Raine, I almost pee’d myself. I wish I had a video as I knew I was a goner. Never been so happy to pick up a new machine in my life! Now maybe I can gain some recognition and be stalked by a femme fatale as some on he other side of the lines are!
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!
#4489892 - 09/19/1902:02 AMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
MFair - Close call again! Hats off for taking on those Nieuports in a crummy old Eindecker. Hope the extra pair of wings brings you some better luck!
Raine - Uh-oh, seems your reporter is getting her claws in! I'm still amazed how you can write an arc that has absolutely no air combat in it and still make it as riveting as the rest of the tales. That being said, Collins must be concocting a plan to return to the front...I wonder if he'll run into a certain Danish friend of his when he does return?
Carrick - Rainy in the Alsace as well. How does the late DH2 fare when compared to the early one? Try to steer clear of those Albatroses!
Sous. Lt. James B. Fullard, Esc. N.124 'Américaine', Luxeuil, France.
September 19th, 1916
Frustration has set in within the Escadrille as the rain continued into the morning of the second day, bringing a steady halt to flying operations in the Alsace region, save for one or two brave, or possibly mad, Caudron pilots from Capitane Happe’s group. With nought else to do, Luf, Thaw and I headed to the hangars. I found Toby, or ‘Chesty’ as I had heard him called by his mob, milling around the hangars, and out of a fleeting curiosity I asked him about his own machine. He was rather fascinated by our Nieuports and had already been over twice to see them up close, and so was happy to return the favour. Chesty flew a Strutter - one of the newest English machines, and a fine one at that. It reminded me of the Bosche Roland - a two-seater that doubled up as a fighting machine.
Chesty’s own ship was something of a curiosity to me - whereas the other pilots of the English naval squadron flew with observers, Mulberry had, at his own request, sealed off the rear seat and removed its guns, flying it instead as a single-seater. By any means, his fifteen victories proved that the type was more than a match for the Eindeckers that swarmed in the region. “You’re Scottish?” I asked him, gesturing to the personal marking behind the cockade - a white ‘X’ against a blue background. He smirked. “Scottish? No! It’s a Naval signal flag, you see? This one means ‘M’, for Mulberry”. I nodded, noticing now that the other Sopwiths bore similar markings. It was then that a thought occurred to me. “Say, Toby, what’s the signal for ‘F’?”
Turning the collar of a borrowed greatcoat up against the rain, I headed over to our Escadrille’s hangars. With Whiskey lounging at his feet, Thaw was busy painting his own insignia - a stylised ‘T’, when I found him. “Say, Bill, got any spare paint?” I asked him, and he gestured with his foot to two buckets beside his machine. Taking up a bucket and a paintbrush, I set about marking my own ship, producing a small scrap of paper on which Mulberry had illustrated the naval signal. As we worked, the armourer commanded a pair of Caporals to start loading crates of ammunition into our hangar. After placing a pot of coffee atop a paraffin boiler loaned to us by the Canadians, Thaw decided to take a break, deciding that one of the new crates would make for a fine bench. However, as he moved to sit, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, staring down at the crate.
“Hey, James, come and look at this!” he called over to me as I poured two mugs of coffee. Handing one to Thaw, I looked down at the crate. “Savage Arms Co” I read aloud. “So what?”. Thaw grinned and pointed to the illustration beside the company’s name. “Say, don’t you think that would make for a swell Escadrille insignia?”. Looking over the emblem, a grin slowly crossed my face. “You know, Bill, that’s a fine idea…”
Through the miserable rain we interrogated the Caporals we found on their artistic ability, before finally being directed to one Caproal Suchet. “Oui, I was a painter before the war. Why, what do you need painted?”. Thaw and I shot each other a glance. “Come on and we’ll show you”.
