Julius adapted quickly to the life of a frontline pilot. He had missed being in the thick of the action with his pilot comrades, despite the dangers and stresses their duties involved. Julius’s first impressions of Boelcke as a fair and friendly commanding officer turned out to be accurate. Boelcke was greatly admired by everybody in the Staffel, and he seemed to have no enemies either among the flying personnel or the ground crews. Boelcke liked to downplay the significance of military rank in his fervent desire to make his Staffel function like a well-oiled machine under all circumstances. However, there was never any question about his position as the unquestioned leader of the Staffel. In Boelcke’s case, familiarity never seemed to breed contempt. Julius could only marvel at the great charisma of his Staffelführer and do his best to learn from his example.
Boelcke wasn’t the only interesting personality of Jasta 2. Two other pilots made a particularly favourable impression on Julius. One was Leutnant Manfred von Richthofen, the handsome and athletic Prussian nobleman, who had quickly begun to flourish as a fighter pilot under Boelcke’s tutelage. Richthofen was somewhat more distant and harder to approach than Boelcke, but he fully shared the latter’s almost fanatical determination to succeed in air combat and to perfect the flying and tactical skills of the Staffel. Another person of note was Leutnant der Reserve Erwin Böhme, who was almost in his forties and thus the oldest aviator of Jasta 2. Böhme had led an interesting life, and Julius greatly enjoyed hearing about his pre-war adventures in German East Africa. As a student before the war, Julius had dreamed of becoming a colonial official in the German Empire, so he was eager to ask Böhme questions about life in Africa. The older man kindly accepted the role of mentor to Julius, and in fact seemed to enjoy the attention he received from him. Of all the pilots of Jasta 2, Böhme had the closest relationship with Boelcke. The two men were often seen together on the rare occasions when Boelcke was not fully preoccupied with his duties.
After a few days of active service in Jasta 2, Julius had fallen ill with a nasty cold. Boelcke had given him a couple of days off for recovery. On 28 October, Julius was feeling well enough to assist the duty officer on the ground. The day was rather misty, and the sky was overcast, but Boelcke had nevertheless kept the Staffel busy with several patrol flights over the front. It was already late afternoon when he took off with five other Albatros scouts for a final mission of the day.
***
Julius was helping the duty officer with some paperwork when he heard the familiar sound of several Mercedes engines approaching – the scouts were returning, and much sooner than they had expected. Julius stepped outside with the duty officer. One Albatros was already landing. To their horror, they saw the machine approaching much too fast. The pilot attempted to control the machine, but after a few bounces, the plane turned over on its upper wing and glided to a stop some distance from the buildings lining the field. Julius rushed to help the pilot with the duty officer and some mechanics. It was Erwin Böhme. He was shouting furiously, struggling to get out of the cockpit. “Boelcke! He's crashed! We must go to help him!”
Miraculously, Böhme seemed more or less unharmed as the men finally managed to pull him out safely. Meanwhile, other planes of the flight were landing. Julius could see that Boelcke’s plane was indeed missing from the formation.
“What happened? Where’s Boelcke?” Julius tried to calm Böhme down by grabbing his shoulders, but he quickly squirmed free of Julius’s grasp.
“I collided with him, and his wing was damaged, and we saw him go down behind our lines near Favreuil! Quickly, there’s no time to waste! We must take a car and get over there, right now!” Böhme was frantic and close to panic.
More mechanics and other ground personnel were gathering at the scene, and a big crowd was forming around Böhme’s overturned Albatros. Then Richthofen arrived, still wearing his flight suit. He took control of the situation. “Stay calm, everybody! Mechanics, take care of Böhme’s plane. Erwin, are you alright?” Böhme nodded, despite shaking visibly. “All right then, we need to take a car and try to reach Boelcke. He went down near our battery at Favreuil. Julius, you can drive, right? Then go get our staff Mercedes and meet us here, we need to move out!” Julius replied affirmatively and ran over to the shed where the cars were being kept. With the help of a mechanic, he started the car and drove over to the waiting Richthofen, who jumped on to the front seat next to Julius, with Böhme taking a backseat with another pilot.
