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#4487095 - 08/22/19 04:37 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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HarryH Offline
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Thank you Lou! I'll try to keep him alive but my track record in DiD is not that great whenpigsfly

Carrick: Italian terrorists??!

Fullofit: that would be a little harsh, since the EIII is already the slowest plane in WOFF smile Maybe Lazlo will lose some weight (or maybe not). Now you've give JJJ an idea for the ME it looks like... smile


I'm "Stutter Free" At Last! God bless WOFF, and all who fly with her!
#4487100 - 08/22/19 05:25 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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HarryH Offline
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Feldwebel Lazlo Halász,
KeK Nord, Bertincourt, France
August 21st 1916

"Mein Gott im himmel!", exclaimed Von Keudell, staring intently out of the officer's mess window into the fading evening light. "It's like something out of a Hans Christian Andersen tale!",

"Your favourite author", quipped Leffers, getting up from his armchair to take a look. "Oh my goodness, he must be at least 2 metres tall. Probably weighs all of 140Kgs! Who the devil is he?",

"Well, they said we had a new fellow coming in today. He was supposed to be here already. Croatian chap, supposedly comes with an interesting background, flying 2-seater sea planes over the adriatic". The two pilots watched as Lazlo made his way over to the office. He had to duck his head to be able to get inside. Leffers punched his friend's arm playfully and made his way back to the armchair.

"I think this fellow's going to provide us with some fun!". He sat down and reopened his newspaper.

Lazlo was trying to explain his reasons for being so late to report and was getting a little flustered in the process. The duty officer wasn't making things any easier for him.

"Your German is terrible! Your accent is so difficult to understand. And how did you ever manage to get so big?"

"God decides on these things", replied Lazlo thoughtfully. "I am what I am. How did he make you so small?".

"Are you trying to be funny with me?", snapped the man, thrusting some papers at Lazlo. "Sit over there and fill those out for me". His accent was bad but his reading and writing in German was even worse. Thirty minutes later he handed back the partially completed forms. The duty officer scanned them quickly, muttered under his breath and placed them in his "to do" pile. "Go on then, get over to the mess and introduce yourself. Your quarters are hut D. You are sharing with Breuer. You'll fly an EIII.....IF you can fit into it!". Lazlo left the office and crossed the field in the direction the duty officer has pointed to. The door opened before he could reach for the handle.

"Greetings, welcome to Kek Nord!". Von Keudell offered his hand and stared up at Lazlo, who towered above him, even from the lower step of the mess. Lazlo's firm grip completely engulfed the pilot's hand. "Hey, steady on, that's my stick hand!", the pilot yelped.

"Oh, please forgive me. It was not my intention to hurt you!" Lazlo looked crestfallen. He was intensely aware of the need to build friendships with these men. Not a good start. "People say I don't know my own strength", he offered.

"I'll bet they do", replied Von Keudell, standing aside to let Lazlo enter and shaking his hand from the pain. Lazlo stepped inside, straighted himslef and removed his hat to reveal a mass of unkempt orange. A series of astonished murmurs went around the mess.

"Der Grosse Rot Reise!", someone whispered in awe. The name stuck immediately. Someone else called out,

"Hey, Big Red, come in and sit down, but don't break the furniture!" That set all the men off laughing and Lazlo smiled, relaxing slightly. He found himself a place to sit and spent the next two hours telling stories of his war adventures thus far. After far too many drinks and with a little help from his room mate, Lazlo found his way to hut D.

"You'd better take the bottom bunk, I suppose. I'll switch", said Breuer. "I don't want you crashing down on me in the middle of the night!"

Lazlo fell almost immediately asleep, too tired to even brush his teeth.


To be continued......

Last edited by HarryH; 08/22/19 05:26 PM.

I'm "Stutter Free" At Last! God bless WOFF, and all who fly with her!
#4487114 - 08/22/19 07:05 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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That, sir, is a masterclass in introducing a character. Already I've got a vivid picture of Big Red. I like Lazlo already!

Last edited by Wulfe; 08/22/19 07:06 PM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4487119 - 08/22/19 07:37 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Raine Offline
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I have just returned from camping with my friend and business partner for a couple of days at Fundy National Park. Really roughing it -- steaks, ribs, wine, beer, miscellaneous goodies. Lou's frozen lumberjack would be proud of me!

