Beautifully written, Lou. A great vignette!

Danke Lou

Willi had to pick up a new Alb, from some Film set . Beleave the movie is called "Brown Baron"

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Achtung!



It is the Kaiser's Royal and Imperial command that the following individual be recognized for his valor:



Citation to the award reads as follows:

Leutnant der Reserve Willi Aaron Rosenstein has demonstrated cool courage and resolve in air combat, having emerged as victor over his foes in twenty-three combats to date. His leadership and fine example uphold the highest traditions of the Imperial armed forces. He is an inspiration to his followers and a terror to the enemy.


You make the Vaterland most proud.

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Attention!



His Majesty King George V hereby confers the following honour:



A grateful people thank you for your service and loyalty.

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yessss, the blue one.

Lederhosen: Great skin

Keith Cunard Mallory
2nd LT, Rfc
29 Sqn, Ablee AF.
DH-2's
4 Kills


Aug 27 1916.


Morning Patrol. No Contact

Afternoon Escort: Protected an Fe from 2 e/a attacking from below near the lines by Loos. What a circus we were doing a figure 8 plus turns one a/c behind the other. Finally, a Hun machine went down
then a DH-2 then my wingman got the one on my tail. I couldnt hit a sausage fired off a full drum load no hits . Score 2 e/a for 1 B flight member

My old Sqn Ldr would often say to me... ''You young Troop, are quite hopeless... in fact, you could not hit a cow in the arse with a banjo, go and tell the Doc your inter ocular setting needs some adjustment!''

Wow, so many great stories from everyone! Suddenly the campaign is very active again. Apologies for Lazlo's absence, He suddenly realized last week that his hard drive was getting perilously close to being full. Had a bit of a delay while he waited for a new drive to arrive, then had a few challenges getting a mirrored copy of the old drive to work properly, but he managed eventually. No, wait, that was me. Lazlo's had some hardware changes too, though....

Feldwebel Lazlo Halász,

Jasta 1, Bertincourt, France
August 25th 1916

The dilema of the restricted cockpit was solved simply enough by the arrival of new machines. This coincided with the official renaming on the unit to Jasta 1, The great Oswald Boelke himself had visited them to celebrate the occasion and had shaken hands warmly with Lazlo, admiring the sheer size of the man and wishing him every success with the unit. His new machine was an improved version of the Eindecker, the EIV model. The cockpit was considerably wider and the fuselage allowed Lazlo more room to stretch out. This was also aided by a modification performed by the mechanics team, who were able to move the rudder pedal assembly further forward toward the nose of the plane, providing a crucial difference in leg room. Now the problem of ingress and egress was significantly diminished. Lazlo still needed the stepladder, but he had almost mastered it, being much less prone to wobbling about at the top.

The past few days provided weather that had been perfect for flying. Their morning sorties were often departing before dawn, when the dew still blanketed the field and the stars were still visible in the dark blue sky. The sunrises were magnificent. Lazlo found the new EIV easier to control than his old machine and he was able to fully enjoy the delights of these early morning missions. The enemy had been quiet for the past week, which gave all the men a chance to relax and unwind a little, even the tense ones. One evening in the mess, Lazlo had surprised his fellow pilots by bursting into song. His deep, sonorous bass voice had boomed through the room, rattling the ornaments on the mantelpiece and causing dust to fall from the rafters. "Big Red" was a firm favorite in the Jasta, and friendly with the mechanics, too. He was always grinning and was ready to offer one of his all enveloping bear hugs at any time, except most of the men tried to avoid those for fear of being inadvertently crushed. Lazlo didn't mind, he was just happy to be there. He hadn't thought too much about the actual business of war until one evening in his hut, Breuer turned to him and asked if he'd ever killed a man. Lazlo scratched his head to think.

"No I can't recall having done that", he said, scratching his chin.

"I fear it will come to us all, the moment where we must take another's life, or die ourselves". Breuer looked very distant and troubled. Lazlo himself began to feel uneasy. He hadn't given this subject any thought at all since his arrival, and they hadn't seen any foes. Now, Breuer had him pondering it.


To be continued......

