Carrick, looks like that was a major scrap. Glad you didn't have to visit the pretty nurses this time.

Harry, it's amazing how varied the damage model is for these planes. Sometimes it'll take a few rounds to get one OOC, oftentimes you have to empty your entire drum/belt to get him to notice you are shooting at him.
The only difference between my aim and yours is the calibration of the joystick. I keep seeing in your vids how twitchy that thing is. You've got to get it sorted out. Remember you can set different sensitivity for each axis. Reduce your pitch axis only so that you don't have to much around with your roll axis. Also see if increasing the dead zone may help. My settings are asymmetrical for both axis. HTH.

Carrick, good try there. Sounds like you pulled the plug on chasing that Hun just in time. Good DiD call, that.
Fullofit, good to see a nice sedate patrol after the last episode. Keep Toby safe!
Harry, another great Lazlo chapter. It's funny, I haven't seen a Lone Wolf yet. Maybe the devs take pity on people flying BE12s. Hope you're enjoying the DIII. It's a great machine to have this early if you don't pull the wings off it like I would.

Collins is having a good time in 19 Squadron, but the re-equipping is painfully slow...

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

Part Seventy-Two: In which I am quite at home

9 October 1916 – second patrol of the day. A pristine beryl sky with scarcely a cloud, brisk, a gentle breeze, and at eight thousand feet over the Hun ‘drome at Riencourt, bloody frigid. I cursed that second cup of tea. Some of the fellows I’ve flown with would fumble with buttons and search for their shrunken whatsits in order to pee all over the rudder bar. I’ve never quite been that desperate or oblivious to the lot of my Ack Emmas, but that morning I came close. We escorted a French Caudron and I carried a few Coopers so at least one of us would make the trip worthwhile.

We’d just released our bombs and turned for home when a formation of Halberstadts dived on us – Prince, Child, and me. The Caudron put its nose down and headed west. We tried to catch up with the Frenchman but the Huns caught our BEs between the lines at three thousand and the jig started. One Hun was on Martin’s tail and I managed a full deflection burst that caused him to break off. The BE12 struggled for height and another Halberstadt stuck up and put rounds through the fuselage behind me. I pulled the machine around to the right. Easier said than done. The BE12 turned with the enthusiasm of a civil servant returning from lunch in his last week before retirement. Just then, Prince’s machine flashed in front of me with a nasty brown Halberstadt on its tail. I pressed the trigger. The top of the Hun was towards me as he dived and he flew straight into the burst. My tracers splattered across his top wing and into his cockpit, scarcely fifty yards away, and the Hun began a long, spinning dive towards the mud below.


"...the Hun began a long, spinning dive towards the mud below."

The fight was out of them now, and the enemy broke away while we re-formed and headed west. Both my flight-mates promised drinks and Prince confirmed my Halberstadt – my eleventh Hun and the second I’d downed in a BE12. I was now even with Ian Henderson’s record in the machine. Major Rodwell declared that there would be a modest binge after dinner, and I was permitted to invite Major Lawrence and some of the 70 Squadron boys from across the field for food and drunkenness. That was Swany’s old firm. I strolled over to their squadron office to find that the officers were done for the day, so I knocked at their mess door and was invited in.

Major Lawrence seemed like a very good sort and we spent some time – three gins’ worth, in fact – talking about Swany. I regaled him with an exaggerated version of our Salisbury contest for Alex’s affections, without mentioning her by name or adding the small detail that she was the journalist of recent notoriety.
The binge later that night was a good time but a short one. Like the boys from 70, we had early patrols. I had a glass of port with Chatwick, who had been Swany’s observer. He was a decent sort, sporting a newly-issued MC ribbon and still basking in the reflected glory of my Yankee pal’s VC.

The next day, 10 May, was like Christmas. Captains Tidwell and Henderson were dispatched over to 2AD to pick up two of the new Spads. They were handsome machines with a rugged, pugnacious look about them. Unfortunately, as the newest flight commander, I did not get a Spad. So far, only these two had been delivered. C Flight was still lacking a pilot so Tidwell and Henderson began joining us for patrols. I suspect they just wanted to rub my nose in it. That afternoon we encountered two very keen Rolands west of Albert and got into a good scrap. I took a number of hits that fortunately missed anything vital (and me) and had to give up the hunt, but Henderson was able to down one of the Huns – our first Spad kill and his third.

On 11 October, C Flight drew the short straw and was dispatched five miles into Hunland to down a balloon south of Péronne. This one had defied earlier attempts. Its crew was very quick on the winch and the supporting guns and machine guns were good. Having no Le Prieurs on issue, and having little faith in my ability to down it with a BE12’s Vickers, I had the mechanics put up a pair of Cooper bombs.

