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#4533407 - 08/13/20 02:27 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) ***** [Re: Raine]  
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Raine Offline
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Thanks for the comments, guys. Vogel's luck continues to hold...

Tagebuch of Ltn. der Res. Hans-Dieter Vogel, EK1, EK2

Jasta 26, Iseghem (Izegem), Belgium

Part 25

12 August 1917


Yesterday’s good fortune has me awake at three-thirty this morning, heart pumping and ready to go. I wash and shave quickly and walk briskly to the field where Steinmesser is good enough to provide a mug of his splendid coffee. I have spent some of the boss’s loan on Turkish cigarettes and we smoke and sip our sweet coffee while the first streaks of purple-blue-gold appear in the east. The car arrives with the others. Today I am to lead a group of six machines to meet some Rumplers over the Lys and escort them south of Arras. It will be a long flight at high altitude. The morning is blindingly clear.

Bilhardt will fly on my left. I have come to have great faith in the young Feldwebel. He has been here less than a month and already flies like a veteran. I have Drekmann on my right. On the outside, left and right, are Leutnant Dahm and Feldwebel Fruhner. Fruhner is new to the squadron. He has been flying observation machines on the eastern front and has just moved to scouts. He has come up through the ranks and was formerly a mechanic. Steinmesser has already met him and is impressed. Blume will bring up the rear.

After takeoff we form up and fly south-west to our rendezvous point. And there they are – three sleek Rumplers. At least these machines are quick enough that we are not compelled to circle and swerve about. We continue to climb as we head south, eventually levelling off at 4500 metres. For such a beautiful morning, the sky is empty of enemy aircraft. We circle while the Rumplers dropped their bombs on an aerodrome west of Bapaume. We have already been in the air an hour so we head directly home, crossing the lines obliquely toward Lille. There we leave our wards and head due north for Menen and a proper breakfast.

It is Oberleutnant Loerzer that sees them first and leads us on a dive from 4000 metres down to 2000 metres. Six fat Gitterruempfe are heading west. I pick my target, dive below it, and come up behind and below. I hold my fire until I am less than fifty metres away. The first burst hits the engine and splatters rounds around the nacelle and inner struts. The English machine sways drunkenly, leans to the left, and falls away. I watch it hit the ground north of Loos.

Another enemy machine – they are FE2s – is only about a kilometre ahead. I have time to catch it before it gets too far over, but another black-and-white Albatros dives on it and it begins to lose height, diving ever more steeply and trailing a column of oily black smoke. I fire a flare to regroup the flight and we head back to Iseghem. Fruhner and Blume each claim an FE2. Bilhardt, good old Bilhardt, confirms my FE2 when we return. That makes it an even thirty victories.

They are bringing sandwiches at noon but they will have to wait. The telephone rings and we are instructed to take off at once. Enemy machines have been spotted to both the west and to the north-east. I lead the boss, Bilhardt, Fruhner, Drekmann, and Dannhuber north-west between Roulers and the front. We are still climbing, still only at 1500 metres, when a formation of French Spads meets us head on in a dive. They are good, but unlike the last French Spads we met they are not terrifying. For a while it is a bar fight – hit this one, hit that one, duck out of the way. Finally we pair off and I have my own Frenchman. He does quite well for a while but then dives too deep and in his zoom to recover he slows down. That is when I hit him from an angle. His machine begins to trail a thin stream of white smoke or steam. It is a matter of seconds before my next burst sends him down out of control to crash just north of Dadizel. I am alone in this sector of the sky and wonder if anyone will be able to confirm the Spad.

[Linked Image]
"That is when I hit him from an angle."

Some anti-aircraft bursts near Ledegem bring me back over our trenches to investigate. I find a black Albatros circling about with a French machine of a type I have not seen before. The wings look very much like a Nieuport but the fuselage is longer and more delicate. And the thing is quicker than the Nieuports I am used to. I watch for a minute and see my chance when the black Albatros turns the wrong way. I am on the Frenchman and firing. He runs for home but does not reach his own lines before I send him down to crash.