For the next several hours we watched as Suchet knelt beside Thaw’s machine with paintbrush in hand, occasionally turning his eye to the ammunition crate we’d propped up beside him. Finally, after an impatient wait, we stepped back to admire the Caporal’s work - proud and fierce on the side of Thaw’s ship was the terrifying face of a Seminole Indian warrior locked in a silent battle-cry.
“Let’s show the Capitane” Thaw said to me excitedly and, after slipping Suchet a few Francs and a packet of cigarettes for his trouble, we rushed out towards Thenault’s office. “So, whaddaya think?” I asked Thenault as he studied Suchet’s handiwork. For a long while he stood with his arms folded behind his back, studying each detail and brush stroke, before slowly he nodded. “Yes, I like it. I like it a lot. I’ll have Suchet paint the rest of the Escadrille’s machines with this insignia”. Thaw and I laughed in triumph as Whiskey joined in with an approving roar.
Last edited by Wulfe; 09/19/1909:17 AM.
#4489943 - 09/19/1912:45 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Joined: May 2012 Posts: 4,082RAF_Louvert
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
Wulfe, two more fine episodes. Love the intersection of Fullard's story and Toby's, and a wonderful telling of how the famous insignia came to be.
Raine, the plot thickens between James and Alex. Can't wait to see how this all plays out.
Fullofit, I've a hunch Toby is going to ingratiate himself right into one of those Nieups and take it for a turn.
MFair, a close call for Drogo, glad he got that old Eindecker down in one piece. His new mount will be a godsend.
Harry, hope to be seeing more from Lazlo soon. Good luck with the launch.
Carrick, great pics, and good work on the part of those spies.
19 September 1916 Fienvillers, France
It was the third day of dud weather and all morning flights had been cancelled again because of it. The rain and winds had brought a much-needed reprieve for the men of 70 Squadron, giving the pilots and G/Os who had survived the opening day of the latest push some time to recover, as well as providing an opportunity for the repair crews to get the remaining Strutters airworthy again. Three replacement aircraft were scheduled to arrive in the afternoon, and several new pilots and gunners had shown up last evening just before dinner. All welcome additions, and while it hardly brought the unit back to full strength it was at least sending it in the right direction.
Captain Swanson had found a dry, quiet corner in one of the Bessonneaus and was sitting on an upturned packing box of questionable integrity, elbows on knees, studying a small booklet as he muttered quietly to himself.
"vee vite bis tsoom nexten dorfa. vee vite bis tsoom nexten dorfa." He moved his finger to the next line on the page as he swayed ever so slightly to and fro on his wobbly perch. "gayen veer nahh norden oder zooden. gayen veer nahh norden oder zooden."
"You're not going Hunnish on us, are you Captain?"
The question and sudden appearance of the fellow asking it startled Swany so that he sat up instantly, causing his weight to shift just enough and in just the wrong way that the creaky crate beneath him collapsed, dropping the surprised airman flat on his arse.
"Oh hell! Sorry old man, thought you heard me coming", Lieutenant Vancour apologized as he offered the Captain a hand up while trying not to burst out laughing.
Swany chuckled as he stood and brushed off his backside. "Not to worry Bunny, I wasn't paying attention - all lost in this German phrase book. And no, I'm not changing sides, just learning their lingo in case I ever find myself stranded somewhere I shouldn't be. Know thine enemy - right?"
"Not a bad idea", Bunny replied. "I was never much good at foreign langauges myself, just don't have the knack for them."
2nd Lt. Awdry "Bunny" Vancour had come over from Northolt with B Flight early on in July along with his G/O, Lieutenant Alan "Contact" Bott. They were both fine fellows and a dependable wing team, which was why Captain Swanson had requested they be moved to his flight some time back. And given that they were one of the few crews to survive the butchery of the 15th they were apparently lucky as well.
"Well I grew up speaking two languages so that probably gives me an advantage", Swanson noted, slipping the booklet into his tunic pocket and strolling towards the front of the hangar as Bunny tagged along. "I surprised myself though with how fast I learned French."