MFair, it looks like James is off to a great start with the Navy types. And Harry, I absolutely love Lazlo, the Gentle Giant.

Lou, welcome back. You've been missed. Swaney seems to have been keeping up the fight, despite a couple of close calls. Your poem reminded me of this Canadian favourite...


#4487123 - 08/22/19 08:05 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Wulfe]  
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Originally Posted by Wulfe
That, sir, is a masterclass in introducing a character. Already I've got a vivid picture of Big Red. I like Lazlo already!


You are too kind, sir. I'm pleased you like him smile


I'm "Stutter Free" At Last! God bless WOFF, and all who fly with her!
#4487125 - 08/22/19 08:07 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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HarryH Offline
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Originally Posted by Raine
I have just returned from camping with my friend and business partner for a couple of days at Fundy National Park. Really roughing it -- steaks, ribs, wine, beer, miscellaneous goodies. Lou's frozen lumberjack would be proud of me!

MFair, it looks like James is off to a great start with the Navy types. And Harry, I absolutely love Lazlo, the Gentle Giant.

Lou, welcome back. You've been missed. Swaney seems to have been keeping up the fight, despite a couple of close calls. Your poem reminded me of this Canadian favourite...



Sounds like the perfect trip!! Glad you like Lazlo. I hope he lasts, he should be fun.


I'm "Stutter Free" At Last! God bless WOFF, and all who fly with her!
#4487145 - 08/22/19 11:39 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: RAF_Louvert]  
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Originally Posted by RAF_Louvert
Fullofit, thanks, glad you enjoyed it. I wrote it up in about 2 1/2 hours over the course of a couple of early mornings with a portion of that time spent checking some historical facts. So when are we going to hear if Chesty's last three claims were approved or not? You must keep us abreast of his progress.


Lou, 2.5 hrs? That's fantastic. It takes me that long to come up with a title (that's why I don't do 'em) And you are a dirty, dirty man!

Harry, excellent installment. Let them fear the man, not mock him. I guess he will have to win them over with his skills in the air, yes?

Raine, thanks for that. I had it surgically removed from my brain long time ago. Now it's back.


17 August, 1916
Luxeuil, Alsace Sector
3 Wing RNAS
FSL Tobias Chester Mulberry
3 confirmed kills
Awaiting 1 claim confirmation

