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#4523283 - 05/31/20 04:40 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) ***** [Re: Raine]  
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JJJ65 Online cool
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Czech Rep.
Raine, you are "da man". I am looking forward to see your next progress. My own experice as Gotha choffeur was never long lasting

#4523305 - 05/31/20 06:50 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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MFair Offline
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End of month stats
Sgt. Ainslie Harris
40 Squadron RFC
Bruay Aerodrome
Nieuport 23 Lewis
3 kills. 5 claims
33 missions. 31.8 hours


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!
#4523306 - 05/31/20 07:13 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Beanie Offline
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Canterbury, Kent
Enjoying the stories - keep them coming - cheers


'Der Fuchs'

BOC Member
'BWOC BWOC BWOC'
#4523319 - 05/31/20 08:55 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Ajax, ON
Lou, and thank you for that precise piece of instrumentation. Without it Toby may as well blindly toss the bombs overboard. I’m wondering if it would be possible to make the pitch and roll indicators working to keep the kite level while aiming.
Congrats on the promotion. Looks like Swany will be flying a desk from now on, especially with his new aerodrome so far from the Front. It looks even further than St. Pol, where Mulberry is stationed. Did you have anything to do with all those trucks parked there by the aerodrome?

Thanks MFair, but like I said, it would not be possible without Lou’s magical bomb sight.

Carrick, what can I say? If you’d stayed longer at the HQ’s kitchen, you’d probably not fit into the cockpit anymore.

Beanie, like you, I enjoy all these stories as well.

31 May, 1917 06:00
St. Pol-sur-Mer, Flanders Sector
RNAS-2
SC Tobias Chester Mulberry VC, DSC&Bar, DSO&Bar, Ld’H, Od’L, WS
12.5 confirmed kills

It was a quiet arty spotting jaunt north of Ypres. Everything went well while being looked after by a pair of Pups from RNAS-4. On return, they were jumped by a Kette of Albatroses. One of the Huns with a yellow tail latched onto Mulberry and gave him a rough time of it. This German was particularly skilled and would not let Toby anywhere near his own tail. The two aviators seemed to be locked in a constant chase, occasionally coming very close to each other. It was only after a protracted battle that the Boche realized he was left alone by his kameraden in the unfriendly skies and made the mistake of exposing his six while retreating. Toby took full advantage of the situation and eliminated the troublesome Hun. The rest of the flight rejoined shortly and the “yellow tail” was promptly confirmed.

YouTube Link



"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."
#4523321 - 05/31/20 08:59 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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MFair Offline
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Lou, they should dispense with the temporary and make it formal. Swany deserves it.
Carrick, another close one bud!

Sgt. Ainslie Harris
40 RFC
May 30th, 1917

Harris and B flight were returning to. Bruay following an uneventful afternoon patrol. He was the 1st one in the landing pattern. It was a beautiful day the best in over a week. As his Nieuport floated down to the field, some mechanics were running out on the field waving madly. Harris could not see anything amiss. At any rate, he was already too low and had cut his engine. The a Nieuport bounced once then settled into a roll. The next thing Harris knew he was jarred against his straps and hanging upside down in the crumpled machine. Mechanics were instantly on him pulling him out from under the Nieuport. Once free he got to his feet. One of the mechanics spoke excitedly, “We tried to Warn ye Sergeant. The Huns just put a hole in the field not five minutes ago!” Harris was a bit shaken but ok. “Well I found the sonofabitch!” He exclaimed.

At debrief the CO did not have kind words for Harris. Harris knew he should have looked over the field before landing. He swore never to make that mistake again.

May 31st.
B Flight had to wait for a flight of 23 squadrons Spads to take off before they took to the air. Another fine day. The new machine seemed to handle well. As the flight neared Menen, Harris spied two Albatros above them. Mannock signaled the attack at the same time. One came down on Harris but he was ready and they immediately went into a circle. Harris slowly gained the advantage and hit the Hun with a burst. As he tried to disengage Harris got no more than 30’ from his tail and let loose a long burst. He saw the pilot slump over and the Albatros took a nosedive to the earth. As he climbed up he saw his flight forming up and joined them for the rest of the patrol. No sooner had they resumed the patrol when two more Albatros fell on them. Harris got into a twisting fight with one. This fellow was good but a quartering head on pass let Harris spray him from stem to stern. As Harris turned around the Albatros was flying straight and level. He closed the distance and started firing in short bursts. Pieces flew from the Hun machine and soon it burst into flames. Harris pulled up. It looked like a falling torch. He saw his flight in the distance and joined back up. Again Mannock dove. Harris stayed high as he knew he was running short on ammunition. His flight made short work of the low flying enemy machine. They all rejoined and returned to Bruay. Harris was careful to make sure there were no pot holes to land in this time.