This talent of Swany's had been remarked upon several days earlier by Captain Maurice Baring when he had taken Swanson along on his rounds of the other squadrons in the area. As the two men sat together in the back of the staff car, traveling from camp to camp, they'd had a good amount of time to talk, and as the conversation meandered - from the topic of the current offensive; to how the R.F.C. was faring in it; to the performance of the King's latest aeroplanes against those of the Kaiser's; to life in general - it came to land at one point on the topic of languages. Captain Baring was a master of them, being fluent in not only English but Latin, Greek, French, German, Italian, Russian, and Danish as well. When Maurice heard that Swany had learned to speak French the discussion was immediately taken up in that tongue, with Baring soon noting that Swanson sounded like he was a native of the region. And when it was further learned that the young ace had been raised speaking Norwegian Maurice asked that Swany teach him several of the more useful phrases right then and there. Captain Swanson was amazed at how fast the fellow picked it up. Baring suggested that since Swany had conquered French so completely he should next try German. "With your ear for dialects you should have no trouble mastering it in short order", the General's aide remarked, then promptly gave Swany a primer in the basic pronunciation rules of German as the two men jounced along in the staff car through the French countryside.
Swanson and Vancour had reached the open end of the Bessonneau and were standing there watching the rain drizzle from the canvas flaps above them. The weather did not appear to be improving at all.
"So what do ya think Bunny, make a run for da mess and get some hot tea?" Swany posed.
"Good a plan as any Captain, you lead", Vancour replied.
"Rank has it's privilege, eh?"
The two men dashed off through the rain.
#4490018 - 09/20/1901:04 AMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Keith Cunard Mallory LT, Rfc B Flight Commander 29 Sqn, Ablee AF. DH-2's 5 Kills
Sep 20, 1916.
Took one for the team today, we were on Defensive Patrol and found a flight of Hun Scouts shaped like a fish with squared wings. A general melee started going down to the deck. I got shot up and forced down near a friendly Aerodrome. He was all over me couldnt out turn or out run him. Only the fact that we had 8 a/c against their 3 saved me . The Medics said my wnd was slight but will be down for 10 days, The Score: 1 forced landing, 2 damaged with a pilot wnd. for ? All 3 of the e/a's were seen heading away for Hun land
Last edited by carrick58; 09/20/1904:22 PM.
#4490077 - 09/20/1904:13 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Great stories by all these days. It's a real treat to come here every day and be entertained like this. Fullofit, I loved seeing Toby and Fullard connect. What will they be up to next?
Collins is fighting to get back in the fight.
An Airman’s Odyssey – by Capt James Arthur Collins, VC, MC
Part Sixty-Four: In which I am to be rusticated
I was back in North Weald Bassett by ten that night. The Huns did not come, but the rains did. The wind picked up and the moon clouded over and I got an early night’s rest although I laid awake for a couple of hours thinking of absconding with the lovely Alex Anderson for a filthy weekend. Cornwall? The Lakes? Much too far away. There was no need to spend precious hours on a train. The Cotswolds? Hadn’t been there yet. Perhaps the Cotswolds.
It rained all the next day, but there was no chance for a late lie-in. I was called into the city to meet once again with General Brancker. The meeting was brief and upsetting. He informed me that I was to be posted in the near future to a staff job dealing with pilot training. I protested and begged to be sent back to France. He bluntly refused, saying that a VC was more valuable on the home front. He also insinuated that the Canadian War Records Office – Aitken’s little hobby – wanted me close at hand for “morale-building” purposes and were agitating to send me on a tour of Canada to promote recruitment. So that was it, old boy. You serve on the Army’s terms, you know. The General could talk.