The mess hall was very loud. It was the sound of excitement created by the allure of winning the odds and the disappointment of a sudden loss in a game of chance. The noise was coming from the table in the corner lit by a solitary lamp hanging above it and casting long shadows through thick clouds of tobacco smoke. The familiar redolence of alcohol was hanging in the air to keep the lamp company.
“- No way! Three more anchors. That’s twice in a row. These dice are loaded!” Art Whealy was highly suspicious of Ray’s good fortune.
“- The only thing that’s loaded is you, Art.” Raymond Collishaw retorted, defending his honour. “- You’re blotto and you can’t see straight anymore, not to mention that you can’t even count.”
“- An Officer never gets drunk.” Art’s speech was slurred. “- And as for counting, I can count on this fine Gentleman over here.” He slapped Tobias on the back.
“- You know what he did this morning?” Whealy was now embracing Toby with both arms around his torso and rocking him from side to side. Mulberry tried to free himself, but the bear hug was too strong to get out of. He remained trapped in Whealy’s clutches, squirming to try and place his bets.
“- Okay, no more bets!” Yelled John Page. “- I’m rolling the dice!”
Whealy continued: “- We were over Colmar. You know that factory south of the city? We’ve just made our delivery of the fresh forty-pounders and were in the process of forming up, when all of a sudden this gaggle of Huns appears out of nowhere. Page broke right, I left and Toby over there didn’t even catch up to us yet. They zoomed by us and soon everyone was being chased by these Germanic Devils. I caught the green one on my tail and we went round and round in circles. I don’t even know what happened to Page and Mulberry tangled with another Hun. I could see he almost had him when one more attacked us from behind.” Whealy took another enormous gulp of his pint. He followed it up with a prolonged wipe with his backhand and the edge of the sleeve.
Page wasn’t paying attention. The dice rolled and came to a stop near the edge of the table. Collishaw made a triumphant whoop while jeers came from two other, less fortunate pilots.
“- A crown and two spades!” Yelled Page. “- Pay up!”
Whealy continued his story: “- The bloody green Fokker was gaining on me and my gun layer had a terrible gun jam. I was in trouble!”
“- What happened to Mulberry and the Eindecker that was about to attack him from behind?” Ray reminded Art where he left off.
“- Didn’t I explain it already? He let go the monoplane he was chasing and turned into his attacker just in time to avoid his fire. Pay attention Collie, eh!” The beer finally hit the spot and Whealy let out a loud burp. “- Ahh, that did the trick. He then parked his Strutter on the Hun’s tail and proceeded to make a sieve out of it. The poor Hun didn’t know where to run. He finally tried to stand his Fokker on its tail, but Toby had him in his sights and peppered him good. It looked like the Eindecker tucked its tail between its legs and fell out of control. It was a long way down. We were at 9,000 feet. I lost him near the ground, but I’m certain he didn’t make it. This is when Toby came to my rescue.” Art tightened his grip on poor Mulberry. “- He was back in action and chasing my Hun. I remember at one point we came so close to each other I had to dodge out of the way. That would have been a nasty collision.” He made a sour face after that recollection.
“- What happened next? Did you get that Hun?” Ray was now intrigued.
“- I dunno. As soon as the Boche got off my tail I flew straight for home. Toby, finish the story.” He gave the macerated youth another shake.
“- I will, but you have to let me go. I can hardly breathe!” It was Toby’s last chance to escape Art’s clutches. Whealy obliged and Mulberry instantly moved out of Arthur’s reach. He took a deep breath and his chest swelled back up to its normal size. Toby took a swig from Art’s pint and continued the story: “- After Art had left, thanks for that by the way!” He gave Whealy a skunk eye, but the Canadian simply shrugged and smiled. “- We were left alone, just him and I. We continued to circle each other and at the end he cut across under my nose, nearly colliding in the process and then disappeared. I could only see Art fading in the distance. I wasn’t about to go deeper into the Hun-land looking for him. The only thing I could do was turn around and return home. That was pretty much it.” Toby concluded.
“- No wonder they call you the Killer. How many does it make now, 4?” Ray started to count them down. “- The one on your first sortie, then the two Fokkers from a few days ago and now this one. That makes it four, right?”
“- Nah, just three. I’m still waiting for this last one to be confirmed.” Toby corrected Raymond.
“Enough of this chitchat, who’s turn is it?” Page was getting impatient.



"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."
#4487165 - 08/23/19 03:13 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Wonderful dialog, Fullofit. Felt like I was there with Collishaw et al! Fine video as always.


I'm "Stutter Free" At Last! God bless WOFF, and all who fly with her!
#4487193 - 08/23/19 11:31 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Toby needs to have a word with his gunner... how many times did that Fokker fly past after several head ons, giving him a clear unobstructed shot!
He needs to stop picking his nose in flight and pay a bit more attention...

#4487201 - 08/23/19 01:05 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

Harry, I am already fully invested in this Lazlo character, wonderful stuff. Keep it coming!

Raine, thanks, it's good to be back. And I've been a fan of the McGarrigle sisters for years so I am very familiar with that classic. Thanks for sharing it.

Fullofit, a fun vignette there, thoroughly enjoyable. Super video too. And I'm with Trooper, your gunner needs to be taken out behind the woodshed and have things explained to him. Also, I am not dirty, I shower every day.

.

23 August 1916


Captain Swanson was up and dressed very early, enjoying a cup of ginger tea before getting in a jog around the south field at Fienvillers. Truth be told it would be more of a limp than a jog, given the fact that his left calf was still recovering. But he was determined to work it back to full strength and shed himself of the cane. With the smell of peppermint in the air he started out on his run, the dull ache in his head intensified almost immediately thereafter. However, it was nothing like it had been yesterday morning, it was crippling then and his own damned fault.