Once again, Bilhardt supports my claim, at least one of them. His machine was damaged and he landed at Menen for quick repairs. He reports seeing my Spad fall shortly before he landed. Unfortunately neither he nor anyone else can confirm the other French machine. Still, I have thirty-one cockades in chalk next to my name on the board in front of the adjutant’s office. Oberleutnant Loerzer announces we will celebrate with a dinner at the Station Hotel.

Attached Files Kill 31.jpg
#4533408 - 08/13/20 02:32 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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MFair, it’s a bad thing to see an enemy hit your hangar, but not as bad as one of your own doing something similar.

Carrick, try not to have too much fun in Hunland. All it takes is one leaky fuel line to become a permanent resident of those parts.


"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."
#4533410 - 08/13/20 02:42 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Raine, you’re not making it easy. 31 already. That’s amazing. I have a feeling Hahn is too far behind to catch Vogel. Richthofen better take notice.


"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."
#4533430 - 08/13/20 10:33 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

Achtung!

[Linked Image]

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


[Linked Image]

Citation to the award reads as follows:

Leutnant der Reserve Zygmunt Dolf Hahn has been an example of iron will to dominate in battles in the air. Rising quickly through the ranks and destroying more than twenty enemy aircraft, his leadership and example are an inspiration to all he serves with.
Awarded the Hohenzollern House Order on 12 August 1917.



[Linked Image]

Citation to the award reads as follows:

Leutnant der Reserve Hans-Dieter Vogel has set a stellar example as a combat flyer, destroying twenty enemy aircraft in three months at the front. His courage and leadership inspire all he serves with.
Awarded the Hohenzollern House Order on 9 August 1917.



[Linked Image]

Citation to the award reads as follows:

Leutnant der Reserve Hans-Dieter Vogel has added to the glory of the Empire by his courage and devotion to duty in aerial combat. He has destroyed thirty-one enemy machines in three months, and notably destroyed five enemy aircraft on a single day on 11 August 1917.
Awarded the Orden Pour le Mérite on 13 August 1917.



You each make the Vaterland most proud.

.

#4533434 - 08/13/20 10:41 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

Congratulations to Leutnants Vogel and Hahn on their most well-deserved gongs! I returned home late last night and hustled to get these posted first thing this morning. Thank you Raine for sending along the fine write-ups, very glad you were here to keep on top of these. I am looking forward to getting caught up on everyone's latest adventures soon, as well as getting my own fellow up to date, hopefully over the weekend. Later all, out again today.

.


#4533472 - 08/13/20 02:47 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Nice reading gents. Congratulations on the gongs, or will it be condolences! Here’s hoping the curse is broken.


Fw Ivan Immer
Menen
August 11, 1917

It was the first beautiful day in a while. Ivan was eager to take to the skies. The flight took off and soon reached patrol altitude and headed south to patrol the lines near Lille. Dostler wagged his wings and climbed. Ahead and above 4 machines were diving in their direction. As soon as Ivan started to climb, his engine started coughing oil and his power was slowly going to nothing. “Dammit to hell” he thought as he hit hard rudder and dove away. He looked back and two of the Strutters were coming for him. He was in a real fix. Luckily the Strutters could not keep up with the dive and peeled off. Ivan made a dead stick landing at Menen and had a front row seat of his flight fighting with the English. He felt helpless.

There was no contact during the afternoon patrol but at least Ivan’s machine did not fail him.