After an uneventful afternoon patrol the CO told Harris that only one of his claims was confirmed. “Well Sir, I reckon I’ll trade the unconfirmed one for the machine I messed up yesterday. Deal?” The CO’s eyes narrowed, “You are dismissed Sergeant.”


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!
#4523322 - 05/31/20 09:14 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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Ajax, ON
MFair, so that’s why they keep circling the airfield when they come down to land. Harris isn’t making friends with his C.O. He’d better think of something to get in his good graces and soon.
Congrats on your latest victory.


"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."
#4523334 - 05/31/20 10:54 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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MFair Offline
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Fullofit, that’s the thing I love about this sim. Once you think you have seen it all, there is something new. That’s a new one to me. Rolling along, fat dumb and happy, congratulating myself on another day survived and boom! I had to go to an external view to see what happened. I hesitated hitting enter after control Q. Almost expecting to die!

I think the Major likes Harris, he just doesn’t know what to think of him yet.


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!
#4523354 - 06/01/20 12:15 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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Fullofit  Offline
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Ajax, ON
Yup, WOFF makes you pay attention throughout the entire mission, all the way to the end, until your crate stops rolling, until the propeller stops spinning, until the fat (yet somehow gorgeous) lady stops singing that Wagner tune. Stay vigilant my friend.

End of month stats

Squadron Commander Tobias Chester Mulberry, VC, DSC & Bar, DSO & Bar, Ld’H, Od’L, WS
RNAS 2
St. Pol-sur-Mer, Flanders Sector
Airco DH.4
285 missions
332.48 hrs
126 victories
228 claims


"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."
#4523366 - 06/01/20 02:38 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Francois Gaston Pistache
Chevalier de France,
Sergant, Esc 90
Mix N-23 and N-24 Bis
Toul, Verdun.

May 31, 1917.

4 victory's
1 unconfirmed
1 Pending
Hours: 8.3
Missions 18

#4523376 - 06/01/20 05:39 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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epower Offline
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Lederhosen - I like the original Willi skin. It's a combination of Paracelsus and Hollywood. Willi is a true gentleman and sportsman, letting Oliver live as he did. If they both survive the war, Oliver is buying. Willi's new CO, on the other hand, is a bit of a pill to put it politely.

MFair - Ainslie is like the Honey Badger.. If you don't know the rest of that, Youtube is your Huckleberry. Love the crossover with young Lindley.

Fullofit - Toby continues his reign of terror. Gott help Germany if he ever gets into a Bristol fighter.

Lou - Finally Swanny has a squadron. Congrats! Long overdue. Will he find that having is the same as wanting? Enquiring minds, etc.

MFair - Goodness man! Those enormous holes in the Earth, seek and avoid. Yikes! Glad Ainslie came through without any knocks. Touch and go there.

Carrick - Francois' time to kill ratio is top of the mark! As for his uncanny knack for finding friendly mademoiselles, he remains in a class of his own.

All - Oliver and his human driver have each been quite reckless of late. This can't continue. Zeus of the Aegis will only weigh a man's soul so many times before it comes up wanting.
___________________________



1 May 1917 cont’d
54 Squadron RFC
Flez, France

Writing this at 0300 so it’s technically May 2nd. Awoke just now, strangely alert after a mere 90 minutes sleep. Parker will be in shortly to wake the others. I think I’ll keep them company in the mess, then have a lazy morning. Major Horn was right to take me off this morning’s show. It’s a relief, to be honest. I need some time. If I flew today, I’d probably get myself or someone else killed.



2 May 1917
Somewhere in France

When Parker came to wake the others for morning patrol, I had him bring me some tea and biscuits as well. While they met with Major Horn for the mission briefing, I dressed then joined them in the mess for a boiled egg and some toast.

Hadrill, Cole and Grevelink all looked at me askance.

Cole finally broke the silence. “You’re an odd one, Winningstad. First day in two weeks you get to sleep in and you’re awake before the rooster.”

C’est la Guerre, my dear Monty.” I took another bite of toast.

Theirs was the only patrol going out until the afternoon and the mess was deserted, the pilots of 54 Squadron were all snugly abed.
“What’s the morning fare?” I asked.
“Airfield,” said Hadrill between bites. “Fontaine-Uterte. Early start. Hit them at first light while they’re still in bed dreaming of the frauleins.”

Wing thought that up all by themselves. Unbelievable. F-U was an advanced landing ground. No value at all and no Jastas based there. What were the Brass Hat imbeciles thinking? Airfield attack with a single Vickers. This was a bomber job, at least until they gave us proper weapons. The problem was that the Pup was too light to carry any real ordnance. At least they weren’t flying Nieuports.

No sign of Pixley. I looked at the clock. He was cutting it rather fine and that wasn’t like him at all.