The binge on the night of the 21st had been fun at the time, and the alcohol in its many forms had helped him forget about his headache temporarily. But he had the devil and all the minions of Hell to pay the following morning. Even after dissolving three packets of Sitruc's powder in his morning cuppa' and gulping it down it did little more than scrape the smallest edge off. It took everything he had in him to dress, climb up into the cockpit of the Strutter, and lead 'A' Flight on a morning patrol over Old Mossy Face. Thank God there had been no enemy planes about. Just guiding his mount there and back had been a Herculean task. The one plus to the outing was the fact that the cold air up at 9'000 feet made his head feel somewhat better, almost tolerable. Enough so that he loitered above Fienvillers for an additional fifteen minutes before landing. His G/O did not ask why, the fellow knew full well the reason. After he was back on the ground Swany, still in his flying gear, trudged over to the irrigation canal that ran along the southwest edge of the field and laid down next to it, dropping his right hand into the water. He lay that way for a minute or two before undoing his flying scarf and dunking it into the cool, rippling stream. He then balled up the now-drenched cloth and plopped it on his forehead, feeling the wet coolness run past his ears, across his face, through his hair, and pooling behind his neck. When the makeshift compress lost its soothing goodness he removed it, dunked it back into the water and returned it to his head. He repeated this ceremony for the next hour, moving nothing save his right arm, and likely would have laid there the rest of the morning doing so had it not been for the soft, elderly voice that called out to him.

"Monsieur,are you alright?"

Swany was startled by the unexpected visitor and sat up suddenly, wincing from the pain that throbbed in his head as he did so. An old women with a basket in her left hand and a pruning scissors in her right was standing not five feet from him. Captain Swanson slowly got to his feet as he responded politely, "Sorry Madam, yes, I ah - I am fine, thank you."

The women, who had been gathering rose-hips from the wild bushes that dotted the edges of the narrow canal, gave the young pilot a concerned look. She could see quite clearly that he was in pain and asked, "You have the headache, Monsieur?"

Swany gave a weak smile as he slipped off his flying coat in order to retrieve a comb from inside his tunic pocket. He ran it through his mussy, wet hair in an effort to make himself a bit more presentable. "Yes Madam, I'm afraid I do. Was shot here back in July and have been suffering with them ever since." As he spoke he motioned with the end of his comb to the spot just above his right ear where the Hun bullet had bounced off his skull.

"Ah, I see", the elderly women responded in a knowing tone. "My husband, he had the headaches too, many years ago, after a mule kicked him. But I started him on ginger tea and peppermint oil and that took care of it. I wasn't about to have him laying about all the time."

The Captain looked at her quizzically. "Ginger tea and peppermint oil? And that helps?"

"Oh yes", she assured. "Fresh ginger is best, but powder will do if that's all you have. And the peppermint oil is for your temples."

Swany listened intently as the aging matron explained how he should prepare the tea, and how he should massage several drops of peppermint oil into his temples at least twice a day. Further, he should drink a glass of water every two hours, and limit himself to one glass of wine a day until the headaches were gone. And exercise, lots of exercise. If he would follow this regimen she assured him his headaches would subside in a few weeks. Captain Swanson thanked the kind women for her sage advice and offered her a few francs which she flatly refused.

"I do not take charity Monsieur, but if you would like to buy some of the wonderful syrup I will be making from these rose-hips I wouldn't say no. Besides, it would be good for you as well, in particular if you are not getting much fresh fruit."

Swany laughed as he took the old woman's wrinkled, calloused hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, being careful to avoid the scissors she was still clutching. "I thank you sincerely Madame and will most certainly come by and purchase some. Just let me know when and where."

After providing the requested locale and date the woman continued on with her gathering while Swany headed back to camp and went on his own quest for the ginger and peppermint oil. While his head still pounded, his hopes of relief were at least bolstered.

.

#4487220 - 08/23/19 03:12 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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HarryH Offline
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Herbal remedies. Just the ticket for Swany smile

Feldwebel Lazlo Halász,
KeK Nord, Bertincourt, France
August 22nd 1916

Leffers and Von Keudell stood by the hangars gazing out at the line of craft being readied for action. The former was dressed in his flying suit, the latter was taking the day off. He planned to indulge in a spot of fishing later, since the weather promised a warm day.