August 12, 0500 hours.
Another beautiful day! Ivan’s flight was to patrol enemy lines from Menen to Lille. There was a furious barrage taking place and Ivan could feel the concussion they were so close to the lines. He felt for the infantry. He had been through a few barrages and they could test a mans sanity. At 12,000’ they started their patrol and soon spotted 2 RE’s. Three of the flight took one and Ivan and Brandwirzle, a new pilot with only 2 missions under his belt, took the other. They easily caught the slower machines and Ivan opened fire and soon saw a flicker of flame which started to spread over the whole nose of the RE. What happened next took him aback. Just as he stopped firing, the new pilots Albatros came by Ivan guns blazing. Just as the Albatros started to drop out of the sky the new pilot went to dive under it and the two machines collided in a sickening ball of canvas, wood and metal. Ivan rolled his machine quickly to the lest and when he looked back pieces of the two burning machines were falling to the earth. “Damned fool” Ivan said to himself. Ivan was alone now. His other two flight mates were nowhere in sight so he glided the short distance back to Menen. As he was coming in to land, he spotted another Albatros with a black and white striped fuselage landing at Menen. It was shot about but the pilot seemed to have full control. Ivan landed just after the new comer. As the two pilots climbed from there machines, Ivan introduced himself. The other pilot grinned broadly. “Fw Bilhardt! Jasta 26” the other pilot said. Ivan looked over his machine with the tattered canvas and said, “looks like you had a bit of a scrap today.” Bilhardt nodded in agreement. “It was a pretty good show! We knocked down a few. My engine was running badly so I thought it prudent to land here even though our field is not more than a stones throw from here. Can’t be too cautious eh!” Ivan looked over his shoulder back at the sky and back at Bilhardt, “I wish our last replacement thought so. I just watched the idiot fly straight into my kill. A bit too keen for his own good.” The two talked for a short while and Ivan said, “come with me, I’ll show you the mess. I’m sure you could use some breakfast after your scrap!”


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!
#4533482 - 08/13/20 03:26 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fw Ivan Immer
August 13, 1917

Ivan had enjoyed his visit yesterday with the young pilot from 26. As they had eaten breakfast, Bilhardt talked of his flight leader, Ltn. Vogel which rung a bell in Ivan’s head. “I met him a few days ago!” Ivan proclaimed. “Seemed to be a very nice fellow.” Bilhardt had smiled. “He is a wonderful flier and the best flight leader a man could hope for. You know he claimed 5 yesterday!” Ivan sat back in astonishment. “Five! Good lord, I have enough trouble bring down one. He must be a dead shot!”

As Ivan washed his face to get ready for the day the previous days events went through his mind. A young pilot lost On the early patrol. “He was doomed from the start” thought Ivan. Then he played the afternoon patrol. Just after takeoff, 5 FE’s were above the field. Ivan had caught them first and sent one turning away with a burst. He closed on another and was sending lead into it when Stock’s machine came past him traveling fast. “Not Again!” Thought Ivan. Stock pulled up at the last moment but his undercarriage hit the tail boom sending the FE earthward. Stock’s machine staggered but stayed airborne. With the flight scattered, Ivan slowly made his way back to Menen. Approaching Menen at 7000’ Ivan spied another FE above. He slowly pulled under it and started his climb. The Englishman never knew what hit him as it crashed to earth just in front of the trenches.

Ivan dried his face and readied himself for the mornings flight. He had 3 confirmed victories now.


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!
#4533514 - 08/13/20 07:55 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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wow, Vogel certainly has a pair of Gongs.

#4533558 - 08/14/20 03:35 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Lou, thank you so much for the wonderful selection of chest cabbage! It really adds a great deal to the immersion of the campaign.

Fullofit, I had a taste of your fast and manoeuvrable Spads (and Camels, and Nieuports) over the next two days.

MFair, great to see Ivan meeting Bilhardt like that. I love it when the stories intertwine.

Carrick, thanks for the kind words. Please be careful when low down over Hunland!



Tagebuch of Ltn. der Res. Hans-Dieter Vogel, PLM, HHO, EK1, EK2

Jasta 26, Iseghem (Izegem), Belgium

Part 26

13 August 1917


Enemy air activity has slackened and we are on standby as a result. This means a long day of tossing magazines to one another in the pilots’ hut, smoking cigarettes, and snoozing. But it does not happen that way. Shortly after six-thirty in the morning, the telephone rings. Oberleutnant Loerzer takes the call and before placing the earpiece back on the hook he is waving us out the door to our machines. Enemy aircraft are coming our way. The minutes drag on while the engines warm. Then we are off. I lead our six machines in a climbing spiral centred on our aerodrome. I do not want the enemy dashing in with their bombs while we are somewhere else.