I wandered out of the Cecil and along the Strand to Bow Street, soaked to the skin. I asked a policeman for directions to Bloomsbury Square. It was the landmark I remembered, and from there I followed my nose to New North Street and Alex’s flat. The landlady looked at me with a distrustful eye. Alex was not home, she said, and closed the door in my face. I found a tearoom not too far away and begged the hostess for a scrap of paper. I wrote a note:
Have just learned they want to keep me away from France as a prize cow to show off to Aitken and his people. Bloody infuriating. I wanted neither a staff job nor a training posting. They plan to give me a staff job to do with training! Must find a way out of this. Telephone me if you are able to. Would love to see you sooner than Friday.
I wrote the telephone exchange and number for the station office at North Weald. Then it was back to Alex’s, where I slipped the folded note into the letterbox. My motor was back at Charing Cross Station...
The uniform was just beginning to dry when I brought the Vauxhall to a stop outside the sentry post off Epping Road in North Weald.
“You’re back early, sir,” the sentry shouted from the door of the guard house. “Sergeant Bradley told me to let you know there was a call for you about fifteen minutes ago. The officers have gone to the Kings Head for lunch, sir.”
I pulled the car across to the station office and dashed inside. Sergeant Bradley was the duty NCO. He passed me a yellow slip of paper. It read: “Call from a Miss Anderson 11:55 a.m. – ‘I have a plan. Cannot meet before Friday. Trust me.” There was no return telephone number.
#4490120 - 09/20/1909:51 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Joined: Nov 2014 Posts: 2,925Fullofit
MFair, looks like Drogo survived the scourge. Now, to get used to the new ride and start paying back. There should be plenty of opportunities to do just that.
Carrick, we have a spy on our side? What does she look like? I know it’s a secret, so how about one of those irresistible disguises?
Wulfe, great detective work on figuring out what Chesty’s personal marking was all about. Looking forward to seeing that N.17 with the “F” on the fuselage in action. And great piece of history with the Seminole insignia and fine pictures to go with it. Now, waiting for that rain to go away ... (Is Whiskey chewing on a paintbrush?)
Lou, Toby in a Nieuport? No way! It’s been forbidden, and yet ... the forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest. Now, Swany hasn’t been sitting on one of those Savage Arms Co. crates by any chance? Hopefully he will one day learn to go east and west as well Good to hear the squadron is replenishing its strength.
Raine, oh please, please! Let Alex’s plan involve some naughtiness, like streaking across Buckingham Palace front lawn!
The past few days went by fast. The constant rain prevented the squadron from any air strikes. The time was spent on drinking and playing, drinking, writing letters back home, drinking, visiting the Americans in their hangars as they fussed over their new machines, drinking, getting to know his new wingman, drinking with the Canadians, drinking with the Americans, drinking with his new wingman. Flight Sub-Lieutenant Rick Knight was fresh out of school and excited to start flying, or as he put it: “Get at the Hun.” Toby didn’t know what advice to give his wingman. It is true he was now a Squadron Commander, but up until now his plane was the only element in his flight and he had only himself to command. This morning the weather improved slightly, but not enough to be deemed flyable, so the Americans went merrily back to painting their mounts with chopped off Indian heads. The Canadians on the other hand decided that the weather was good enough to fly in and went about preparing for the sorties. Toby’s flight was tasked with escorting the ‘A’ flight to spot for the artillery west of Mulhouse. The trip to the lines went without a hitch, but as soon as they arrived on station, they spotted 3 shapes below. Mulberry gave signal and they descended on them. Knight sped up, eager to get at the enemy. Toby let him pick his target and went for the single one that seemed like he was intending to get on his wingman’s tail. He attacked him, but soon had to disengage and go after another one that was taking pot shots at his Strutter. He followed him in a dive and stuck with him through the rest of his maneuvers, hitting him whenever he came close to crossing his gunsight. Mulberry nearly had him but had to disengage again - Toby noticed his wingman was in trouble. One of the remaining Fokkers continued to give him grief. The two Eindeckers Toby’s been battling suddenly disappeared and he could concentrate on the last one following Knight. He was gaining on them. The monoplane continued to grow in his sights. He fired and the Eindecker disengaged freeing his wingman to make his escape. Mulberry continued to fire at the Hun, getting closer and closer. More rounds begun to land on the target and as the German bird disappeared under Toby’s fuselage, it caught on fire. By the time the Strutter made a 180 degree turn, the monoplane was diving into the ground. Toby didn’t feel any remorse this time. A terrible death to be sure, but fair. Fallen during the battle with weapon in hand. Anyone of them could have ended like this. Anyone of them still can...