Raine, you are also a dirty, dirty man.
That was an exhilarating tale. I can’t imagine finding one of those airships in the darkness and taking it out. Good on you. Collins is going to be one famous flyer. I guess Major Higgins has nothing to complain about now. I wonder if James is also going to be haunted by a fleet of fried sailors.
Lou, you had given me the heebie-jeebies with that story. Any fried bacon aftertaste? Oh, and thank the Gong fairy for me. The award was unexpected.
Lederhosen, Brown Baron? I hope it's just dried blood, not that other thing.
Carrick, don’t give up. Bring along more tracers on the next mission.
Harry, Boelcke shook Lazlo’s hand? Did he have to go to a hospital immediately after? Lucky those E.IV’s showed up when they did. Looking forward to his first encounter with the enemy.

19 August, 1916 15:50 afternoon mission
Luxeuil, Alsace Sector
3 Wing RNAS
FL Tobias Chester Mulberry
6 confirmed kills
Awaiting 1 claim confirmation

Commander Draper was just ahead already heading for the front lines. Toby was coming into formation. He looked overboard and saw the Mulhouse railyard burning below with black and grey smoke rising above it. Each of the planes was four bombs lighter after releasing them just a few minutes ago. Their job was done and they were on their way back home. Or so they thought when two Fokkers E.IV’s appeared to the south. Mulberry spotted them in time and turned into the Huns. One of them went to introduce himself to Draper, the other came sniffing after Toby. The two pairs got separated from each other while fighting their opponents. Toby kept his partner ahead and below. The German pilot tried to lose the British by flying under him, but all Toby had to do was to bank to reacquire the monoplane. It actually worked at one time and the Fokker succeeded in getting away, but the tan canvas stood out again the forest canopy and Toby was able to spot him and dive after him. The Hun was on his way to the nearby Sierentz aerodrome when a barrage of gunfire surprised him. The machine spun violently into the ground and Mulberry turned back to rejoin Draper. As soon as he did that, he realized he was flying directly towards a trio of Fokkers patrolling above. He tried to skulk behind them at lower altitude, but the Flak from the railyard betrayed him. It was too late. One of the Fokkers peeled off from the formation and dived on him. It was Toby’s turn to fly into his assailant and try to hide under the Eindecker‘s fuselage. The Fokker driver would have none of that and made a large circular descent to Mulberry’s level. It was not his finest hour, as Toby instantly pounced on his tail and brought the machine down east of the burning railyard. He then quickly turned for the lines not wanting to meet the vanquished pilot’s friends. He immediately noticed another Eindecker fly by at a higher altitude but this one was in no mood to party. Draper probably gave this one a black eye.

YouTube Link

I am commanded to convey the heartfelt gratitude of His Majesty to the following officer:

Wow! So much going on at the moment! Congrats on the new decorations, all, and Raine, brilliant effort with the Zeppelin. I see a V.C in Collins' future.


Adj. James B. Fullard,
Esc. N.124 'Americaine',
Bar-le-Duc, France.

August 26th, 1916:

In the first hours on the morning of the 26th, we were each woken by an apologetic Caporal and instructed to head downstairs, where our breakfast was already waiting. As we stepped into the dining room, we were met with Thenault, who stood in candlelight waiting for us, a trench map rolled under his arm.“Gentlemen. Congregate in the lounge in five minutes time. Today, we have a special assignment”.

We hurriedly scarfed down our food, knocked back our coffees, and made our way next-door to the lounge. “Airfield attack?” Rockwell mused. “Nah, I bet it’s another damned Loos Junction show” replied Rumsey. We found Thenault and Bill Thaw awaiting us with the map laid out on a central oak table. “Gather round, and listen up. We’ll be covering troop movements today, along with two Caudrons from Escadrille 105. We are to meet here -” he indicated to a small forest just West of Behonne - “and we shall escort the Caudrons to the front. Just here”. There were some mutterings as he pointed to the twin lakes of Refuge and Wargeveaux, just across the lines from the large three-fingered Lac de Madine. We all knew the spot well - it was a pretty hot sector. “Thaw will lead the first flight, consisting of Blanchon, Johnson, Fullard and Rockwell. I shall take Pavelka and Rumsey higher and act as top cover. Now, we are not going out and looking for trouble today, understood? Our job is to get the Caudrons back safely. We’ll leave the Bosche alone so long as they leave us alone. Now, to the airfield. Our machines will be ready when we get there”.