I walked down to the flight line with the three of them. Eos, rosy fingered, stirred in the East, illuminating the low fleecy clouds over Hunland. It was still cool, but I could feel a change in the air. The glass was rising. Today would be warm if I was any judge of weather. Pixley was there standing by his plane. Even with his flight helmet on I could see he wasn’t well. He looked almost green and rested a hand on the fuselage to steady himself.

“Come to see us off, have you? I’m touched,” he said.

“It’s the least I could do after dragging you out of bed for the dawn patrol.”

“Someone has to keep the wings on,” he replied with a smile.

I’m never going to live this down. If I live, that is.

Pixley removed his map and took a step toward the four of us. He wobbled, his eyes briefly rolled back in his head, then he recovered his balance, dropped his empty hand to his knee and vomited profusely. I rushed forward and grabbed his arm before he fell. Hadrill had his other arm and we walked him back toward the hangar where his rigger and mechanic took hold of him and sat him down on the grass. He looked up at me and handed me the map.
“Up all night. Something I ate. You take them.” he said. Then he fainted dead away into the arms of his mechanic.

Oh Bloody Hell.

“Well that’s torn it,” said Hadrill.

“No it hasn’t. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Sprinting to our hut, I grabbed my leather flight jacket, gloves, helmet, and goggles, then raced back to the flight line. I arrived gasping for breath.

You’re in deplorable condition, Oliver. Time to begin training again.

“Gods, man! You look almost as bad as Pixley.” exclaimed Gravelink

“Very funny. The sun will be up soon. We need to go.”

“You don’t have your Fugs, you’ll freeze,” he said.

“We’re going in low. I’ll manage.”

I was halfway into the cockpit when I noticed something was off. This wasn’t Pixley’s usual Number 12 with his initials RGHP on the fuselage. Foot still in the metal step I leaned back to look at the tail number. B1712, the dreaded spare. Not an encouraging sign. As I plunked down in the seat, I found myself sitting half a head above the windscreen. The rudder bar felt awkwardly close. It took me a moment to understand. Pixley stood 5'6" to my 6'0". No time to change things now.

Archie barked at us like a small yapping dog as we crossed the mud at 5000 ft. My feet were cold, but constant wiggling of my toes kept the blood moving just enough to prevent them going numb. I led us down from the northwest, past the field, then we reversed and started down to attack. Archie continued his yapping.

#%&*$# #%&*$#! A hot blast exploded in my left ear, staggering the Pup. The anger of an unexpected blow sheeted my mind in red. Something jabbed the left side of my upper back, in the thick muscle below the shoulder. It was like being hit full-force with one of Mr. Fairbairn’s training sticks – a sharp slapping sting of excruciating pain that spread from the point of impact like a blast wave and then was as quickly swept aside by overwhelming rage.

[Linked Image]

Feeling returned to my left arm and my hand still worked on the throttle and mixture levers. I continued down to the target.

[Linked Image]

We made one pass then I turned toward the lines and home. I was inexplicably alone. Where were the other three? My le Rhone clanked ominously, and it was only then that I smelled the petrol leaking out in a trail behind me. 30 seconds later the engine coughed and quit. This is not happening! I hammered my fist against the windscreen coaming in impotent fury. Stop your d*mn bawling, Oliver. Think !

I could see the layout as I glided down. I’d never looked closely at the Hindenburg Line before. The primary defenses appeared completely impenetrable. Three huge wire belts fronted two layers of reinforced trenches, strong points, and MG nests beyond count. Two thousand yards behind this main line of resistance was a third line of trenches and artillery emplacements protected by yet more wire belts. The forward observation outposts comprising the first line were set 600-1000 yards in advance of the main defenses, connected by a single communications trench.

[Linked Image]

Down the length of this forward line, which sat along a low ridge, clumps of earthworks stood 300 yards apart, just behind a long, thin stretch of wire. Were those the forward observation posts? There was no long fighting trench along the ridge, just a few tendrils of connecting trench here and there. Were there passages underground? From the air it was obvious that this most forward line was either in an unfinished state or it wasn’t meant to stop an advance. It looked freshly shelled and parts of the trench appeared to be in rough shape. I wondered at that. This was supposed to be a quiet sector of the front. Maybe this zone’s sole purpose was to maintain watch on British lines and keep any patrols away from the defenses 1000 yards to the rear.

[Linked Image]

I’d cleared the main lines now, but I didn’t have enough altitude or airspeed. I wouldn’t reach No Man’s Land. Holding the Pup on the edge of a stall I crawled as close to the forward trenches as possible, then released her into a shallow glide and set down near a short ribbon of frontline trench about halfway between the mounded earthworks. She slid between two shell holes then spun all the way around to a stop as the undercarriage bit deeper into the earth.