Once again it is the boss who sees them first – a large formation of Sopwiths a thousand metres above. We climb as steeply as we dare but there is no surprising them. One by one, the English scouts dip their wings and dive on us. The fight begins, and what a fight! More enemy scouts arrive and each of us now has two Camels to dance with. It is next to impossible to gain altitude. As one machine dashes past, I climb a little before turning. But then another machine forces me to dive out of its way. Around and around we go. These fellows are smart fighters. None of them make a wrong turn. They know their little scouts are more manoeuvrable than our heavier Albatrosen and they are content to circle about and wait for the moment to strike. We cannot afford to play their game. At first it is possible to switch places with another Albatros. I jump onto one of the Camels swirling about with Bilhardt, and Bilhardt jumps onto one of my Camels in exchange. Too soon, however, the fight spreads out and my comrades are too far away for this trick to work. I alternate turning left and right. I roll and dive under our fight, hoping to zoom up and catch one of the Englishmen. They counter every move. Then finally one of the Sopwiths breaks away and heads home. Now the fight is one on one. It goes for – how long? One minute, five minutes, ten minutes? Then the other Sopwith dives away. I chase him and fire 200 rounds from long range but he takes no notice. The English “Archie” begins to fire at me and I decide it is unhealthy to wonder this far west by myself.

I turn back to our lines and climb. In the distance I see a pair of two-seaters heading west. I climb to meet them and turn under them, gradually coming up below the tail of the nearest machine. They are RE8 reconnaissance aircraft – ugly things. My first burst kills the observer and the pilot evades. Now the RE8 is at my mercy. I close for the kill, and just then I hear machine-gun fire close behind, a slow “Pop! Pop! Pop!” Three Sopwith Pups have appeared from God knows where. The dance is on again. These pilots, however, are less proficient and are unable to get a good shot away. Yet with three of them, I decide that running away might be the smartest thing to do. We are down to a fairly low level and I pass close to an English balloon position. Their anti-aircraft gunners send me their greetings. Suddenly there is a deafening bang and my Albatros is lifted high in the air and thrown on its back. I quickly right it but the controls tell me that something is badly out of true. I turn towards Menen and head home. It has been a frustrating morning.

At midday we patrol south of the river. Again there are reports of enemy activity in the sector. We find nothing and climb higher and a little west in the direction of Armentieres. Then I spot a formation of Sopwiths over the lines to our south. We approach but from this direction we cannot put the sun at our back and the enemy sees us too soon. They have the advantage of height and close on us quickly. This fight is much like the one in the morning, a wild melee that turns into scattered individual waltzes. Again I have two Camels and then one. I fight that last Camel down close to the ground and get a few shots at it then he turns and gets a few shots at me. So it continues until he breaks away and dives low over the British trenches. Finding myself alone, I climb to the east.

I see a distant fight over our field at Halluin and head there to help out. Five or six Camels are circling about three Albatrosen. One of the Camels quits the fight and heads towards its own lines. The pilot has not seen my approach and in a flash I am diving on his machine. I close to fifty metres and fire. The Sopwith, chocolate brown with a red nose, snaps up and turns about impossibly quickly. Again I find myself dealing with an expert. We circle and zoom and dive and roll but neither of us can deliver a killing blow. Then the Englishman gives up the fight. I fire at him from long range and both guns jam. I take this as a sign to call it a day.

Back at Iseghem I walk from the field to the Kasino, angry and frustrated with my lack of success. And to top it off, Steinmesser has informed me that Feldwebel Bilhardt has not returned. He was quickly becoming a good friend. I have had a good week, but now it is all turn to Dreck. As I enter the house, the other fellows are watching me, and it is no wonder. I have forgotten to leave my flying year at the field and am still wearing my big boots and leather coat. I give the adjutant my report and chafe when he tells me to stop slapping my soft flying cap against my leg. I say something sarcastic and he orders me to stand to attention. I click my heels and straighten up and apologise profusely.

