Huzza! Another great read Raine. Doesn’t it give you a start when you look around find yourself all by your lonesome? With me it’s usually followed by a hail of bullets!

Rene Deassult Lavasure
Adjutant Esc N 68
Manancourt,en Vermois,
Verdun France,

4 e/a confirmed
4 e/a Un-confirmed
1 Trk confirmed

Missions: 151

Hours: 39.0

Capt James Arthur Collins, VC, DSO, MC
19 Squadron RFC
Spad VII
Fienvillers, France

298 missions
289.57 hours
22 victories, 43 claims

I kinda agree that Lazo should get an Albatross.

I have a secondary WOFF Pilot I fly off and on in Jasta 9 . He is a Halb driver and I remember all the : If I had an Albatross, I could have got him times. Finally I hit the Pop up screen saying new a/c Only to get a Halb D-III while everyone else had Albatross D-II's a sad day.

Rene Deassult Lavasure
Adjutant Esc N 68
Manancourt,en Vermois,
Verdun France,


Dec 31, 1916.

Another letter from Cousin Jules, seems hes seeing action. His Destroyer was sent inshore to Scout for the Blockading Squadron and got chased away by an Enemy Cruiser . Their torpedoes fired but all missed or failed to go off so made smoke and ran like E' LL. taking a few small shell hits.

https://giphy.com/gifs/navy-ships-u-tube-d8Du6OuSehRWqZhhwC/fullscreen

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MFair, congratulations to Frank on drawing first blood, not only for himself but for the squadron to boot. Outstanding.

Raine, isn’t it nice when you can meet a Roland and not get shot down, and how much better when you can actually force one down and capture it intact! Well done, Captain Collins.

Carrick, Rene’s cousin Jules appears to be having a rough go of it. Not many places you can go to get away from such abuse when you’re in the middle of an ocean.


Congratulations to all our DiD pilots who managed to survive 1916. I’ve a hunch things won’t get any easier in 1917. And to all those who had brave DiD pilots that went off to join the Choir Invisible this year, condolences.

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Stats for my pilot through the end of December, 1916:

Captain Randolph Arvid Swanson, VC DSO MC&Bar CdG
37 Squadron RFC
Stow Maries, England
B.E.12 HD
292 missions
428.76 hours
48 victories, 82 claims

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Lou, Carrick and MFair, there really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking - I highly suggest you try it.

MFair, this is quite the feat to get the squadron’s first kill. Congratulations are in order. Frank is on his way to become the leading ace. Well done.

Raine, finally an upper hand over those dastardly Walfisches. Perhaps this should become the standard tactic when battling those Rolands; let your wingmen soften them up for you. Congrats on the victory and getting the Hun drunk.

End of the month stats:

Tobias Chester Mulberry
DSC & Bar, DSO
Squadron Commander
RNAS 8
Vert Galand, Flanders Sector
Sopwith Pup
43 confirmed kills, 89 claims
209.42 hrs
161 missions

Sgt. Frank Lucas
54 RFC
Bertangles West
Dec. 31, 1916

Yesterday was a total weather washout. All flights had been cancelled for 48 hours. In light of Lucas's victory the day before the Major gave the men permission to go to Ameins. Sears and Lucas, the two Sergeant's in the lot had caught a ride with the rest. Once in Ameins they had separated from the officers. They made the rounds of the town and Frank had had enough food to founder a horse.
"Lets see if we can find us a cup of coffee, friend" he said to Sears. Sears had had too much to drink and was agreeable to anything. "Sure, I could use it" Sears said as he stumbled forward. They rounded a corner and there was a small cafe. "Cafe Jericho'" said Frank. "Looks like a nice quiet place to get a cup". He held the door open for Sears to make sure he could get through without falling down. "Easy there friend" he said as he helped Sears into an empty chair.

Shortly a woman came over to the table. "Good evening Gentleman". Frank looked up at one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. He was acutely aware of how sad her eyes looked. "How do Mam. You woudn't happen to have a strong cup of coffee would you?" Frank asked as he looked into her eyes. The woman did not say anything but stared at Frank. Frank looked at Sears and then back at the woman. " Beg my pardon Mam, but is something wrong?" The woman looked at Frank for a few more moments and then turned and hurried to the kitchen. "Well ain't that a fine howdy do. She looked like she saw a ghost! I ain't got something on my face do I?" he said as he wiped his face and looked at his hand. Sears was nodding on and off. Frank looked around at the patrons and then back at the kitchen. "Please god! all I want is a cup of coffee!" he said looking at the ceiling.