***
The roads were muddy, but Julius drove to the front as fast as he dared. Approaching Favreuil, the terrain turned from ordinary French countryside into bleak and desolate landscape devastated by the war. They had to stop once to ask for directions from some Feldgendarme officers. Eventually they managed to find the right road leading the rear area of IV. Armee-Korps, on whose sector the battery near Favreuil was located.
An artillery sergeant stopped them as they were approaching the position of the battery. Clearly, something unusual had happened in the area. Many more soldiers were crowded together than was normally the case so near the frontline. Fortunately the fog had now thickened, which offered them additional cover from enemy observation. “You must be looking for the plane that crashed a while ago. Head straight in that direction, you can't miss the spot.” The sergeant motioned for Julius to keep driving. “Is the pilot safe? Do you know how he is?” Böhme asked frantically before the car moved on. The sergeant was silent for a while, and then answered: “Just keep driving, and you’ll see.” This ominous reply in no way lessened the fears of the four pilots in the car, but they could do nothing but continue.
Soon they reached the place of the crash. As they got out of the car, they could see several artillerymen gathered around Boelcke’s Albatros, which did not seem to be very badly damaged. But then they saw a body resting on a stretcher nearby. It was Boelcke. A medic approached them. “We found him in the cockpit, unconscious. He…” The medic looked sad and paused for a second before continuing. “It seems he hit his head and was killed by the impact, probably instantly. He wasn’t wearing a helmet or a safety belt.”
The four pilots approached the body. It was definitely Boelcke. There was a bruise on his face, but otherwise it seemed as if their commander was only sleeping on the stretcher and could awaken and get up at any moment. Böhme knelt next to his friend, and then began to weep, no longer able to control himself. Richthofen looked deeply shocked. Julius felt himself paralyzed and could only stare helplessly at the body.
“He… he’s Boelcke, isn’t he?” The medic asked in a quiet voice, which was enough to break the spell over Julius. He turned to look at the man in the eyes and replied with almost a whisper.
“Yes, he was Boelcke.”
The misty air was eerily still.
"Upon my word I've had as much excitement on a car as in the air, especially since the R.F.C. have had women drivers."
James McCudden, Five Years in the Royal Flying Corps
#4495712 - 11/02/1903:11 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
[Re: Raine]
Fantastic stories Gents! Hasse, you write some great stories. James and Swany are still up to their necks in glory and the American boys are knocking them down in droves. The giant pilot of Germany is an ace now. Lots to catch up on folks.
Fw. Ernst E. von Everhardt. Ugny airfield, Flanders. Nov. 3, 1916
Ernst had led a privileged life. The son of a rail baron in Munich, he had had the best life could offer. He excelled at academics and sports. At 5' 11" tall and 175 lbs. he was a in top shape. In 1912 he had enrolled in the Academy of Fine Arts in Munich much to his father's dismay. There he met Franz Marc who would become one of his dear friends. He, along with Marc, August Mack and Gabriel Munter had formed "Der Blaue Reiter". They were a group of expressionist painters who challenged the norm. The war had changed all of that. Marc and Mack had joined the army in a fit of patriotism and Ernst had followed. With his fathers connections he had been accepted in what was now the Imperial German Air Service. His friends from his art days were both dead. Franz Mark was to be pulled from front line service to paint camo for the army but was hit in the head the day before leaving. It had hurt Ernst tremendously to find his dear friend was dead. Mack had also been killed. Their deaths had filled Ernst with hate for everything not German.
He was happy with his first posting. As it had rained his first two days there, it had given him time to get to know some of his mates in Jasta 6. The CO, Josef Wolfe seemed a good man. Fritz Loerzer, the Flying Pastor as he was called was already a friend. Even though Ernst, being a free thinker was not especially religious, he enjoyed the debates with the man. His favorite mate in the Jasta was Carl Holler. He was called the "Senger Flieger." He had been a folk singer before the war. He and Ernst enjoyed discussing the arts well into the night.