I popped the watch out of the instrument panel, stuffed my maps into my jacket and climbed out of B1712. There was an ugly jagged tear right behind the left side of the cockpit. Wood bits were poking out of the hole and it felt like one was in my back. The machine stank of petrol and oil. I had splashes on my leather flight jacket but not enough to worry me. Duty required that I should burn the Pup, but I hadn’t seen any Huns yet. Were they sleeping? Where were they? It can’t end like this! I could run for that shell hole and hide. Don’t be an idiot, Oliver. They’re going to find you. Burn the Pup. I stooped down and fumbled in my pocket for the matches.

“Halt!!”


Looking up I saw a hunched down German soldier, Mauser leveled from the hip and pointed directly at me. He looked at me, then the match I was holding and shook his head.

Nein! Nein!

He was crouching down being out of his trench and silhouetted on the ridge. I slowly extended my right arm and let the match fall out of my hand. Hands rising in the air I stared at him and tried to smile. He looked scrawny, nervous, and terribly young. His dirty face couldn’t conceal the fact that he wasn’t yet shaving. Who knew what I looked like?

Raus!

He gestured with his rifle for me to stand clear of the Pup. Easy now, don’t give him a reason to shoot you. I slowly stood up and moved toward him. We were at the top of a low ridge. Off to my right the slope ran gently down toward no man’s land and British lines.
My young captor seemed very eager to get both of us into cover, exposed as he was. He gestured urgently toward a partially collapsed comms trench where an older German waited.

Kommen sie hier,” said the older man calmly, gesturing with his hand.

I hopped down into the trench, wincing as my flight jacket tugged at the bit of Pup stuck in my back.
The two searched me, confiscating my clock, and maps. The older one examined my notebook. He was 40, perhaps older, with a craggy face, twirled handlebar mustache, and piercing pale blue eyes that looked out from the surrounding crows’ feet. The Iron Cross adorned the left side of his heavily muscled torso. This one was an ancient campaigner, and bore watching.

“Tagebuch,” I said as he flipped through it. He hadn’t noticed the tiny pencil slipped down the spine

“Hmmf,” he snorted then handed the notebook back to me.

“For you, ze var ist over,” he said. At least that’s what it sounded like.

The two Huns marched me south toward the main communication trench that would take me to the rear and the end of my war. This forward sector looked thinly held, almost deserted, unless all the Boche were snug in their underground shelters. Walking past a dugout entrance, I caught a whiff of tobacco, garlic and what smelled like cooking meat. Some yards past the dugout, I saw what appeared to be a ramp cut right up through the face of the outer trench wall. Wood framed the opening and earth covered over the top of it. No doubt it was invisible from the air. Extending beyond the opening looked to be some kind of low passage under the wire, just large enough for a man to snake through on his belly. A sally port for patrols?

I was playing the role of defeated prisoner but my mind was racing wild. I might have a chance. The younger man was easy meat but the old veteran would be a different story. I needed time to think. I stumbled and made an exaggerated groan as I reached for the wound in my back. I fell to one knee and affected nausea. Looking up I saw the Old One’s eyes suddenly go wide, then he was gone, racing with astonishing speed for the dugout. He was through the entrance just as the shells landed. The blast knocked me off my feet and a whirring piece of metal tore past my head. At this hour? Morning hate? No, they were shooting at the Pup!

The youngster crouched down by the trench wall, arms wrapped almost protectively around his rifle. Seeing the look on my face as I rose to my feet and charged, he tried to bring his weapon to bear but I arrived too quickly. My right hand deflected the weapon aside as it discharged. My left palm smashed into his nose. Like a bullfrog jumping I drove into him and slipped around to his back. Legs wrapped around his waist and my heels driving into his groin, I had the Japanese strangle on him. I’d never practiced this full force. Mr. Fairbairn forbade it, insisting it was too dangerous. My left arm in a triangular choke squeezed his neck and my left hand held tight to the right arm driving from behind. I counted to 5 after he went limp, then set him down as gently as I could. I grabbed the Mauser, hurled it out of the trench, then sprinted for the ramp opening.

The sally port was a half-round trough cut under the bottom part of the wire barrier. I wormed my way through as quickly as I dared praying that it wasn’t a dead end. Past a second turn in the passage my leather flight jacket snagged Oh my God I’m stuck. I’m a dead man if I get hung up here. Fighting the rising panic I slid my hand down to the offending pocket and worked the flap free of the wire barb. No Man's Land was just ahead. I squeezed out of the worm-tunnel and ran. Machine guns barked at me from off to my right. As a rabbit in flight through the tall grass reveals itself only at the top of each bound, so I bounced on, shell hole to shell hole, while the morning hate rained down. I fled blindly, expecting at any moment to be shot in the back or torn apart by a shell. Neither happened. The MG bullets whined around me but that was all. When the shelling stopped a short while later, I was well into NML but had no idea how far. I dared not rise up for a look for fear of revealing my position and catching a bullet in the head.