“The Staffelfuehrer wants to see you in the main dining room,” he says. This does not sound good.

As I entered the dining room I am surprised by the crowd that has gathered. And then I see that General Hoeppner is sitting beside the boss.

“Ah, Vogel,” says Oberleutnant Loerzer. “Dressed for inspection, I see. You must have known that the General was to be our guest.” I straighten myself once again and mutter a polite greeting to the Exalted One.

Now the General stands and begins by congratulating the boss on the success of Jasta 26. He says something about me helping. My mind is whirring. Then he announces to loud cheering that I have become a knight of the Hohenzollern House Order. My perverted mind immediately thinks that this entitles me to empty the Kaiser’s chamber pots, but I quickly realise that it is the name of the impressive enamelled decoration I am being presented with. “Give the man a beer!” someone shouts. The General holds up a finger as an admonition for us to be patient. He says there is more to discuss.

I look about for the chamber pots.

“I have the genuine pleasure of relaying to you the Kaiser’s wish that you join the Orden Pour le Mérite.” And with that, His Excellency opens a fine blue case with a silk lining and takes from it Germany’s highest honour the Blauer Max.

Standing there in my oiliest tunic I feel like a pair of brown work boots at a white tie dinner. There is great cheering and now the beer genuinely does begin to flow. General Hoeppner stays a while and chats, but I cannot remember anything we talked about. The boss sends Driesl to fetch my boots and good clothes from the pilots’ hut. He reminds me that I must always wear my Blue Max when in uniform and helps me to adjust the ribbon properly under my collar. After a while, I make my excuses and head upstairs where I fall on the bed and sleep away half the afternoon.


14 August 1917

Another fine morning. We are to escort to DFW machines over the lines to take photographs. We never see them. Shortly after takeoff, our formation runs directly into a large group of Nieuports close to Marcke. It is another frustrating fight in which I am unable to get a decent shot at any of the enemy machines, while they outmanoeuvre us. In the end I managed to damage one of the English scouts, but it dives away and I choose not to follow. My machine has been hit several times and cannot be trusted.

Later in the day we receive orders to once again meet up with the DFWs.Our rendezvous point is above Rumbeke aerodrome. When we get there we see a gaggle of Spads leaving the area and the DFWs have either run away or been shot down. I circle about, resolved to wait at least twenty minutes before giving up hope for the two-seaters. Then I spot to larger machines approaching from the east. I climb to meet them and quickly see that these are not our friends. They are two British RE8s. Our seven Albatrosen continue to climb on a course parallel to the English machines. Finally, as we arrive at our lines, we draw ahead of the RE8s and turn to the attack. I approach the nearer machine from the beam and fire about fifty rounds, holding the trigger levers while the enemy aeroplane flies through the hail of bullets. I circle back and find Oberleutnant Loerzer on the tail of my Englishman. The two-seater rolls to the right and dives below us. I follow and dive directly down at the RE8 as he is levelling off. My rounds smash his wings, and his left lower wing twists in the wind and falls away. I watch as the machine tumbles to earth, shedding bits and pieces in its dive. At last I have something I can claim again.

[Linked Image]
"I watch as the machine tumbles to earth, shedding bits and pieces in its dive."

In the afternoon we attend the funeral service for poor Bilhardt at St Joseph’s Church in Courtrai. I help to carry the coffin as does Vizefeldwebel Max Meyer. He flew with us for the first time this morning. And the man he is replacing is inside the box on his shoulder.

Attached Files Possible kill 32.jpg
#4533678 - 08/14/20 10:33 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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Lou and Raine, thank you for the lovely gong. Definitely will have to be more careful during the Gong Fairy visiting hours. And congrats to Vogel for his pair of chest cabbages. He must be twice more susceptible to the Gong Curse.

MFair, what’s with these young hotheads? Such a waste of life. There must be something in the water, especially after that second incident.
Congrats on the latest victories. Where do you still find these easy targets? I haven’t seen a Fee in forever.