"This should be interesting", Von Kuedell nudged Leffers in the ribs. "Do you think he'll manage to get into the thing?". Out on the field two mechanics were bending and locking their hands together to form a human step lift. Lazlo towered over both of them, his hands resting on their shoulders for support, as he prepared to climb up to the cockpit. As soon as he attempted to do so, the two mechanics collapsed to the ground, unable to take the weight of the man for more than just a few seconds. Lazlo, apologizing profusely, hauled each of them back to their feet in one swift motion. The two pilots at the edge of the field marveled at the strength of the giant man. Von Kuedell turned and headed into the hangar behind him.

"This requires a better solution". He marched back out again a few moments later with a long step ladder balanced on his shoulder and headed over to the Eindecker where the three men were stood, scratching their heads and wondering what to do next. "Here! Try this!", Von Keudell called out. Together they set the ladder up next to the machine. Lazlo tentatively mounted the first few rungs while the mechanics and Von Keudell did their best to steady it. Lazlo went a few rungs higher and reached out toward the plane's cockpit. As he did so, the ladder buckled underneath him and he was pitched head first toward the fuselage. Somehow he managed to hang on and was able to scramble forward and swing his legs down into the body of the machine. Once seated, Lazlo found that there was precious little room for him. His girth wasn't the problem. It was the length of his body and legs that were. Getting his feet onto the rudder plates entailed having his knees bent at an extremely uncomfortable angle, and there was hardly any room to move the stick. However, he was finally ready for his first flight with schwarm zwei. Breuer waved to him cheerfully from the Eindecker next to Lazlo, trying to encourage him. Von Keudell had already retreated back to the hangar to wish Leffers good luck, and from there he watched as, one by one, the craft took to the air. First it was Leffers in his Halberstadt. Lazlo's EIII lumbered over the grass and eventually the nose lifted and he began his ascent. Satisfied, Von Keudell turned toward his hut to fetch his fishing pole.

Lazlo gazed at the glorious countryside spreading out all around him. He was managing to stay in formation quite well but his knees were already aching from their cramped position and his shoulders hurt from being overly tensed up. Nevertheless, he was very content, a smile stretched across his broad face. Then he began singing to himself, a deep baritone humming of old folk tunes from home.

The mission took them up to their side of the lines. Lazlo felt his stomach tighten at the prospect of being near no man's land and he kept a keen eye out for unwanted visitors. He had an alarming moment when, upon hearing the sound of a concentrated barrage of shells from below, he leaned over the fuselage to try to see the bursts. The whole craft tipped sideways, causing Lazlo to momentarily panic, until he was able to correct things with some opposite rudder application. It was a finicky beast to fly but gradually Lazlo got the hang of it.

After ninety minutes or so, they headed back to Bertincourt. Lazlo tried to make a mental note of the various landmarks near their home field. His landing was not perfect, but acceptable. The mechanics were there to greet him and once again the ladder was set up for him. Lazlo found it a little easier getting down for some reason. Probably gravity related. Despite a brief wobble, the ladder held firm as he descended to the ground. With great relief, Lazlo gave each mechanic a bear hug in thanks. It was comical to watch due to their disparity in size.

That evening, Lazlo pondered way in which he might have his EIII adapted. He had some ideas and resolved to discuss with his new mechanic friends the following day. First flight under his belt, this time Lazlo did have the energy to brush his teeth before turning in for the night.

To be continued......


I'm "Stutter Free" At Last! God bless WOFF, and all who fly with her!
#4487254 - 08/23/19 07:00 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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lederhosen Offline
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KEK Nord
Aug.23 1916
Ltn.Willi Rosenstein

Another combat and probable victory for Willi yesterday, this time against 2x N16's.
Upon landing Willi was ordered to get cleaned up take the Benz over to the next depo. His was to return with a new aircraft fresh from the assembly lines at Albatros Werk.
Willi tried to hide his smile but couldn't.

Attached Files CFS3 2019-08-23 19-47-53-45.jpgCFS3 2019-08-23 19-51-19-16.jpgCFS3 2019-08-23 19-56-44-99.jpgCFS3 2019-08-23 19-57-55-74.jpgCFS3 2019-08-23 20-39-11-00.jpgCFS3 2019-08-23 20-39-36-34.jpg
Last edited by lederhosen; 08/23/19 07:02 PM.

make mistakes and learn from them

I5 4440 3.1Ghz, Asrock B85m Pro3, Gtx 1060 3GB
#4487273 - 08/23/19 09:12 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Keith Cunard Mallory
2nd LT, Rfc
29 Sqn, Ablee AF.
DH-2's
4 Kills
Aug 23, 1916

I went up with B flight on a defensive patrol and we ran into a flight of Monoplanes a lot of chasing each other but no score on each side.