Now what? Wait until nightfall and pray they don’t find me. The mad rush of excitement had passed and my back started to throb. I rolled onto my right side trying to get comfortable and keep and it out of the mud. Something was definitely stuck in there. My left ear continued ringing. A column of black smoke rose to the east. B1712’s funeral pyre. The artillerymen had done their work well. The perfidious machine was destroyed at last and that was some consolation.

As predicted the day was hot. The sun rose higher above the hole and I grew parched. The pool of green water at the bottom of the hole stank, taunting me. Nothing to do but wait until nightfall. Would they send a patrol out tonight? I took out the notebook and recorded the events of the day. I made a sketch as best I could of the frontline where I’d been held. Fading in and out of consciousness, my mind was trapped on a feverish carousel. I’ll never see her again. I’d be safe now if I’d turned for home. They will catch me. It’s my own fault. I’ll die a prisoner. They will kill me. I’ll never see Eliza again.

The lurking fear, so conspicuously absent after I’d landed both wingless Pups, I found I’d merely postponed. It arrived as a mature hurricane, fed now by my desperate plight. Thankfully, nobody was there to see me unmanned and shaking in my hole, trying desperately to calm my unquiet mind, and failing utterly.

I woke to the sound of her voice. “Come back to me, Oliver.” It was dark. A flare exploded off to my left and began its slow descent. How long had I been asleep? Were Huns stalking me now? Time to move. I poked my head above the lip of the shell hole and saw nothing. I probably wouldn’t see them until they were on me. Just go Oliver. I was in one of the wider stretches between the lines. I had long way to travel so I started crawling hole to hole. Exhausted, mind addled from fear and lack of water, I crawled on, seeing in every shadow or dip in the terrain, a Boche patrol come to murder me. It was nearly 0200 when I approached what I believed to be British lines. I could see a line of sandbags, maybe 20-30 yards away.

“Ew the ewl is that?” A voice hissed

“It’s me.” I replied hoarsely.

“Ah Ah. Fritz is a funny man. ‘ave wittle wuv from ‘o Mr. Miwls.”

Mews? Mills? Caesar’s Ghost! A bomb! I curled into a small ball and burrowed like a manic rat against the side of the shell hole. Three simultaneous blasts erupted near me but not so close as to spray me with splinters.

“You must be the cheeky bugger from that Kite pwaying hide and seek with the Boche.”

“Who’s the cheeky bugger now? What are you about tossing a bomb in my ear?” I rasped at my tormentor.

Keep your knickers on, I’m just pwayin’ Father Christmas to any Boche might be about. You’re my new best mate, Yank. You be winnin’ me a Fiver when aws said and done. Nobody thought you’d make it.”

“How’d you know I’m a Yank?” I croaked.

"Wewl, you ain’t speaking in received pronunciation are you? You don’t sound wike the Boche so you ain’t South African. No ewongated pre-rhotic vowews wike a Canuck, so you can say ‘about’ properwy. There’s naught for tensing before a nasaw consonant ‘an you don’t bugger up the monothongs wike an Aussie or Kiwi might, so as Mr. Sherwock ‘Olmes says, I ewiminated the impossibiwl ‘an took what’s weft: Yank Q.E.D."

Who is this man? His voice kept coming from slightly different spots.

“More wuv from Miwlsy coming up. When the bombs go off you grab your bowwocks an rabbit your arse in ‘ere at the doubwle quick. Savvy?”

“I understand.”

The Mills bombs exploding were like a starter’s pistol. I was out of my hole and running to the trench line. I leapt in heedless of where I would land and crashed against the far wall of the trench, collapsing in a heap on the duckboards.

“Bwoddy Marvewous.” said a familiar voice. I looked up and there stood an absolute giant of a man, grinning from ear to ear. He extended a massive hand. I took it and with no effort of my own I was pulled immediately upright.

I held his grip. “My name’s Winningstad. Oliver Winningstad. I’m obliged to you, Sergeant…”

“Prewett. Sergeant Thomas Prewett, second of the sixth Gwosters at your service.” he said, still grinning.

“Thank you, Sergeant Thomas Prewett. I think you may have saved my life. Might I ask your help removing this jacket, please?”

The big man held my flight jacket as I wriggled out of it. Whatever was sticking into my back, caught most painfully on the leather for a moment then I was free.

Prewett saw my shoulder pips and was suddenly taken aback. “I didn’t know you were an officer, sir. I was just ‘avin some sport with you out there amongst the ‘uns. They been creepin’ up to our wines makin’ a nuisance of ‘emsewlves. Rather enjoy the game. Begiuwles the tedium. Quiet part of the wines ‘ere, sir.”