Raine, I see what you mean. These proved to be two tough days at the office for Vogel, but it seems even that has its rewards in the form of double award presentation. Again, well done! Keeping fingers crossed that Harry Tate gets confirmed. With that Blue Max around one’s neck one must keep up one’s quota.

14 August, 1917
Flanders Sector
Jasta 17
Leutnant Zygmunt Dolf Hahn EK2 EK1 HHO
24 confirmed kills

The SPAD on fire from two days ago has been confirmed.

Zygmunt turned his head toward the window. The raindrops were splattering against the glass second day in a row with no flying either day. He rested his head on the clean pillow of the hospital bed lost in his thoughts.
“- Pfennig for your thoughts?” Wolff’s voice dragged Ziggy out of his reverie. His friend was laying in a bed beside him stroking his bandaged arm. He had a nice suntan on him, but a plate of beet soup was standing untouched on his nightstand.
Wolff continued: “- Every time I see you in a hospital you always wear a new dongle. What is this new piece of hardware and who’s Arschloch did you have to lick to get it?” Jakob was ogling Hahn’s newly received Hohenzollern House Order.
“- Oh, this little trinket? You get one of these for staying out of hospital beds, I think.” Ziggy responded nonchalantly.
Wolff knew well it was a jab aimed at him. He grabbed first thing that he could get his good hand on and tossed it at Zygmunt. It was his soup spoon and it landed two beds away, ricocheting off a soldier’s cast and clanging on the tiled floor. Everyone in the hall looked at the loud object on the floor with interest. The soldier the spoon bounced off looked puzzled at the ceiling.
“- So, when are you coming back, so I can stop coming here to bring you more cigars?” Ziggy was hopeful his friend would return to the Staffel any day now.
“- I’m not coming back Junge. I’ve realized I’m too old for this. It is a young man’s sport.” Jakob looked straight at Hahn.
“- You must be joking! You ...”
“- Nein Junge!” Wolff interrupted. “- I’ve made up my mind. Herr Doctor is right. I need to bow out while I still can. I don’t think I fancy getting shot again.” He looked away.
Zygmunt understood. He knew his friend well enough to know that once his mind was made up there was nothing anyone could do to persuade him otherwise.
“- What will you do now?”
“- Well, there is this little cigar factory in Hamburg I own. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? I think I may go back and make myself useful, so that you louts have something to smoke after every mission.” Wolff, as always, already had a plan.
Ziggy stood up from the unoccupied bed. Nurse will probably have a conniption for crumpling the linens. He straightened up, smartly clicked his heels and saluted his friend. Wolff extended his good hand and offered it to Zygmunt, who squeezed it lightly. Both men knew they probably will never see each other again.


"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."
#4533686 - 08/14/20 11:19 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Fido Iggy Bedlow
Sgt Rfc,
19 Sqn
Estree-Blanche, KILLED OFF GONE SOUTH DOWN FOR THE COUNT ATE IT.
Flanders, France.
3 Victory's confirmed.
4 Unconfirmed
August 14, 1917.

Bit the Big TA TA today. B flt had 5 a/c up on line Patrol and dove into a e/a flt of 6. The jail birds flew rings around the Spads. I want to bag one so went into a turn fight chased him like a dog catcher. Big Mistake in a Spad 7 . Soon I had 2 Jasta 26 e/a's on my tail like fleas on a dog and they Nailed Fido Deceased shot down.

Attached Files CFS3 2020-08-14 15-56-51-68.jpgCFS3 2020-08-14 15-57-07-77.jpgCFS3 2020-08-14 15-57-20-15.jpgCFS3 2020-08-14 16-07-15-52.jpg
#4533695 - 08/15/20 01:06 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Carrick, another brave flier down. It could have been Vogel as he has been down everything in sight. Bring on another pilot.


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!
#4533740 - 08/15/20 04:29 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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LOL

#4533767 - 08/16/20 12:45 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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epower Offline
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Maeran - a narrow escape for Lindley and O'Grady. Sometimes the Brave, Brave Sir Robin thing is the correct move.