Attached Files CFS3 2019-08-23 13-55-13-52.jpgCFS3 2019-08-23 13-54-48-43.jpg
#4487348 - 08/24/19 04:17 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Gentlemen, there is nothing wrong with Toby’s gun layer. In fact he did a splendid job of not hitting the tail and the wings of their Strutter.
Lou, I’ve heard the Germans have this wonder drug for headaches. It’s called Aspirin. It doesn’t sound German, but it works. Swany May want to try raiding one of the Hun forward dressing stations.
Harry, Lazlo needs to think ahead of things like egress well ahead of the mission. Perhaps a stool would make the mounting and dismounting more graceful and easier on the mechanics. And yes, buy your mechanics a case of Schnapps to modify the rudder pedal location. On the other hand, this sudden Eindecker instability due to weight shift could be useful during combat. Score one for Lazlo.
Lederhosen, why would Willi try to hide his smile? He’s driving the best scout around. No need to hide. Congrats on the new ride.
Carrick, as you can see Willi is now flying the Albatros and so are many more Huns. Time of easy kill is over. Be careful.
I will have to postpone the reports until this YouTube issue is resolved. Anybody know what’s up 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."
#4487380 - 08/24/19 09:34 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Albatross ?

Attached Files MF17-STILL-Albatross2.jpg
#4487381 - 08/24/19 09:53 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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#4487385 - 08/24/19 10:38 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Lou, you have been sorely missed Sir! One of the best meals I ever had was fry bread with honey and homemade Rose hip jelly. I almost foundered. Great story.

Carrick, steady as she goes. Watch this two seaters.

Harry, I really like Lazlo. Looking forward to his exploits.

Raine, I just wish I was invited!

Fullofit, Tobias is doing well, sounded like a first class binge.

Lederhosen, oh no, the Albs are out already!

James Cameron.
Aug. 20, 1916
The last two days had been uneventful flights but beautiful flying weather. Today! Five machines were to guard one our four Strutters on a bombing mission to Loo’s Junction. The flight had been attacked by 2 monoplanes near Lens. James had sent one down which crashed into a building but 2 of the flight were wounded and the Strutters was shot down killing both the pilot and observer. On top of all James’s claim was rejected. It was not a good day.

Aug. 21
Three of us were to destroy the balloon east of Dicksmunde. About halfway over the mud James saw Harlow, his Irish friend pull up and dive. At first James thought the man was daft when a monoplane passed directly overhead. James pulled up and reversed directions. He and Capt. Gally tag teamed the Fokker. One behind James fired a burst and the Hun flipped over and went straight down. He looked to port and there was Gally not 20 meters away. He saw Harlow headed home and checked the sky. Empty. “Where had Gally gone” he thought. The target balloon was in sight a mile away so he went to it fired his rockets. Nothing. Turning about he made a pass with the Lewis and sent it down in flames. James turned for home and spotted Gally in his Pup below headed in the same direction. Back at base Gally said he did not see James send down the Fokker nor hit the balloon. James was livid but knew better than to make a stink in front of the Commander. Gally walked by James and made a comment about the amount of “claims” he was racking up. James looked the Capt. in the eye and said “One day...Sir....I feel you and I will have a serious disagreement” to add insult to injury, his frien Harlow had been wounded and carted off to a clearing station.

Aug. 22.
The morning mission was a walk in the park patrolling friendly territory. That afternoon was to be another, south toward Abeele. Southwest of Droglandt, Flight Commander Keeble’s Pup dropped nose over like a stone and the other two Pup’s followed. James put his fragile Nieuport in a dive but could not keep up with them fearing he would tear the wings off. Ahead, the trio leveled out at about 300m and then James saw the trio of monoplanes just above the tree tops ahead. By the time he arrived the fight was on. He dove on a Fokker coming in behind him and let off 3 bursts. The pilot slumped over in the cockpit and went into the ground. James pulled up to starboard and saw another Fokker a little below. He hit jerked the stick over and hard rudder slipping the Nieuport in behind him and soon had the engine pouring black smoke when it to went into the ground. Pulling up he could see two columns of black smoke not 50 yards apart. As it happens all he could see was one Pup headed home in the distance. Landing back at St. Pol he was greeted by FC Keeble. “Mr. Cameron! That was as fine an exhibition of flying as I’ve ever seen! Splendid, just splendid!” Lt. Grange another of the flight joined in with the accolades. Both were confirmed in short order.