Carrick, those new Hun scouts are a handful. Going up against them in those old Aircos has to be frightening. Hope Keith gets assigned a comely nurse - again.
Raine, I wonder what Alex has up her stylish, feminine sleeve. Fingers crossed James can make it back across the Channel, would hate to see him flying a desk for the rest of the conflict.
Fullofit, what use does Toby have for one of those flashy new N17s, he continues to do just fine with his trusty Strutter. Now then, it seems to me that Chesty should be spending a little less time chasing the Huns and a little more time drinking, the man is practically a teetotaller from the sounds of it.
MFair, hope to see some reports of Drogo in his new D.II very soon.
21 September 1916 Fienvillers, France
Captain Swanson, Lieutenant Chatwick, and the other two crews of A Flight had their hands full today and are now back at camp, and quite glad of it. The dud weather began lifting last night and by shortly after morning tea 70 Squadron was able to get back into the air and do their work. The first sortie that Swany led was uneventful, a recce of the front around Flers and Corcelette. The situation on the ground looked to be stalled with the new British lines but a few hundred yards farther east from where they had been before the carnage began on the 15th. How many thousands of men died claiming that sliver of real estate, Swany wondered.
The second outing, which began mid-afternoon, was a contact patrol from Bapaume down to Péronne and back. Things were quiet until the Strutters made their swing at the southern end of the route, that's when all hell broke loose. Five of the sleek new Hun biplanes, (which, it had been learned, are designated "Albatros"), descended on the three Sopwiths, and they meant business. Unlike the green pilot Swanson had sent down in one of the new kites on the 15th, these fellows knew what they were doing and how to make the best use of their mounts. It was a twisting, swirling mess as the King's airmen did their dam'dest to fight off the Kaiser's superior numbers. The air Huns were working together as a real unit and it was lucky that the men of A Flight were more than capable of doing the same. Each time an Albatros would flash across Swany's gun sight he'd let loose a volley, and Lt. Chatwick did an excellent job of swatting the Boche away from their six. The Strutters hung together offering each other cover as long as they could, but as it is with so many dogfights things eventually devolved into an every-man-for-himself situation. Fortunately, by that time two of the Huns had been driven off which left it a three-on-three fight. As the Albatros and Strutter pairs came together for the finale Swany noticed that he and his dance partner were getting rather close to No Man's Land. Bullets began zipping around both planes as troops on each side fired up at them from the trenches below. Amid this distraction Captain Swanson managed at last to get a good, sound burst from the Vickers to land on his target's vitals and watched as the Hun pilot suddenly lurched in the cockpit. Immediately thereafter the Albatros fell and crashed into the mud right in the middle of a barrage that was in progress. Swany, not wishing to linger in the hostile skies he and Chatwick currently occupied, swung the Strutter to the west and made for the friendly side, no sooner crossing over when the Clerget began to sputter. Moments later it conked out - Damm, no fuel! One of the rounds sent up from the trenches had holed the tank. The Captain aimed for an open field just beyond the craters and settled down gently next to a small road. As Swanson and Chatwick climbed out of their bus they could see the barrage continuing to bang away, and could also see the column of black smoke rising up from the remains of their attacker. A squad of French soldats of the 1st Corps were nearby and came to offer their assistance. Swany asked if they would help push the Strutter into the trees next to the road to keep it out of sight while he went to phone his squadron. A Sous Lieutenant Melltineau informed the Captain that the French airfield near Chipilly was only about three miles away and he was sure they would be able to send a truck. Two hours later a crew from Chipilly had indeed been sent and were able to make the repairs on the spot. Swanson and Chatwick waved goodbye to their helpful allies as the Strutter lifted off from the road and into a fading fall sky. Upon returning to Fienvillers Swany was relived to learn that his other two teams had made it back home, relatively intact, and with one claim submitted between them. The Captain and his G/O turned in their claim, but with all the ground fire that had been spewing up at them he was fairly certain the French troops west of Péronne had already marked the fallen Albatros as their doing. Swany didn't care much either way, it was one less Hun and that's all that really mattered to him.