In a few moments a man came from the kitchen with a tray holding two coffee's. "Mighty obliged to you friend" Frank said as he shoved one of the cups in front of Sears. He looked back at the waiter and asked, "Say, were did that beautiful creature get off to? If I'm not being too forward, does she have a name?"

The waiter looked at Frank and back toward the kitchen. "That is Camille, Sir. She is the owner of this cafe. I am her brother, Joan-Luc". Frank looked back to the kitchen and then looked up at Joan-Luc. "Well Mr. Joan-Luc. No offense to you at all but if its all the same to you, I would like Camille to wait on us" he said as he sat back and took a sip of coffee. "Good coffee by the way." he added.
Joan-Luc stammered a bit and returned to the kitchen. "What do you think that was all about friend" he said as he punched Sears in the arm. "Drink your coffee bud, we have to be heading back tonight and your going to need it." In a few minutes Camille came to the table. "Would you like something to eat?" she asked. "No mam. We have to get back to our squadron soon. Did I startle you some how?" Frank asked.

Camille looked at him. "No. Its just that your accent reminded me of someone I used to know." she said. "Well all I got to say is he is a lucky man" Frank said as he finished his coffee and stood up. "I'm mighty obliged to you Mam. That was as fine a cup of coffee as I've had since coming here." He pulled Sears to his feet. "Come on friend, we got to be gettin back." He looked over at Camille and said, "I hope to see you again." Camille smiled slightly and nodded her head. "Come on friend" he said to Sears as he helped him out the door, "I suspect we'll be up for the early patrol tomorrow.

MFair: Congrats on the 1st Victory.

RAF: Over 400 hrs flight time. Wow.

Jules ship was safe as it closed the distance to Friendly ships. The enemy ship didn't dare to pursue back towards the French Inshore Blocking Sqn of 6 Curzairs + 2 Ironclads and 7 more Destroyers of the 31st Flotilla.

Fullofit: At 10000 meters over NML in Winter with a shorn ? would be breathtaking on the Cold side of things.

Raine congragulations on the Roland. They caused the lost of many of my good pilots + a few Aces thrown in.

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MFair, I am really curious to see where this one is going to lead. Nicely done!

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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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Rene Deassult Lavasure
Adjutant Esc N 68
Manancourt,en Vermois,
Verdun France,

Jan 1, 1917.

Bad weather continues.

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1 January 1917
Stow Maries, England

Dud weather and no flying for 37 Squadron, which was probably best as celebrations to ring in the New Year had gone far into the wee hours of the morning. Captain Swanson had paced himself with the drinking, though not quite as well as he’d planned. The throbbing in his head above his right ear, where the Hun bullet had slammed into his skull months before, was making this first morning of 1917 somewhat less than cheery for him. However, his second cup of ginger tea was helping, and he knew from experience that the pain would subside by lunch. There was another pain also making itself known, and not just to Swany.

“So there I was, with mud and manure up to my arse, looking into the sky at one of our aeroplanes flitting by, and I suddenly realized how much cleaner it must be to fight this bloody war from above. So I put in for a transfer to the R.F.C. the next day and as luck would have it they were in need of observers and…”

It was 2nd Lt. William Bishop who was droning on in the officers’ mess, for the umpteenth time to anyone who would listen, about how it was he came to be a pilot. Captain Swanson had already heard the story himself and it had been interesting, (the first time), to learn of the fellow’s war service in the Canadian Mounted Rifles, his transfer and stint as a G/O, the crash that bummed his left knee and sent him home to Ontario to recuperate, (while Swany and countless others endured the slaughter of the Somme push), and his eventual return to England for flight training and current posting. However, any story, no matter how interesting it might be, wears incredibly thin after countless tellings to the same audience.

“Billy”, Captain Swanson interrupted in an intentionally loud tone.

“Swany - yes?” Bishop responded, a somewhat annoyed look on his face at having been cut off mid-story.