“Not to worry. You’re a linguist I take it.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, sir, but I do know my dipthongs from my fricatives, as any proper speaker of the King’s Engwish must, if you take my meaning…”

He suddenly put his finger to his lips and signaled me to stay where I was, then slipped off down the trench. In a short while he waved for me to join him.

“Visitors” he whispered, pointing toward the blackness of NML. “Can you give a heave to a Miwls bomb or two, sir? If we ‘it ‘em together it’wl be such fun and we’wl send ‘em packing right quick. See the dead tree there? The ‘Boche are just weft of it. I’wl shade off down our trench then on my signal wet fwy. Savvy… sir?”

I gave him a smile and thumbs up. Prewett left me with three of his Mills bombs then moved quickly down the trench to my left. I hefted the Mills bomb. It weighed maybe a pound, not much more. I peeked over the parapet at the target hole by the tree. It was a long throw, but I felt I could make it. Three in succession would be a test but I looked down at Prewett and gave him another thumbs up. He peered over for a long time then gave me a hand signal counting down with his fingers 4-3 2-1. I pulled the pin on the bomb and threw. My shoulder squawked in protest. I sent the other two bombs down range as quickly as I could then ducked down into the trench. I could hear multiple explosions in the distance, Prewett’s and my own. I thought I heard voices shouting. The only word I could make out was “Scheisse!”

My giant friend returned. “Oh that was a cracking innings, sir! Did you hear them griping?” he asked with a quiet laugh.
“You look right knackered, sir. What say we get you a biwlet and you can meet the CO in the morning?”




#4523407 - 06/01/20 02:21 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
Posts: 4,879
RAF_Louvert Offline
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
RAF_Louvert  Offline
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
Senior Member

Joined: May 2012
Posts: 4,879
L'Etoile du Nord
.

Epower - A ripping tale Sir, just ripping! And the character of Sergeant Thomas Prewett is brill. Can't wait to read the next chapter. Also, I too enjoy the recent crossovers in the stories here.

MFair - I don't believe I have ever crashed a kite into a shell hole on the field, that's a first as far as I know. Glad Ainslie was able to walk away from it.

Fullofit - It would appear that Toby's G/O has sorted out that his gun does actually move, now someone needs to show him how to use the trigger. As for those trucks at the new aerodrome; yes, I did have something to do with it, along with pretty much everything else you see there. I even grabbed the virtual hammer and nails and helped the locals build the semblance of a French town where Estree Blanche is supposed to be.

Beanie - Good to see you dropping by. And the reads are spiffing, aren't they.

Jara - Good to see you here as well. Grab a Gotha, or any other plane you might fancy, and join us.

.

#4523423 - 06/01/20 06:33 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Jul 2014
Posts: 2,105
Raine Offline
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Raine  Offline
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Joined: Jul 2014
Posts: 2,105
New Brunswick, Canada
Epower – another great Boys' Own Paper yarn! Great writing… And I can't wait for what's coming up.

Fullofit – actually, I wonder why Toby bothers with a gunner? Couldn't he just install a nice sound system back there, kind of like the guys that put the mega blaster in the trunk of their rice rocket?

MFair – now that was a shock! I wasn't aware that the dynamic damage shell holes actually create an obstacle! Well done, OBD.

Jara, Beanie – let me second Lou's sentiments. You're welcome to join us in the mess. But you know who buys the drinks, right?

End of month stats (stats for the Gotha pilot will follow when I catch up)

Feldwebel Hans-Dieter Vogel
EK2
Jasta 26
Bohain, France
20 missions
13.57 hours
4 victories
10 claims
Currently injured

#4523425 - 06/01/20 06:52 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
Posts: 4,879
RAF_Louvert Offline
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
RAF_Louvert  Offline
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Senior Member

Joined: May 2012
Posts: 4,879
L'Etoile du Nord
.

Raine, you must not have gone back enough pages, I was sure you'd say something about Estree Blanche. biggrin

.

#4523430 - 06/01/20 07:51 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
Posts: 6,659
carrick58 Offline
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MFair: Sometime back a Shell Hole took out one of my pilots along with trees, the hard ground an a truck, and Fences. but was D.O.A. for mine I say, a ruddy inconvenient place for a hole in the way of a flying machine.

#4523434 - 06/01/20 08:17 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: RAF_Louvert]  
Joined: Jul 2014
Posts: 2,105
Raine Offline
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Raine  Offline
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Joined: Jul 2014
Posts: 2,105
New Brunswick, Canada
Originally Posted by RAF_Louvert
.

Raine, you must not have gone back enough pages, I was sure you'd say something about Estree Blanche. biggrin

.


Oh wow! How did I miss that? It's a beauty, Lou. I can't wait until this, Robert's Phalempin, and Vert Galant are bundled in the Combined Facilities Mod. Woff just keeps getting better and better!