We were afforded plenty of time to ponder the meaning of this infantry push as we were driven towards Behonne. Hall mused that we were going to push the Bosche right back out of St. Mihiel, but the rest of us found it unlikely. I noticed that everybody seemed jumpy, nervous. The way you get when you expect a big fight. Only Luf remained unfazed, propped up in the corner of the staff car with a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He looked to be lost in some deep thought.

I had made low-light take-offs before, but with the majority of the squadron’s machines rolling at once I was highly conscious of each droning Le Rhone around me. Fighting my instinct to turn away from the sound, I focused on keeping my eyes fixed on the fain shimmer of Thaw’s machine just ahead of me. We climbed up and headed towards the Rendez-vous. All the while I wondered how we would ever find the Caudrons in this darkness. Fortunately, however, the sky began to lighten slightly as we approached, with the first pink rays of sun brightening the clouds. We quickly spotted the two Caudrons and Thaw led us onto their right wing, just above them. As we approached the lines, with Thenault’s flight hovering protectively above us, the sun finally bloomed into its full radiance, bathing the landscape in a river of gold. I looked over the rolling hills of Verdun in awe. I’ll miss all this when the Bosche finally get me, I thought to myself, and was immediately taken aback at my own fatalism. Immediately I thought of Michael, and then of my parents. Did they know yet, that their son was dead?

The grey-brown wound of No-Man’s-Land crept out of the morning fog, and with it came a layer of clouds I hadn’t yet seen. Rainclouds - and they had freshly opened over No-Man’s-Land. I set aside my wandering thoughts, turning my attention instead to looking for the Bosche as we flew into the biting rain. Below, I noticed yellow-white flashes - artillery shells bursting in the Poilu’s trenches. The Bosche were responding to our push. As we flew East down the length of the lines, it seemed that every inch of the French lines was being churned up and thrown into the air. It reminded me of the first family trip to the beach I could remember - Andrew had just turned two, and he was excitedly grabbing handfuls of sand and tossing them into the air. #%&*$#, James. Forget Andrew.

The Caudrons kept their course, swooping over a forward German trench from which I could see a thousand muzzle-flashes. The two bombers each dropped a payload of bombs, and I watched as the Observer in the back discaded some Flechettes and a pair of stick grenades over the top. I couldn’t help but smile as I saw one Flechette falling with a streamer in the French Flag’s colours attached to it. Immediately after dropping their bombs, the Caudrons turned back for home and we gratefully followed. By this point both my Nieuport and I had been soaked through. We returned to Behonne, quickly discarding our drenched flying gear and catching a ride back to the Villa at Bar-le-Duc.

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Raine, thank you for the bling and for the fine write-ups you've been doing on all the citations, it is much appreciated.

Have to go for the evening but I will catch up on everyone's latest episodes in the morning.

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Fullofit, terrific work on the two Fokkers in your last video. Very patient and precise flying. Reminds me of Hellshade.

Wulfe, thanks for a lovely little story from a quiet escort mission. I grew nostalgic for Voscadeaux's days in Caudrons.

Carrick, that elusive 5th is coming. I can feel it.

Lou, de nada, mate! You're the one pulling bunnies out of hats -- DSC? "Coming right up!" It really adds to the campaign.

Harry, good news that Lazlo's mechanics can forego the block and tackle now. I'm enjoying "Big Red."


An Airman’s Odyssey – by Lt James Arthur Collins, MC

Part Fifty-Six: In which I am overwhelmed

I landed, as I always did, gasping for air. The approach over the last treetops to the field, dimly lit by fire-pots, always found me holding my breath. A bump, a moments floating, and then another heavier shock as the BE12 stalled onto the clay of North Weald. It carried on a long way and I carefully began turning towards the slivers of light that seeped out from the sheds. There was a motor car on the field by the paved apron and a crowd of figures silhouetted in the headlights. The engine cut, I heard cheering.

“Was it you, Mr. Collins?” an ack emma shouted. I gripped the leather at the side of the cockpit and nodded. A roar went up. Major Higgins was here, slapping the side of my leg as I stepped down. There was no chance to speak as I was hoisted aloft by a forest of arms and carried to the station office. Little McHarg had a bottle of champagne open and handed it up. I took a long swig and passed it down as I was deposited on the step. There was a report to write.