“Shouldn’t you be over at the mechanics’ sheds right now getting better acquainted with da internal workings of your mount’s V-12? Remember what I told you about not wanting to find yourself forced to land somewhere unfriendly without any hope of being able to sort out a simple engine problem on your own. Could save that arse you managed to pull out of the manure from ending up in a Hun prison camp.”

“We’re in England, no chance of that here”, Bishop smirked. “And I certainly don’t imagine I’ll be flying one of these cows in France. It’ll be Pups or Nieuport scouts most likely, and they have rotaries. Besides, I’m already familiar with the 4a engine. I worked in the R.E.7s in France as an observer you know and…”

“Oh I’m sorry, did you think I was offering a suggestion, Lieutenant?” Swanson’s ire was up. While he tended to treat the men in his command as equals, he did not take kindly to those who acted as if they knew it all or were somehow above doing the dirty work when it was required. He also didn’t appreciate Billy’s recent attitude: as if he’d learned all he deemed worthwhile from his Station Commander and could now pick and choose what he would or would not pay attention to.

“Are you ordering me to the mechanics’ sheds, Sir?” Bishop asked incredulously.

“I wasn’t, but I am now”, Swanson replied as he took a long sip of his ginger tea.

“Very well Sir”, Billy replied, “I will go and get RE-acquainted with the 4a V-12, as per your order.” The 2nd Lieutenant bruskly left, slamming the door on his way out.

An immediate round of applause broke out from the remainder of the lads in the mess with the general consensus being reached that if they’d been forced to suffer through yet another retelling of Billy’s epic they would not have been responsible for their actions.

Swany laughed, pointing out that Bishop did seem an alright sort but that he could benefit from a healthy dose of humility. The man certainly had confidence to spare - and ego. He’d likely go far, provided he survived the Hun. Of course, if the men of 37 Squadron had to listen to that story of his one more time he may end up a casualty of friendly fire.

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Jan. 1st
Bertangles West

Frank and Sears were stirred from their sound sleep at 7am. While Frank was washing his face he asked Sears if he was ok for a flight. Sears sat on the edge of his cot rubbing his head. “Do I have a choice?” he mumbled adding “Why did you let me drink so much?” Frank finished his wash and patted Sears on the back. “Your a grown man friend. Far be it from me to tell a man what he should and should not do!”

As they left their hut the two pilots were treated with blowing snow and bitter cold. “#%&*$#! We’re going up in this” Sears growled. Frank just laughed. After breakfast and briefing their mood was not much better. A deep offensive patrol from the Hun airfield of Brayelles to NE of Muncy. Right smack in the middle of 3 Hun airfields.

At 10,000 feet it was bitterly cold! Frank would slap one hand and then the other on his thigh trying to get some feeling back into it. If he let his head stray outside the windscreen it felt like getting hit with buckshot. He was miserable. Over Brayelles, Archie opened up on them in earnest. At least it took his mind off the cold. They patrolled for over an hour and headed home. Now Frank wished he had not drank so much coffee. He had to piss bad. When he had asked about this situation he was told “aim for the stick and hope for the best. He took the glove off of his left hand and opened his flight suit. “Sonofabitch is drawn up like a turtle!” He said to himself. He would have to hold it.

As Franks machine touched down at Bertangles, he jumped from the machine as soon as it stopped and started to relieve himself. Major Horn walked by and seeing the spectacle said in a loud voice, “Don’t you have any decency Lucas!”

“Not at the moment Major! Beg pardon Sir but it was this or my flightsuit!”

Congratulations on the medal Fullofit. As you are flying commando I hazard to guess where you pin all that bling!

Lou, I think I will enjoy how Sway handles the squadrons resident braggart.

Rene Deassult Lavasure
Adjutant Esc N 68
Manancourt,en Vermois,
Verdun France,


Nothing to do so painted a self portrait of myself with Claudine posing a la commando for over an hour. I think the finish painting is very nice.

Excellent work, Rene. Which one is Claudine?

MFair, a nice "wee" story for Hogmanay

Lou, good story. Putting Billy in his place showed strong leadership. Would expect nothing less from Swany!

Fullofit, Congrats to Toby on another medal!

Raine, sorry I missed your episode. Just went back to read it (I'm behind). Congrats on the Roland and well done for looking after Ernst sportingly