Aug. 23.
James and Keeble were to patrol friendly territory again at 0700. Returning home Keeble abruptly turned east and James followed. James finally saw the two seater the Flight Commander was chasing about a mile distance. During the chase James was shocked to see another Aviatikbehimd to port. He turned to make a head on pass. He missed on the pass but came up on his stern and below. The big machine filled his windscreen when he opened fire. On his 4th long burst the Hun exploded into pieces. James scrunched down in the cockpit and closed his eyes. H
When he opened them up he was shocked he was still alive. Keeble came up beside him with a thumbs up fist. Together they flew home. Nearing St. Pol James’s engine gave out and he landed on a nearby road. It was not long before Keeble came by with the Lorry to fetch the victorious pilot. They attacked Ghistelles in the afternoon but to no effect.

At mess in the evening the squadrons newest Ace was roundly toasted by everyone, even Gally who was across the table. James could see he did not like like the turn of events. “You have four am I not right Captain?” James asked. “That’s right Mr. Cameron. What of it?”
James took a sip of his drink. “Oh, nothing Sir. Just wanted to make sure I was correct.”


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!
#4487388 - 08/24/19 10:48 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2018
Posts: 276
Wulfe Offline
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Wulfe  Offline
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Adj. James B. Fullard,
Esc N.124 'Americaine',
Bar-le-Duc, France.

August 24th, 1916:


On August 16th, as we had been lounging around in deck-chairs in front of the Bessouneaux, a convoy of trucks pulled into Behonne aerodrome, forming a neat line in the centre of the grass. We watched with keen interest as from the cab of each truck came two horizon-blue figures, and from the lead vehicle appeared a man in a tired grey suit and thick-rimmed glasses. As our intrigue grew, we watched as several large crates were loaded down from the machines and onto the aerodrome. “New planes!” Rumsey ventured. “I hope they’re 11s,” Luf replied, and we all murmured in agreement. Our suspicions were confirmed as a large box was opened to reveal an upper wing, unpainted and shining in bright silver. McConnell passed out cigarettes as we enjoyed the display of the first machine appearing, piece by piece, and being assembled on the grass. As it stood before us and the crates were cleared away, I squinted my eyes in confusion. “That’s not an 11 or a 16!” I cried. “Sacre, you’re right!” came Luf’s voice, and we now excitedly rose to our feet and rushed over to inspect this new machine.

As we approached, we were intercepted by the man in the grey suit. He was a representative of the Nieuport form, and from him we learned that the new type had been christened the Nieuport 17. Admittedly, we were slightly dubious at the man’s claims that it was both as agile as the Nieuport 11 and as fast as the Nieuport 16 - that is, until, he asked who would be first to test the machine. We elected Luf for the job, and the machine was quickly fueled. Rumsey ran off to fetch Luf his combination suit, and McConnell and I quickly helped him into it. We practically dragged a mechanic over to swing the prop, and with one final dubious look Luf shot off into the air.

What followed next was a marvellous display of stunting from our friend. He started first in a climbing spiral, stalling at the top and winging over into a sharp nosedive, pulling up just above the treeline. He then climbed up around the Eastern side of the airfield and performed several loops. On his last, he hung upside-down before allowing his aircraft into an inverted spin. We all gasped as his aircraft fell down for a second or two, but we promptly watched the rudder flick to the side and the aircraft neatly turn out of the spin. Finally, Luf climbed into another stall, standing the Nieuport on its tail, before slipping to the side and, in one fluid sweep, coming in to land.

Immediately we rushed to his side. “Well? Well? What’s it like?” Prince asked, barely able to contain his excitement. A broad grin appeared under Luf’s flying goggles. “It’s as he says. She is magnificent”.