The flights of 70 Squadron heading out on the afternoon patrols.
A Flight pounced on by five of the Hun's new Albatros scouts.
Captain Swanson making the most of every firing opportunity offered him.
Getting away from the lines PDQ, the smoldering remains of an Albatros amid the barrage below.
Back on the friendly side, sans fuel but otherwise safe and relatively sound.
#4490173 - 09/21/1905:15 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Mock and Dorn had a grand time feeling out their new mounts on the return flight from Ghent. They were both in high spirits as they took off with Marconnay to escort an Aiatik to bomb the front lines north of Verdun. Marconnay was their new flight leader since Dornhiem had transferred out. They had not had time to get to know him, only that he was an aristocratic and seemed a bit aloof.
They had just attained altitude south of Martincourt when Marconnay suddenly dove. Drogo and Dorn followed. Drogo was shocked to see 2 Nieuports coming at them. The 5 machines flashed past each other with their guns firing. Drogo pulled into a climbing turn and saw his flight leader following one of the EA. Dorn made a deflection shot at the enemy machine and he and Marconnay took turns trying to get on his tail. This Frenchy knew his machine and even put a few holes in Drogo’s machine during the melee. The Frenchman knew when it was a bad situation and dove out for home. Marconnay signaled to land over Stenay and Drogo followed. The was no sign of Mock. They flew back to Martincourt and word soon came in of a crashed D II 5 miles from Stenay airfield. Drogo was crushed. Mock had been his friend since he arrived at Jasta 7 and the only one left from the 5 pilots he started with. “Wether the trenches or in the air, death is death” Drogo thought. Mock’s death weighed heavy on his mind but there was no time to ponder. They were to be back in the air that afternoon. He had learned one thing. He could not outfly the a Nieuport, but he stood a better chance of surviving with his new machine.
They were back in the air at 2pm with Mayer taking Mocks place. Another escort mission to Verdun. As the escorted craft did their job over Verdun, Drogo could see a lot of activity around. Judging from the specks fleets about their was a fight going on south of them but it was none of their concern at the moment. As the bombers turned home, so did Kette Zwei. Over NML Drogo saw an EIll being chased north by 2 Nieuports. He signaled Marconnay who gave him the signal to “go ahead.” Drogo dove to engage. He knew the E IIIpilot was a dead man unless he intervened. As he was lining up on the trailing unsuspecting Nieuport he checked his rear to see another Nieuport on his tail. He immediately turned to engage. With one pass the Nieuport headed home. Drogo turned but could not see the E III pilot nor the Nieuports. Looking back he saw another Nieuport coming up on his tail! After two circles the Nieuport broke for home. By the time Drogo could come around and give chase he was 400 yards away. Drogo fired a parting burst and was shocked to see the Nieuport go into a spin. Drogo stood on one wing and visually followed the Nieuport down. Realizing there may be more in the area, as soon as he was sure he could not recover Drogo leveled out and searched the skies. They were empty. He headed home. His claim was rejected in short order.
Once the bedlam of the day was over, Drogo retired to his quarters. There was Mocks empty bed. Drogo shook his head and went to bed. He felt very alone.
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!