After, I sat on the grass outside the hut with the other lads. Someone had produced some brandy. We pieced the events of the night together. Sowrey had seen one Zeppelin caught in lights near Greenwich, but could not catch it. Billy had made a pass at another, or perhaps the same one as Sowrey, but his gun had jammed. All London had seen my airship burn. I wanted to know where it crashed. There were thousands of homes below. Already there were newspapermen here. They told us the Zeppelin came down in a sewage farm near a place called Galleon’s Reach, just east of the docks area. There was only one dead on the ground, a watchman.



I was compelled to wash up and pose for photographs, but ordered to give no statement. Instead, I was to appear at the Hotel Cecil at 2 p.m. to brief General Henderson.

At 8 am I flew a quick test flight to check the rigging on my machine, which had been fitted with a new upper plane. A driver was sent from RFC HQ to pick me up and we made our way to town. I’d hoped to find a place to eat en route, but there were crowds along the way and I’m delighted to say that more than a few young maidens saw fit to give me a kiss, leaning into the open automobile. We passed a newsagent’s stand on the Strand, and I saw my face staring out at me from the illustrated papers. Life had turned strange.

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Carrick, tough luck for Kieth on that obs balloon. Maybe he should put in some time at the gun range.

Harry, glad to see that Lazlo has a new mount with a bit more space. And he met the great Boelcke himself - lucky fellow. As to the dilemma of having to kill a fellow man in battle, that is something that each must deal with on his own terms.

Fullofit, excellent bit of flying on Chesty's part, well done. Another fine video and report. And congrats on his new bling.

Lederhosen, well done on the award of the Blue Max to Willi, he deserved it.

Wulfe, wonderful bit of writing, most evocative.

Raine, I'm loving Collins' latest epic. Can't wait to see how it all turns out.


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28 August 1916
Fienvillers, France


"I hear it's going to be a VC for him."

"The VC? For bringing down a Zep? It was one bloody gas bag the size of King's Cross Station lumbering along the Thames. Who the hell couldn't hit a target like that."

"It was pitch dark and some 14,000 feet over London according to da article, not exactly a cake walk to find ya know."

"Ever heard of searchlights mate? Story also says the thing was shining like the full moon up there with all the lights that had picked it out."

It was another wet, rainy morning at Fienvillers and the current and rather lively topic of discussion at breakfast was the downing of a Zeppelin four nights earlier. As it happened the man responsible for this feat was none other than Captain Swanson's good friend and former squadron mate, Lieutenant James Collins, who had recently been sent back to England and placed on Home Defence duties. No sooner had the stout fellow gotten there when he brought down the giant airship in full flames in the dead of night, just east of London. Swany was understandably proud of his pal for pulling off such a stunt. However, Swany's G/O, Lt. Christopher Dent, was less than impressed with the whole affair and had no qualms about making his opinions known. The debate had progressed to the point where Captain Swanson was now defending the idea of Collins receiving the Victoria Cross for his efforts.

"Vell da tings do have gunners on dem ya know. It's not like dey just float around and let you shoot at dem as you please." Swany's accent was becoming more pronounced as his agitation grew.

"Bah! How many bloody gunners are banging away at us every time we cross the mud, not to mention the ones on the Hun buses themselves. I'm telling you mate, this is all about the Red Tabs and politicians finding a way to make themselves look good to the folks back in England. Offer up the bloke who gave 'em all a fireworks display over their heads, pin the VC on his chest, and show him off to the country. It's good press and a dam'd fine distraction from the bloody mess they've made over here with this latest offensive." Chris sat back and finished off his cup of tea, feeling quite pleased with himself and his line of argument.

Swany thought for a moment before responding, allowing his ire to subside. "Chris, let's just say dat you are entitled to your take on the whole ting and I am entitled to mine. We each know where we stand - I say VC, you say bah. OK den?"

The Lieutenant gave a laugh as he reached for a jar of apple jam and a knife and began slathering a piece of now-cold toast with the preserves. "Fair enough mate. He is your friend after all, I never really got to know him when we were all serving together in Number 3 way back when. But why shouldn't you wish the best for him. I'm just saying it's all political. Hell, you deserve the VC far more than your chum back in Blighty does. My god man, you're at what now, 26 kills?"