In total, 5 Nieuport 17s were delivered that day, and the mechanics quickly set about readying them for combat flying. Luf inherited the ‘test’ machine, naturally. The next day, 5 more machines arrived. The Nieuport representative handed a clipboard to Thenault. “That’s the last of them! If you just sign this to confirm delivery, I can be out of your way, Capitane”. Thenault blinked in surprise. “The last of them? There are only 10 machines! We have 12 pilots!”. Frowning, the Nieuport representative looked down at his clipboard. “This order only has 10 airframe numbers. But, not to worry. I guarantee you that we shall send your missing machines as soon as we are able”. Thenault let out a quiet “Hmm,” before signing the papers.

That night, Thenault declared that we would draw straws to see who would receive the last 5 machines. Paul Pavelka, a recent arrival, went first, and then one-by-one we drew. I felt my heart sink as I pulled out the shortest straw I had seen yet. By the end of it, Blanchon and I were the unlucky two. Hell with it. Stuck with that damned 16, still!.


On the morning of the 20th I had a very nasty shock. I was leading the patrol into Enemy lines, and we had seen hide nor hair of the Bosche since crossing over. Suddenly, my wingmen became very agitated, but for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why. Suddenly, off my left wing, I realised there were two Aviatiks, flying practically in formation with us! Immediately I ordered the attack, and at once we curved into the side of the Aviatik formation. Johnson and I fired a simultaneous burst at the leading aircraft and it fell into a spin. We then busied ourselves with hunting the other down. Above our heads, two more Aviatiks dropped down from a cloud. It was a gift! As johnson and I stayed on our Bosche, the rest of the flight quickly snapped up the second unfortunate pair of Germans. It had been a fantastic start to the day! Four Bosches downed! Sadly, none of our victories could be confirmed, as they were scored far behind the German lines.

Four days later, on the 24th, we had a go-around with some Fokkers. In the scrap, Blanchon managed to send one down out of control. I watched as the Bosche spun all the way to the ground. "Wait until I have a Nieuport 17!" he cried out later that evening, "Then I shall be the next ace-of-aces!". I sighed, and clapped him on the shoulder. "I don't think we'll be getting our 17s anytime soon, Blanchon. Here's hoping, though".

Last edited by Wulfe; 08/25/19 09:37 AM.

Aircraft Profiles of the Deep Immersion DiD Campaign: http://simhq.com/forum/ubbthreads.p...deep-immersion-did-challenge#Post4468813
#4487403 - 08/25/19 03:14 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
Posts: 5,072
carrick58 Offline
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carrick58  Offline
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Joined: Aug 2010
Posts: 5,072
Keith Cunard Mallory
2nd LT, Rfc
29 Sqn, Ablee AF.
DH-2's
4 Kills

Late afternoon Aug 24th


A low level Spy machine was spotted flying by the Aerodrome. Italians ?

https://giphy.com/gifs/great-race-prof-ftae-dsv27OkKL0EWTakCo4/fullscreen

Last edited by carrick58; 08/25/19 03:15 AM.
#4487434 - 08/25/19 10:41 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
Posts: 3,464
RAF_Louvert Offline
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
RAF_Louvert  Offline
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Senior Member

Joined: May 2012
Posts: 3,464
L'Etoile du Nord
.

Harry, sometimes those herbal remedies just may be the best. Glad Lazlo was able to manage his way in and out of the Eindecker, however he will want to keep in mind that whole center of gravity issue if he does have his mount altered to fit his plus-size frame.

Lederhosen, a brand new Albatros for Willi, eh? He is a lucky flieger indeed.

Fullofit, the headache powder that Swany has been taking since he left hospital is primarily aspirin, with some caffine added. It has proved a less than effective cure, wonder drug that it may be.

MFair, thanks, glad you enjoyed the episode. And fry bread with just about any kind of jelly or jam - yum.
It looks like Captain Cameron has found the little Nieuport to his liking. Well done on his newly earned ace status! So what is the man's actual total at this point, more than five?

Wulfe, tough luck for Fullard, missing out on one of the new 17s is the short straw to be sure. His luck didn't improve on those claims either. Some days the gods are just hell-bent on conspiring against a fellow.

Carrick, I was thinking they looked more like Russians.

.

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