I flew with Prince in his BE12 and the other two flight commanders in their new Spads. We saw no Huns on our approach. When we were still three miles off, Henderson and Tidwell opened their throttles and faded into the distance hoping to bag the balloon before the lumbering BE12s got in the way. I gave chase, but even Prince in his BE outpaced me with my bombs. The Huns were lowering the gasbag quickly and it was down to a thousand feet by the time I reached it, throttle wide open in a shallow dive yet barely reaching ninety miles an hour. From six or seven hundred feet above the balloon, I loosed the bombs and turned as sharply as I could. Just in time, too, for a pair of big, black Archie bursts rocked my machine. Another second of straight flight would have been my last! Banking about, I saw a flash and a column of flame and smoke and knew I’d bagged a balloon with a bomb.
A cluster of specks appeared to the east; it was time to go home.


"Banking about, I saw a flash and a column of flame and smoke and knew I’d bagged a balloon with a bomb."

This was victory number thirteen – that made four Huns since joining 19 Squadron. Fienvillers was starting to feel like home.

I think you're right, thanks for the tips! So long as out electricity stays on, I'll try some more tweaking tomorrow. We've been lucky so far!

Thanks, likewise with Collins! I've never seen a bomb get a balloon before!

Neither had I. It was just a lark and no one was more amazed than me when it worked. Good luck with the power outages and wildfires. Poor California is starting to sound like the plagues of Egypt!

.

Achtung!



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



You make the Vaterland most proud.

.

.

Attention!



His Majesty King George V hereby confers the following honours:





A grateful people thank you gentlemen for your service and loyalty.

.

It is always a delight to receive a visit from the fée des gongues (or Gongenfee for our Hunnish friends). Thank you, Lou!!!

My first ever award from the Gong Fairy! I'm feeling so proud right now, thank you Lou! What a wonderful surprise to wake up to this morning.... and PGE spared us, we still have power! I think I feel another WOFF session coming on

Great stories this morning :

Fullofit: A WOFF's P ilot's greatest Fear : Running out of Nurses before running out of the War.

Raine: The scraps in the Air seem to be getting deadlier as the war progresses.

Keith Cunard Mallory
LT, Rfc MC
B Flight Commander
29 Sqn, Ablee , France
DH-2's
5 Kills



OCT 11, 1916.

Ahhhhhh, The Amis have a words for it. Getting Ripped Off.

Morning Security Patrol: 4 a/c found and chased around 2 Roland Types till they dove away and we lost them. We had 1 pilot Wnd,

Line Patrol: The Sqn had 7 a/c up, Spotted 2 Albatross Scouts low. Dove on them. I got off 1 drum then reloaded amid the turning a/c. I was able to drop on the tail of one as he chase my wing mate.
I put a whole drum into the blighter at close range with strings of 9-10 shots. Fire and smoke thick Black smoke I pulled up to admire my handiwork as an A Flight a/c sneaked up behind and fired. He was awarded my Kill. Bugger !

Gawd, doesn't that s**k! Great pics!

Raine, congrats on the latest set of victories. Time to make more room beside that V.C. for more bling. Speaking of which, congrats on the DSO! That is one handsome medal. Toby should know-got one of his own. So, how do you explain the latest medal recipient still flying a BE12, while the rest undeservedly are hot-rodding in the new SPAD's? It feels like Collins is being punished for something.

Lou, many thanks to the Gong Fairy for the latest hardware. Toby's chest never felt more full. Congrats to Lazlo as well. He must have a feeling of happiness, da?

Carrick, that was despicable! Such travesty. Were you able to have a little chat with the git after landing?

Aha! More gongs for our two heroes of the Empire! Congratulations, boys. Raine, you never cease to amaze. Deadly in a Morane, Deadly in a B.E.12....god help the Bosche when you get given a proper scout!! And a big congrats to HarryH for bagging Gong #1! More to follow, I'm sure

Now, then. I'm doing my darnedest to catch up to present day, but I am pretty far behind

Sous. Lt. James B. Fullard,
Esc. N.124 'Américaine',
Luxeuil, France.

September 30th, 1916.

With Kiffin Rockwell’s death, the heart of the Escadrille had been torn out. None among us had demonstrated the fighting spirit quite like he. Luf was torn up most of all - he had been involved in Rockwell’s last battle against a two-seater and had seen the tracer round enter through the cockpit. A moment later, our fearless comrade was spinning towards earth, killed by an explosive bullet.

Luxeuil had become bipolar. In the French camp, a dour, smileless attitude. “Get on with the job at hand”. They quietly sat in the mess among themselves, drinking and talking in low voices about their raids and the new German machines. Seldom did they talk about their lost comrades. In the English camp, elation. Particularly from the Canadians. One of their own had shot down no less than four Zeppelins over England and had won the Victoria Cross. Toby Mulberry had also continued his scoring ways, and had gone North of Twenty victories. In the American camp was sorrow infused with resentment. A hunger for revenge.

On September 30th, I had my chance.

We were ordered to destroy a balloon at Bois de Metzeral. Grimly we shared in our cigarettes, the collars of our flying coats turned up against the rain as our aeroplanes were loaded with the clumsy Le Prieur Rockets. “Hell, I don’t like this weather,” Bert Hall muttered. “No good flying through all them hills in this weather”. Rumsey spat on the ground and flicked his rain-drenched cigarette, which he couldn’t keep lit. “No use complainin’, Bert”. Ever the optimist, Blanchon gave us a tired smile. “Monsieurs, on days like this I just think of the hot cup of cocoa waiting for us when we get back! For me, nothing in this world tastes as good”. I patted him on the back with a smile. “Right you are, Constantin. Let’s get to it”.