#4523449 - 06/01/20 10:44 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2012
Posts: 729
Maeran Offline
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Maeran  Offline
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Posts: 729
UK
The balloon was somewhere nearby. Lindley could see the sprawl of Lille ahead, and he knew the observation balloon was between the city and the lines.
Black puffs of smoke filled the air.
“Archie doesn't want us here,” Lindley thought to himself.
Up ahead, Patrick's machine dived.
Lindley pushed the stick forward. Nearly vertically below them, the balloon hung in the air. The rest of C flight was strung out in the dive ahead of Lindley as they tore downward. The balloon was smoking as Lindley closed in. His Vickers gun flashed and he pulled back over the top of the gas bag. As Lindley opened up the throttle again to speed away, the smoke gave way to flame as the balloon burned.
23 squadron's new aerodrome lay south of the mining town of Bruay. Great conical soil heaps were dotted around the landscape. As Lindley circled to land, he saw that repair crews had filled round craters with soil. The Hun had visited again for their daily hate.
A Nieuport had struck a hole and now lay upside down on the landing field. The Spads settled down away from the crash as a huddle of air mechanics stood around the machine and discussed how they were going to right it.


That afternoon, Lindley was strolling along the hangars that lined the road to Houdain. He spotted the sergeant pilot that had approached him the other day. The 60 squadron pilot was looking over a Nieuport scout.
“Hello, sergeant. Harris wasn’t it?” Lindley called in greeting. “That’s a lovely kite you have. May I have a look?”
“Feel free,” Ainsleigh Harris replied as he pulled on a landing wire speculatively.
“No wonder you thought my Spad looked heavy. This Nieuport looks like a work of art in comparison.” Lindley took in the squared tail fin and the lower wing planes that were so narrow they seemed to not be there at all. “So delicate. I imagine you can’t throw this around much.”
“You sure can,” Harris assured him. “It's the manoeuvrability that gives us the edge on those Hun Albatros.”
“Speed.” Lindley said flatly. “That’s what you want. And our Spads have speed aplenty. We can hold a dive too. You should have seen us stooping on our balloon this morning.”
Harris laughed, “What good is speed if you can’t get into position to shoot a plane down?”
Lindley nodded with a sheepish smile, “a fair point. I haven’t had a sure shot yet. In defense of the Spad, the error must be mine.”
“Well, if you’re interested in what I’ve learned, I'm happy to pass it on, “Harris offered.
The two continued in this way for some time, and Lindley was determined to apply his lessons on the next sortie.

The enemy did not cooperate with Lindley’s plan. Their patrol took C flight weaving through gathering clouds. Robert couldn’t see much more than his own flight, let alone any targets to shoot at.
At Bruay again, Patrick was filling in his report in one of the small sheds that were used on the aerodrome as field offices the rest of the flight sat outside in the sunshine.
“So who’s that sergeant you’ve been getting pally with, Lindley?” O’Grady asked.
“His name is Harris.”Lindley replied while idly kicking at his flight boots. “He's an American. Interesting chap. He drove an ambulance before getting his wings. I was thinking of inviting over to dinner, actually.”
O'Grady grimaced, “a sergeant in the officer’s mess? It’s bad enough that we let you in, old boy.”

That evening, the officers of 23 and 60 squadron assembled for dinner.
Major Tilney, the CO of the Nieuport squadron, stood at the door.
“Gentlemen, gentlemen!” Tilney called to still the hubbub of conversation. “We have a new addition to the officers' ranks. I know that he will be familiar to you, and I'm sure that you will all agree that his commission is most deserved. May I present, second lieutenant Harris!”
There was an applause as the American pilot walked into the room. There was a broad smile on his face as his fellow pilots applauded and clapped him on the back.
He spotted Lindley. “Well, this is a turn up for the books, ain't it?”
”Congratulations!” Lindley grinned back.

‐--------------------------------
End of May figures
2nd Lieutenant Robert Bertram Lindley
23 Squadron RFC, Bruay
15 missions 15.4 hours
3 claims, none confirmed.


So much good writing going on now, but a special mention has to go to epower. That was brilliant!

#4523454 - 06/02/20 12:42 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Jul 2014
Posts: 2,105
Raine Offline
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Raine  Offline
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Joined: Jul 2014
Posts: 2,105
New Brunswick, Canada
Maeran - wonderful vignette with the man from the Wild West. I love when these stories mesh.

Here is the May month end report for my reserve pilot.

Fw Werner Edmund Wollenberg
Gotha IV
Kasta 15, Englandgeschwader
Melle Gontrode, Belgium
6 missions
20.28 hours
0 claims.

#4523456 - 06/02/20 12:55 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Nov 2014
Posts: 3,696
Fullofit Offline
Senior Member
Fullofit  Offline
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Joined: Nov 2014
Posts: 3,696
Ajax, ON
Epower, that was one of the best episodes ever. I was afraid Oliver would have to street-fight the older Hun a la Indiana Jones and the Nazi mechanic at the base of that flying wing airplane. And then Sergeant Thomas Prewett - he definitely commands a cwack wegion and wanks as high as any in Wome. Brilliant stuff.