"27", Swany replied almost in a whisper, as he took a long sip of his ginger tea.

"27! And you think Collins should get the VC for one bloody Hun gas bag. You're a pip my friend, a real pip. If you're giving him a gong for anything it should be for that fine whiskey he used to supply us with, now that was worthy of the Victoria Cross."

The conversation was interrupted at this point when the CO popped into the mess and announced that the morning patrols were on. The rain had subsided to a drizzle and the winds had dropped below 15 and it was time for everyone to get their arses in the air, PDQ.

"C'mon Swansong", Chris chimed as he sprang from his chair, "Let's see if we can't make it 28 for you."

Swany smiled as he rose and walked with his G/O towards the door, "And how many would that make for you den?"

"17 I think, but who's counting."

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Lou, congrats on the bling. Got it the hard way, with many, many kills, not just one large one. Well, off with you to make it an even 30.
Wulfe, those sunrises are spectacular, aren’t they? So many years flying this sim and it is still astonishing. Great description of the surroundings. Wish I was flying a Caudron again (or not).
Raine, thanks for the comparison. I still have ways to go to get to his level. Wonderful story BTW. Now I know why one would voluntarily fly at night. It’s all this glory, all this free booze, all those maidens. Who can resist?

20 August, 1916 04:00 morning mission
Luxeuil, Alsace Sector
3 Wing RNAS
FL Tobias Chester Mulberry
9 confirmed kills

The strange, ‘one-bullet kill’ E.III and the 2 from last mission have been confirmed. It looks like Draper was paying attention and was able to confirm both claims.

They were waiting for them. Despite an early departure and getting to target still with the sun very low, the Huns were ready. A patrol over the Colmar factories spoiled their mission. Mulberry and Prince abandoned their bomb runs and engaged the enemy. Prince got one on his tail right away and Toby came to his rescue. He hit the Hun as he flew by and the other Strutter gave him the slip. The tables have turned and now the Fokker was being chased. Toby worried about the other Eindeckers that came along. He couldn’t see any. The two Strutters chased the monoplane and Mulberry realized they must be over their target right now. Maybe he can drop the bombs as they pass by? He quickly looked into the bombsight but it was too late. He watched as the factory slid by at the bottom of the targeting window. He took another look around and found another Eindecker following them. Toby quickly banked to avoid any fire and watched a green Fokker fly by. This Eindecker was after Prince though, attempting to rescue his wingman. The green Fokker pursued but Mulberry’s Strutter was right behind him. The Hun dove steeply to catch the first pair and Toby was left behind not willing to lose his wings in the dive. The green Fokker caught up to Prince and he was forced to abandon the hunt and take evasive maneuvers. Toby finally got there as well and carefully, as not to collide with the other Strutter, inserted himself behind the Eindecker and brought it down. Tobias looked around but couldn’t see where Prince had gone to. He decided to return on his own. Prince was missing.

YouTube Link

Keith Cunard Mallory
2nd LT, Rfc
29 Sqn, Ablee AF.
DH-2's
4 Kills


I led the Sqn ( 6 a/c ) today om 2 flights both Escort types. Morning : a Fee on Recon to Zeldelgarden. Afternoon: 2 Be 2's to photo Map The Lines. The only loss was a Dh-2 from A flight landed short of the runway a Right Off, but pilot kinda ok was knocked Out and missing some teeth.

Keith Cunard Mallory
2nd LT, Rfc
29 Sqn, Ablee AF.
DH-2's
4 Kills

Late day at the Gun Range.

https://youtu.be/p31mw0WPGrk

Walking back from the Range I ran into a different problem.

https://giphy.com/gifs/great-race-nat-wood-USylMN6bNHuQObpWWI/fullscreen

lol!... the second problem looks a bit dodgy mate.

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Trooper, I agree, of the two the latter there looks far more dangerous. I wouldn't trust her any further than I could throw that rock she's sitting on. (lucky rock)

Fullofit, Tobias seems unstoppable at the moment, the man is a terror. His chest must be swelling with such pride.

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