posted by Raine
Don't wait too long to PM me to start a new fellow, though. Promise -- No BE2s this time...


I will, regretfully, make this a true DID affair and stay 'dead' for now. With summer approaching I am too busy to fly every day, at least for now. I will keep abreast of everyone's ongoing adventures from the sidelines. If the challenge is still active in the fall I will happily jump back in.

Thanks Raine for organizing this. It was a great excuse to get back into some serious WOFF flying and was super fun. Much needed and much enjoyed!!

#4474589 - 05/18/19 05:06 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit: Ahh, now I can see the Larger Picture. The Army is engaging in " GERM " warfare thru the pilots. I say, not a tidy picture at all.

RAFLou: Unfortunately, big rocks slow down the DH-2 to a crawl However, we do have some tins of Bully Beef that fit in the hands and pockets.

Last edited by carrick58; 05/18/19 05:11 PM.
#4474594 - 05/18/19 05:26 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Keith Cunard Mallory
Sgt, Rfc
29 Sqn, Ablee AF.
DH-2's
3 Kills

On defensive Patrol this morning I forced down a One winger. We were out by Loos at the return point when we over flew a flight of Monoplanes. I chased one in and out of clouds loosing my flight. Caught up to the e/a near NML across from Lens, In a series of passes I shot off 3 drums and his motor stopped. Upon landing, I had the ADJ call around and the 17th Chasseur, a recon unit of the 11th Battalion. 3rd Army said that a lone Hun plane came down in no mans land during a Arty Barrage just small parts were left about.

Attached Files CFS3 2019-05-18 09-38-27-71.jpgCFS3 2019-05-18 09-41-41-23.jpgCFS3 2019-05-18 09-45-00-87.jpg
#4474668 - 05/19/19 10:49 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Lou, make sure Swany knows he can only do the tree-felling trick once per country, or they’ll catch on. He has one more chance in France to make more money. Can’t wait to see him back in action and giving Germans the chop.
Carrick, congrats on a hard earned victory. Keep ‘em coming.


"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."
#4474695 - 05/19/19 02:54 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Carrick, looks like Keith had a good morning. Well done.

Fullofit, don't forget about Belgium, they have trees and fools with money there as well. Or Germany, should Swany happen to end up as a guest of the Kaiser, (God forbid). Oh, and Switzerland! Well, that one might be a stretch.

.

#4474701 - 05/19/19 03:33 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Lou, if we’re stretching it, then there’s the East Front. I hope Swany takes Rubles. Let’s not forget Africa or the Middle East. He could go into oil business after war. I’ll skip the Ottoman Empire, it doesn’t look like there are too many opportunities to make money 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."
#4474705 - 05/19/19 04:08 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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He might have to take lira too if he gets sent to the Italian Front. He's never had to chop down an olive tree, I hear they can be oily, not to mention extra virgin.

.

#4474706 - 05/19/19 04:14 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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That is only if Swany can keep his hands off the Italian extra oily virgins.


"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."
#4474709 - 05/19/19 04:32 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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L'Etoile du Nord
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Well, the Vikings couldn't, so no guarantees there.

.

#4474716 - 05/19/19 05:15 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Exactly, why can’t the war be about who gets the girl, instead of ... what are we fighting for again?


"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."
#4474717 - 05/19/19 05:18 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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RAF_Louvert Offline
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L'Etoile du Nord
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longer lunch breaks

.

#4474719 - 05/19/19 05:24 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Ooo, I like that! Can you also throw in free breast implants? For the extra oily virgins?


"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."
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