Lou, yes that new rear gunner finally figured out how to traverse his MG. Next step, aiming.
If you made all that then it is that much more impressive. The people of France are in your debt for building them that village.

Raine, Mulberry needs ballast, hence the live load in the back, or is that dead load? But the idea of a gramophone in the back instead sounds very appealing. Hurry up with your Gotha driver, we need to know if the Tommies will ever catch him.

Maeran, I was wondering how you are diving vertically on those balloons without ripping the wings off and then I realized Lindsey is piloting a SPAD! That explained everything. I do like the continuation of that story from MFair’s accident. Well done! Let’s see which pilot will get a bigger airplane envy.

1 June, 1917 06:00 morning mission
St. Pol-sur-Mer, Flanders Sector
RNAS-2
SC Tobias Chester Mulberry VC, DSC&Bar, DSO&Bar, Ld’H, Od’L, WS
12.6 confirmed kills

The four Pups from RNAS-9, who until now we’re providing cover for Toby’s flight, we’re gone somewhere. Toby had more important things on his mind than trying to figure out where his escort went. The Menen aerodrome was coming up and Mulberry was preoccupied with keeping his crate steady. Then, all of a sudden and without any warning, a salvo of Spandau rounds hit his wings. Toby instinctively rocked his plane to throw the aim of his attacker. He saw an Albatros fly by and gave his D.H.4 full beans to follow, immediately forgetting about bombing the aerodrome. The Hun was hit and from the looks of it rather seriously. He did not put up much fight after the initial attack. Toby continued his onslaught and in the end watched the German machine spiral down and hit the ground near the field. Mulberry made sure there were no more Boche machines around to surprise him, lined his plane up with the hangars and released his bombs. He quickly crossed the lines after that and landed back at St. Pol.

YouTube Link



"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."
#4523551 - 06/02/20 09:03 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
Posts: 6,659
carrick58 Offline
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carrick58  Offline
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Posts: 6,659
Francois Gaston Pistache
Chevalier de France,
Sergant, Esc 90
Mix N-23 and N-24 Bis
Toul, Verdun.

June 2, 1917.

5 victory's
1 unconfirmed

Mon Deiu , My last Victory is confirmed and I became the 2nd Ace in Zee Esc. Posted to a Aerodrome flyover near Mars la Tour inside Zee Bosche lines. Our flt of 5 a/c ran into 3 Hostile Scouts Albatross D-II's by the look then a few shots and they dove away.

Attached Files CFS3 2020-06-02 13-33-32-28.jpgCFS3 2020-06-02 13-37-37-73.jpgCFS3 2020-06-02 13-37-58-83.jpg
#4523561 - 06/02/20 11:48 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Nov 2014
Posts: 3,696
Fullofit Offline
Senior Member
Fullofit  Offline
Senior Member

Joined: Nov 2014
Posts: 3,696
Ajax, ON
Carrick, congrats on another confirmed kill!

2 June, 1917 04:45
St. Pol-sur-Mer, Flanders Sector
RNAS-2
SC Tobias Chester Mulberry VC, DSC&Bar, DSO&Bar, Ld’H, Od’L, WS
12.7 confirmed kills

The Hun from Menen aerodrome has been confirmed.
As Mulberry’s wingman dropped his bombs on the German positions north of Ypres, he saw 6 or 7 dots growing in the distance above him. The Huns have cut off his escape route and were coming straight for them. Their escort consisting of four Strutters from RFC-45 were already getting into a position in the rear. Toby barrelled forward as the Germans flew overhead. He continued to check his six but there was no charge coming from above. How could they not have seen him? Then they were there, just clearing the trailing edge of his wing, still going on their merry way. He realized the Strutters posed a greater threat to them and that’s who they’ve targeted. He counted the dots again. One was missing. Toby immediately made a turn and the “missing” Boche appeared nearly on top of him getting ready to fire. The Hun had to be of some renown, his kite was painted red with a black motif on the sides. Their dance had begun and the two pilots willed all the performance from their machines. Toby came out on top of this duel, with the Boche spiralling down just east of De Blankaart.

YouTube Link



More Huns showed up and Toby pounced on one from above but seeing another Boche closer and the other one already being chased by a Strutter, he quickly switched his targets and began to pursue. Toby nearly collided with this black Albatros when he caught up to him. It didn’t take long before the German machine was shot down in flames south-east of the lake.

YouTube Link



He then proceeded to the nearest airfield, but before he could land he chanced upon another Hun returning home. He dove on him and shot him down in flames as well. That was the score for the day.

YouTube Link



"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."
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