As the four machines from the Kette cruised at 8000' near Bapaume on his first flight, all were in a somber mood, The great Boelcke had been killed. If such a great man and pilot be killed, what chance did they have? Ernst was slapped out of his thoughts as he saw Wulfe waggle his wings and point down. He rolled over into a dive. Ernst followed and knew it was the enemy but still could not see them. He spotted the two BE's a few thousand feet below. Ernst followed the three machines, a few hundred feet ahead. They opened up and one of the enemy machines rolled over trailing smoke. Ey made a pass on the second and pulled up. Ernst steadied himself. As the enemy machine grew larger he opened fire in short bursts as he had been taught. He could see the observer swinging around to reply. And reply he did. Ernst knew bullets were slapping his machine even though he was not really aware of hearing nor seeing them. He was aware of his own bullets striking home on the enemy. He pulled up and over the machine as it veered off. Looking around he could not see his mates and rolled in for another pass. On the second pass, the BE shuddered in the air and fell like a rock into NML just on the German side of the trenches. Ernstt raised a fist in the air as he pulled up. Words cannot describe the feeling of elation. He found his Jasta on the way home and was the last on to land.
Wulfe came over to shake his hand. "Well, it seems the painter can also shoot!" he said. Ernst replied, "Thank you Sir, nothing to it really!" Wulfe looked at the 3 bullet holes a foot behind the cockpit. "Not this time Herr Everheardt. Not this time. It is a dangerous game, as you will soon see! But for now, lets go and celebrate our victories!"
Last edited by MFair; 11/02/1906:28 PM.
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!
#4495757 - 11/02/1907:59 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
[Re: Raine]
Raine, yet another pilot learns to respect the Walfisch. They are tough nuts to crack. I suggest keeping well below those beasts and only pull up to fire a few rounds, then come back down deep below again. As to the balloon ... well, good thing eyebrows grow back. Congrats on the Albatros. Looks like the Gong Fairy may soon visit Collins again on his twentieth victory. Fairies like to do that.
Harry, Fokker Zweideckers you say? Who knows? Maybe they’re not so bad. Mulberry had a run in with two of them before transferring to Verdun. None survived.
Carrick, looks like Gigi is new at this. Perfect opportunity to give her a helping hand. Glad Rene is on the mend.
Hasse, that was something! The fall of a hero. You could make a movie just from this report alone. Well done. Too bad Julius had so little time with the great man.
MFair, welcome back to the fray. Looks like there was unfinished business with that Albatros from your last Flieger. Ernst is making a name for himself right from the start, but if he doesn’t take more care, he may not last till D.III arrives. Please do be careful.
The past few days have been miserable. The rain prevented any sorties from being carried out and Mulberry’s nipples were raw and itchy. In addition small amounts of foul smelling fluid continued to secrete from them. Toby had no one to discuss his problem with. Hopefully his condition will improve with weather. Could all of this be caused by exposure to cold while up there in the air?
"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."
#4495800 - 11/03/1902:39 AMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
[Re: Raine]
Hasse, wonderful account of the loss of the great Boelke. I'm wondering how Julius and MVR will get along. So far so good! MFair, it's delightful to have you back with your new man, Ernst. I wish him good fortune and good hunting! Carrick, welcome back from hospital. I trust your virtue is as intact as your skin.
Here's the latest from Collins…
An Airman’s Odyssey – by Capt James Arthur Collins, VC, DSO, MC
Part Seventy-Nine: In which I have a joyful reunion and a sad loss
November 1916. We were well into the second year of war. An end to the fighting seemed farther away than ever. The fighting south of Bapaume staggered on, and although the lines were somewhat more orderly and a few more miles of shattered village and inundated field were ours, the cavalry had not yet been let loose to roam green spaces beyond. The month began with a day of driving rain – a long-anticipated relief. For the first time since my arrival at 19 Squadron, I was able to get a drive into Amiens together with the special pass needed. With me I brought the whole flight: Orlebar, Child, Sheeley, and Hoskins. Hoskins was still kitted out with a BE12, so had done most of his patrols with B Flight, which was similarly equipped.