Raine - Vogel on an absolute tear. Ripping stuff indeed and ace in a day! Impressive. Nice work staying on MVRs good side. Congrats on 31 and the meteoric rise to the PLM. Excellent pics. Shame about poor Bilhardt.

MFair - Ivan off to a solid start. Nice story with poor Bilhardt. What timing for an engine failure and then another crazed Ramflieger squadmate. Yikes!

Fullofit - Congrats Herr Leutnant on the promotion and the Gong! Again with the Ramflieger! At least it was just a hangar this time. Vogel is out of the gate quickly but slow and steady gets it done too. Wolff is calling it a career. A tough blow for Ziggy.

Lou - Strong move with the reappearance of the Gong Fairy. Almost like the Spanish Inquisition. Hope all goes smoothy and we see Freddy and Thomas again soon.

Carrick - Noooo! [Howl. Howl. Not Fido!] Chased the bouncing ball into traffic he did. A shame. My condolences.

So much to catch up on. My apologies if I missed anything truly spectacular among all of your recent adventures.




À la Recherche du Temps Perdu - Part 13 of many



14 July 1917

Royal Automobile Club
London, England

Biggins, driving like the wind, had me to the St. Pol railway station by 6:45. The train wouldn’t leave until 9 so I had time on my hands. Large crowd formed up over the next hour. Air filled with energy of two hundred plus all buzzing with the excitement of our impending leave. I found a few other RFC types and we boarded together taking over the penultimate coach. As predicted a ponderous journey to Boulogne, huge groups boarding at each stop but not the hoards I was expecting. Something was afoot. Still, by the time we arrived, there must have 800 or more of us disembarking.

Caught the 4pm leave boat to Folkestone. Smooth crossing with escort destroyer abeam and an airship overhead. Nothing like my last stormy foray across the Channel in April.

Arrived London 930pm. Victoria Station a hive of activity, even at the late hour. Headed to the Royal Automobile Club to check for any communication from Eliza. Nothing. On the bright side I did find a room available. My streak continues. If only the claims officers at Wing would follow suit.


15 July 1917
Royal Automobile Club
London, England

Explored the Royal Automobile Club (RAC). What a fantastic place. Enormous billiard room and a gigantic lounge. On the basement level a well-equipped gymnasium, an enormous swimming tank as well as Turkish baths and a frigidarium. I could get used to this.

An unusual Summer day in London - Moderate temperature, fleecy clouds and blue sky. A walk would be just the thing and I set out to stretch my legs. Crossing through Picadilly I continued up Regent street then over to Saville Row. Two men were admiring the tailoring in a shop window.

[Linked Image]

On impulse I headed inside. Despite Parker’s best efforts, the recent streak of bullet grazes had my tunics looking the worse for wear. My service jacket looked fine as it was, since I never wore it in the air but I never did like the fit. Having explained this latter issue, my tailor, Mr. Pendergon immediately set to with his cloth rule and crayon marking out demarcations on my jacket, which he then handed to an assistant who vanished as mysteriously as he had appeared.

What followed was delightful two hours being fitted for two tunics, a new service jacket, a pair of breeches and slacks. The cost was considerable, but the fit was nothing like I’d ever experienced. A higher arm hole as typical of equestrian tailoring, but without the accompanying upward restriction. It was as if the jacket wasn’t there at all. I almost felt like I could fight in the thing.

Fitting concluded I headed north, wearing a marvelously re-tailored service jacket. Approaching Russell Square I found the hotel.

[Linked Image]

“I’m terribly sorry, sir but we’ve no rooms available at the moment.”
“You’d be Mr. Tracy, the Concierge?” I inquired.
“That I am, sir.”
“I am to say that A.L. Parker recommended your establishment.”
Parker, Parker? I’m sure I’d remember him. Might he go by another name?
“Nosey,” I replied.

“Ah, yes. Nosey. Tall fellow, blond hair, bulbous nose, pale eyes.”
“No" I said. "Short, black hair, hawk nose, bushy eyebrows and a constant shadow.”
“That’s him, sir. Welcome to the International.”