#4490204 - 09/21/1911:23 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Joined: Nov 2014 Posts: 2,925Fullofit
Lou, Mulberry a teatotaler? What’s next? You want him to wear a skirt too? That sounds rather dangerous what Swany is doing. Going against enemy’s superior numbers is one thing but flying without petrol is just irresponsible. Glad everyone made it back safely. I also think those troops in the trenches should be taught a lesson. Next time a Hun flies this low, don’t shoot it down, just claim it. Les Poilus won’t be able to steal that one from you. Great shots as always!
MFair, sorry to hear about Mock. But I say better him than Drogo. Now, concentrate on wringing all the performance from that Fokker and stay alive. Hopefully even better planes are on the way.
The flaming Fokker has been confirmed. It seems it is easier to find witnesses when your enemy is a huge ball of fire in the air.
This morning Armstrong and Pellyn from the ‘A’ flight directed fire over St. Dié. Toby and his wingman, Knight were making sure the ‘A’ flight could operate undisturbed, by flying top cover. From the distance they could see two Fokkers approaching to interrupt their mission. Mulberry and Knight came down on the Huns from above before they could do any damage. Toby picked the trailing Fokker but as he got closer he realized he would overshoot him, so he quickly switched to the leader. He filled the monoplane full of lead and the pilot as well. The plane took a nosedive with no hope of recovery. Mulberry saw then another Eindecker harassing Armstrong in the ‘A’ Flight. He quickly got on his tail and began the process anew. The Hun took extreme amount of punishment, but remained afloat. Toby’s impatience grew rapidly and he kept the trigger squeezed for too long. The gun jammed. Mulberry cursed. The Vickers continued to stay silent as the young Ace struggled with it, keeping the wounded Hun in front of him. Finally the breech was clear. Toby renewed his attack and brought down his second Hun. He exhaled and watched as a pale trail of smoke followed the dead Hun to the ground. Art flew nearby and waved his thanks. As Toby waved back he noticed more monoplanes ready to attack. One of them was in front of him. As the two machines merged, Toby let a burst when the enemy passed overhead and immediately turned after him. Another turn, another Fokker made his presence known. Toby fired, he saw the Fokker wobble and then dive. Was this last salvo fatal? He would never know, Toby was already turning to clear the new Hun off his tail. Mulberry slipped behind the German machine and that’s when his wingman showed up out of nowhere, pushing his way through and adding to the confusion. Knight having realized what he had done moved away, giving Mulberry space to continue with the chase. The German pilot was good, never giving Toby a clear shot. They sparred lower towards the ground with the ruins of the city coming closer into view. The Eindecker continued to evade by attempting to escape under the Strutter’s fuselage, but Toby kept him in view constantly. Eventually the Boche ran out of height and in desperation tried to out-climb the Strutter, but as soon as he raised his nose, Toby had him in his sights and firing. That was it for the valiant pilot. His machine failed him and he drove the stricken bird down into the mud below. There wasn’t much to look at. A big crater with parts of the plane strewn about. The end of another of Kaiser’s finest.
Fullofit, Toby had a close one there when his wingman suddenly came horning in. Lucky there weren't two Strutters falling in pieces. But instead Chesty pulled a hat trick - well done. Another nice video too. Now then, to the not drinking, I said your man needs to drink more, not less. The dress is another matter entirely. And it's actually teetotaller, (or teetotaler), as in: "Have you quit drinking?" "I have, T-totally!"
MFair, good to see Drogo getting the feel for his new kite. The Nieups are a scary opponent, but they are not invincible as Dorn has already discovered. Too bad his claim was rejected, but there will surely be more. And tough luck about Mock.
Carrick, a sticky wicket to be sure.
#4490212 - 09/22/1901:21 AMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
Joined: Nov 2014 Posts: 2,925Fullofit
Thanks Lou, that was close, but at least he had enough sense to move away after realizing this Hun had already been taken. Ooooh, I thought it’s because tea is all they drink! No, no dress for poor Toby. A bra maybe, but no dress.
"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."
#4490233 - 09/22/1909:43 AMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)