It had been months since I had been inside the Salon Godbert, and we made a beeline there for lunch. It was just as I recalled, still rotten with red tabs and staff wallahs. But the sole, as always, was excellent, served with potatoes lightly roasted with the crusting of cheese such as I have not tasted outside of France. Sheeley bought the first champagne, and Child the second. Naturally, that meant that Orlebar and Hoskins had to follow suit. I was feeling flush and paid for the food. We fairly staggered out of the place after a couple of hours. Each went his own way after arranging to rendezvous at the train station at seven. We figured that would allow time for a good dinner before meeting the tender back at the station at nine-thirty. When last seen, Child had linked arms with Sheeley and Hoskins and was promising to make real men out of them. I shuddered to think where they would spend the next hours.
I wandered the shops and found a store that sold English books. I picked up the latest Wodehouse and a new novel by HG Wells. Around three-thirty I felt like a spot of tea, and turning the corner, ran into a little estaminet whose sign told me it was the Café Jericho. Taken aback by this coincidence, and overwhelmed by memories of my old cowboy friend from the Curtiss School in Toronto and from 3 Squadron, I went in. To my shock and total delight, I was welcomed by the proprietaire - none another than Mark Jericho’s former fiancée, Camille. She had used the money Mark had left her and the money I gave her (after selling Mark’s horse) very wisely. Her business seemed to be booming. She introduced me in broken English to her brother, Jean-Luc, who was her pastry chef, and a fine one at that. She made the best pot of tea I’d yet had in France and served me some particularly excellent almond tarts. We did not have much of a chance to talk as she rushed from table to table. I told her I would try to get back as often as possible and left twenty francs under my saucer when I left.
At the appointed time to meet the others, I found only Orlebar. He was half-cut and I was not particularly hungry, so I told him to be sure and find the missing men and get them back safely, as I was going to try to bag a ride back to Fienvillers. I went into the station and, as I had hoped, found a cluster of pimple-faced new pilots waiting for a lift to the replacement pool at Candas. Within twenty minutes I was aboard a tender bouncing towards home.
The weather cleared around noon the following day. Child and Sheeley, who had caught the ride home the night before by staggering in front of the tender as it pulled away the train station, joined me to shoot up a rail yard east of Arras. Before takeoff, Sheeley promised to share the secrets of the underside of Amiens. We managed a single strafing pass at the rail yard and did little damage, before three nasty Albatri intervened by diving on us. My first hint of the attack came while circling about a mile south of the target and waiting for the others to form up. I caught a glint of sunlight against the wing of a Spad in a hard bank low over the farms to the west of the yard. I turned to investigate and spotted the hostile aircraft. One Spad was up around a thousand feet and seemed to be holding its own with one of the Albatri. But the one I had seen was a treetop level with two Huns on his tail. He was jinking one way and the other but neither Hun was deterred. It had to be Sheeley. At full throttle I raced for his pursuers, still a half-mile off. Just when a long-range shot seemed possible, Sheeley’s Spad wobbled and nose-dived into the ground, vanishing in a ball of flame and earth.
Blind anger seized me. The trailing Hun turned towards me. I sprayed it with a long burst and, ignoring him, made for the one who had got Sheeley. This fellow was really good. As soon as I got my sight on him he kicked his Albatros about and began to poke holes in my machine. I used my speed to separate from the Hun and turn about. Or so I thought I did. But the German had anticipated my move and came straight at me, firing his twin machine guns. The fight continued like this for five minutes. Fortunately, my opponent’s partner must have headed home. I managed only once to get a burst into the Albatros, but it must have done some good for a minute or two later the Hun broke away and headed north-east toward Douai. My Spad was slightly faster than his machine and I was able to close to three hundred yards and fire several long bursts after the Hun. It did not seem to affect him in any way. Finally, I chose not to push my luck any farther and made for home.
I sat by the window that evening, hoping to see a Spad land or a tender approach across the field. But I knew better. Poor Sheeley had lasted barely three weeks.