We made our way through the ice-rain towards the lines, muttering curses to the weather as we did so. Eventually, the large, clumsy bovine shape of the Balloon rose over the Alsace hills. I turned our flight towards it, but as I did so, three familiar Razor-like shapes appeared over the top of it - a flight of Fokker Monoplanes. In an instant the three Germans dove down towards us, and our flight broke. As I turned back, I watched as Nieuports and Fokkers became entangled in a mess of twists and loops, descending into the valley between two large hills. Quickly I singled out one Eindecker. I was astounded at the ease in which my new ship could follow the monoplane, and within moments he was spinning away desperately, his wings riddled with holes. I followed, but watched as two Nieuports quickly got behind him. Looping back, I searched for a second target. Spotting a second Monoplane, I dove onto his tail and fired two short bursts. The German wobbled in the air for a moment, before rolling onto his back and flying into a hillside, coming to a sickeningly abrupt halt as his machine crumpled.

I turned back to the fight in time to witness an Eindecker spiralling down and turning for home, his engine trailing a thin line of oil. Diving again, I fired another burst and watched in grim satisfaction as the German fell into the trees below, crashing in a ball of flames. With the Eindeckers cleared, I defiantly turned back towards the balloon, firing off the rest of my ammunition into it. Flames snaked out of the fresh bullet holes, and a moment later the sky was illuminated by a great explosion.

We returned home feeling a deep satisfaction, having made the Bosche pay for Rockwell’s death. However, it was as we circled to land that I realised we were only four machines - we had been five when we set out. Shortly after landing and switching off we realised that Blanchon was the missing man. Tensely we drank our cocoa in the mess, watching as Blanchon’s slowly cooled. The hours passed excruciatingly slowly.

In the evening, I was awarded all three of my claims. My tally stood now at Fourteen. There was no celebration. We didn’t care about confirmed claims - we wanted news of Blanchon. No news came.



Little bit late, but here's Fullard's end-of-september stats:

Saturday morning, good coffee, toast and orange marmalade, and a ripping good yarn from Wulfe. Doesn't get better.

Congrats on the hat trick!

Very good story and great achievement, Wulfe!

I’ve got a lot of catching up to do as Drago languishes in the hospital. Great stories and congratulations on the Gongs! Best of all, Wulfe is back! You have been missed.

Wulfe, glad to have Fullard back. Now all you have to do is get him back up to speed. Mulberry can’t mention his friend for the fear of disturbing the time-space continuum. Who knows where he will be on 12 October?
Otherwise, congrats on the successful multi-claim. It seems easier here in Alsace, innit?
Fingers crossed Blanchon shows up at some point and claims his cold cocoa.


12 October, 1916 09:45 morning mission
Luxeuil, Alsace Sector
3 Wing RNAS
SC Tobias Chester Mulberry
27 confirmed kills

The dark clouds announced change of season and clearly stated to be prepared for more rain and gloom. The area west of Colmar needed scouting and to that effect ‘A’ Flight was being prepared for a recon flight. The ‘B’ Flight would accompany and provide cover in eventuality of a Hun encounter.
The sodden turf of the airfield slurped and sloshed underfoot with every step. Low hanging clouds prevented the sun from making its presence known and it was under this tenebrous sky that the operation commenced. One after another each of the four Strutters took off. Toby was looking forward to ascending above this murk and be greeted by the warm rays of the sun, but first they would need to form up at the initial waypoint further down south. He looked back to check on the rest of the flight. Colburn was already formed up on his port side. Armstrong and MacLennan were dilly dallying further back. It was then that he noticed something else. A smouldering crater at the base of the forest near the aerodrome. Something was up, or down in this case. He noticed tracer fire and knew it wasn’t good. Somehow a flight of Fokkers came down without being detected and was harassing the ‘A’ Flight. Toby turned back and circled above the action. He wasn’t sure if the Strutter below was being chased or was the one doing the chasing. He finally saw an opportunity and swooped down to relieve the two-seater. The Eindecker was a tough bird and took a lot of punishment before coming down with a trail of vapour following it. Toby watched from above as the German pilot attempted a emergency landing. He nearly made it, but the machine bounced and overturned. There would be no Archie claiming this one.

YouTube Link

Wulf: Good going.

HarryH: Thanks

Fullofit: I had a late night " CHAT " with A Flight in the mess. As some one said : " nothing like a good piece of Hickory "

Keith Cunard Mallory
LT, Rfc MC
B Flight Commander
29 Sqn, Ablee , France
DH-2's
5 Kills
Oct 12, 1916.


B Flight had the duty. We Escorted 2 C-4.s as they bombed an enemy Aerodrome Houplin ? Hit some sheds the rest fell wild. All our 4 DH-2's home safe no damage The chaps stayed close to the C-4's a Cake Walk. Later, The C.O. announced that because of the disturbance last night , The personnel on Flight Status will no longer have Fruit-cups after the evening meal and the Victrola will be off limits till further notice.