On 3 November I went with Orlebar to attack a rail yard east of Vimy Ridge. We never got there because as we approached the Bois de Robermont, still fifteen miles west of Arras, we saw three Halberstadt scouts apparently alone on our side the trenches. Orly and I climbed to investigate. Two of the Huns dived to meet us while the third ran eastward. It was a heart-pounding time. Never before had I seen a Halberstadt handled so well. I did manage to get a couple of bursts at him, and might have succeeded in downing him, but suddenly I was startled by the pounding of a machine gun directly behind. Rounds tore into the canvas of the Spad’s fuselage and wings. An inner strut on the right wing was partially splintered. I kicked my machine about and glanced behind but could see no one. More bullets hammered into my Spad. I dropped into a spin and descended from four thousand feet to less than one thousand feet in seconds, gingerly levelling off with the throttle well back. And yet again my unseen attacker fired a burst into me. This time, however, I spotted him – a blue and green Roland. God knows where he came from, but I guessed that the three Halberstadts must have been his escort.
The Spad was no longer handling well and I struggled to keep it level. Yet the Hisso kept it steady hum and I made it full throttle for the field at La Bellevue, only two or three miles away. The Roland must have given me up for dead as he turned away and headed east.
I was back in Fienvillers by two without my machine. A new Spad had just arrived so I was able to lead Orlebar and Child later that afternoon on a distant offensive patrol to a Hun aerodrome near the town of Ham, south of Péronne. After my morning’s experience I was not too keen on this show. Nonetheless, we made it there without opposition and even shot the aerodrome up a bit. Still, the day’s excitement was not yet complete. Three Halberstadts approached from the south and dived on us as we were crossing the lines. We each had a partner and mine was not too difficult. I was able to get behind him and fire a damaging shot. He headed east and I quickly closed behind. My next burst killed the pilot, I believe. The Halberstadt put its nose down and dived into the ground behind the second line of German trenches. Unfortunately, no one was about to witness the kill and it remained unconfirmed.
"The Halberstadt put its nose down and dived into the ground behind the second line of German trenches."
I was back at Fienvillers forty minutes later. I skimmed the trees and settled the Spad onto the clay and stubble. The Ack Emmas were pushing several BE12s about outside the A Flight shed. How long would it be until we had a complete squadron of machines in which one could fly and survive? More selfishly, how long would it be until we had another flight or two of Spads to share some of these long and dangerous patrols?
#4496012 - 11/04/1909:15 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
[Re: Raine]
Fullofit, I dare not ask! Carrick, I might have stayed a bit longer. Raine, great story as always. How is Camille looking these days! That was a great addition. I sure do miss that man.
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!
#4496022 - 11/04/1910:27 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
[Re: Raine]
Rene Deassult Lavasure Sgt, Esc N 68 Manancourt,en Vermois, Verdun France,
Nov 4, 1916
Patrol enemy side of the lines: I led a 3 a/c as we dove on a flight of Bosche machines. A swirling Bee hive of turning zooming a/c all firing at each other. Down we went from 4000ft to the deck, I got off 82 rds of 303 cal and maybe got a hit. As we chased them , ground fire started up so I called it a day and shot off the recall flair. All 3 N-16's had holes in them, but the e/a had been driven back to Hunland.
Last edited by carrick58; 11/06/1902:27 AM.
#4496024 - 11/04/1910:34 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
[Re: Raine]
Carrick, who did you buy those tennis rackets from? Roland Garros?
Raine, too bad about Sheeley. I guess he was better at ping-pong than at his controls. A sombre reminder that the SPAD is not invincible. On the other hand I’m glad you sampled some of Camille’s tarts, but stay away from her doughnut. I’m pretty sure the centre is overflowing with filling. It could be messy.
MFair, if you won’t ask, I won’t tell.
"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."
#4496030 - 11/04/1911:32 PMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
[Re: Raine]
Fw Ernst Everheardt Ugny, Flanders November 4, 1916
The mess was lively last night as the Jasta celebrated its two victories from the day before. Holler, the "Singing Flyer" was in top form with his folk songs. It was a great time but Ernst retired early as he was not too fond of drink. A glass of wine was enough for him. The quarters for the pilots was a near by farm house. It was not much but was warm and comfortable and Ernst was exhausted.
At 8am Ernst was up with Ey, Loerzer and Holler to patrol the lines east of Cappy. It was a miserable day with the rain and cloud. Ernst huddled as much as he could behind the windscreen of the Albatros. As the four airmen were forming up southeast of the airfield they were attacked by at least 2 BE's. Ernst easily got behind one and sent it to the ground near the field. He looked around to saw Anti Aircraft bursts to the SW and pursued. As he got closer he could see Loerzer and Holler pursuing the enemy. Long before he reached them he saw the BE go down in flames. As the 3 craft formed up, Ey signaled to return to base. "They must be low on ammo" thought Ernst. As they turned toward Ugny Ernst could not believe his eyes when another BE dove down on the three. He quickly countered and was behind him. After 4 bursts the upper wing collapsed and the machine hit the ground in a cloud of smoke. As he pulled up, Holler and Loerzer were waiting for him. They landed at Ugny a few minutes later. Ey was waiting for them. He had taken some hits in the engine in the first attack and landed.
The smoke was still rising from the wreck of Ernst's first victim not 200 yards from the field. Wulf came up to them and congratulated the flight on "a great show." He turned to Ernst, "Well Herr Everheardt, Thats two for you. Your Englishman from yesterday was confirmed just now!"
Wulf laughed out loud. "Two! The man now has 3 because he just sent another one down about 3 miles from here!' Wulf looked at Ernst, "Excellent, that is some fine work Herr Everheaardt! You have only been here 2 days and already trying catch up with the great Boelcke." Ernst was at a loss for words. "Lets go inspect your victory" Wulf added. At that the airmen walked toward to smoking wreck.
There was not much to see except a tangled mass of wood and canvas. The ground crew had laid the pilot out and covered him with a blanket. Ernst knelt by the lifeless body and lifted the blanket to uncover the English flyer. Ernst's first reaction was that he looked peaceful. It also struck him that he looked very young. Loerzer knelt next to him and started praying.. "You can pray for the dead if you wish" Ernst said as he lay down the blanket and rose to his feet. He walked over to the wreck and cut the serial number from the tail section. "This will look good in my room" He said. "Its a little drab at the moment.
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!
#4496035 - 11/05/1912:09 AMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
[Re: Raine]
MFair: I got them at a Large discount in price from the Blarmy OFFers Club. When they fell apart on the Tennis Court , I figured it was safer at the Front. Otherwise . I would have to face the Nurses.
#4496036 - 11/05/1912:23 AMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
[Re: Raine]
Joined: Nov 2014 Posts: 3,696Fullofit
Senior Member
MFair, Ernst is on fire (not literally) and another great entry for the young Flieger. Congrats on latest victories. Looks like there are numerous opportunities for target practice in your neck of the woods. If I were you, I'd expect a visit form he Gong Fairy soon. Just don't shoot her down out of habit.
MacLennan in ‘A’ flight was dragging his feet behind the ‘B’ flight. Why would they even organize an arty-spotting party in this weather anyway? Toby was getting antsy with clouds surrounding them on all sides. It was a perfect spot for an ambush and the attack could come from anywhere. This time, however, Mulberry was wrong or lucky, or both. Instead of being on the receiving end of an ambush, they were the ones dishing it out. They’ve spotted a lone Roland returning from his mission, unsuspecting, oblivious to what was about to happen, threading the tops of the cloud cover. The ‘B’ flight stalked and attacked the surprised Walfisch near Avillers-Ste-Croix. Toby fired the first volley but Colburn was very keen to take him out and barged in front of Mulberry. He came too hot and had to dive to avoid a collision. The enemy gunner didn’t waste any time and retaliated immediately. Toby was impressed how well trained the German gunners were. He could only think of his own old useless observer, Alford. The crack shot Roland gunner damaged both Strutters before suffering critical damage and crashing into the Queen’s Forest near the airfield. Thankfully nothing vital was hit on Toby’s machine and he was able to complete the mission. Colburn, on the other hand, had to turn back with damage to the engine.
"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."
#4496042 - 11/05/1901:29 AMRe: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018)
[Re: Raine]
![[Linked Image]](https://i.imgur.com/RC9nRTI.jpg)
![[Linked Image]](https://SimHQ.com/forum/files/19468.png)