The word was Parker had some interesting connections. After this skullduggery and looking at the crowd I was beginning to suspect exactly what kind. The clientele looked eminently respectable and yet there was something about them and this place, an underworld feel that reminded me of Shanghai. Still, the room was grand, and almost affordable. The bathtub, while not the equal of L’Hotel in Corbie would still fit two without much trouble. The staff could not have been more courteous and Mr. Tracy the concierge was most accommodating of my many requests. If Eliza hated the place, we could move.

Royal Automobile Club (RAC) for the afternoon. Spent 2 hours in the Gym. Found some fellows practicing Jiu Jitsu. Trained with them for an hour. They were most interested in Mr. Fairbairn’s Gutter fighting attacks. Spent the remainder of the day swimming and relaxing in the Turkish baths. No messages from Eliza as of the afternoon.

[Linked Image]

Over to Victoria Station just in case. Victoria was incredibly crowded. Tommies clumped around the Red Cross canteens, and formed sprawling queue at Cox & Co. An ambulance train offloaded wounded and in addition to the leave train a troop transport was boarding. I’d no idea how I would find Eliza in this morass. Working upstream against the surge of arriving leave takers I spotted a group nurses. Eliza was not among them.



16 July 1917

The International
London, England

Dropped off remaining tunics at Kingsman for alteration and refurbishment. Checked RAC.
Telegram from Eliza – “On late train. Meet Grosvenor Hotel Lobby.”

Walked over to RFC HQ at the Hotel Cecil to inquire about ferrying an aeroplane back to France. Instructed to return on the 25th for orders. Remainder of day at RAC, then off to the Grosvenor for dinner and the interminable wait. The hotel sat adjacent to Victoria Station and arriving travelers could enter the lobby directly from the Eastern platform.
I could hear the 10 o’clock train arriving. Pacing the lobby like an agitated cat for nearly 20 minutes, I was beginning to think the worst when Eliza appeared, wearing her same blue dress from Corbie. A flurry catchup on the taxi ride back to the International.

We were barely through the door when I dropped her suitcase and had her in my arms. She kissed me back with the same ferocity but as my hands wandered, she stopped me.
“I missed you too, Oliver. There will be time for that, but right now I need a bath. Desperately. Please tell me there’s a bathtub.”
“Evil tidings on that score, I’m afraid.”
Her face fell.
“The tub isn’t nearly as large as the one in Corbie, but it should fit the two of us without difficulty.”
She just shook her head and said nothing. Removing her shoes, Eliza tossed her jacket to me, retrieved something from her suitcase then walked into the bathroom and closed the door.

That definitely didn’t go as planned.

I sat reading for 30 minutes hoping she would emerge. Her reunion with Hygieia continued unabated. Frustration got the better of me and stripping off my pajamas, I donned one of the robes provided. I stuck my head in the bathroom. Eliza was in the tub which was swarming with a cloud-like layer of tall soap bubbles. One leg was in the air. She ran a soapy sponge down its full length.

“Oliver!” she cried in surprise and dropped back under the bubbles hiding herself.
“I thought I’d join you,” I said.
She was having none of it.
“Out you go,” she said, not unkindly.
“Let me do that for you,” I ventured.
She smiled but continued waving me out the door.
I retreated.



17 July 1917
The International
London, England

I woke early. Eliza lay inert beside me. Dawn of a new day shone through the windows. Clear blue sky. The rising glass stubbornly resisted any emergence of grey drizzle. I went back to sleep.

I lay on my side, facing Eliza and dozing as the morning sun splashed across my face. The lightest touch on the tip of my nose, on my lips. Warm breath, then her lips kissing my eyelids. I opened my eyes and Eliza was there, literally nose to nose. It took me a moment to focus. The sunlight caught her light brown eyes from the side, lending the pupils a strange, refractive depth.

“Wake up sleepy one,” she said, then climbed on top of me.
We passed the morning most pleasantly.

[Linked Image]

Fortunately, a late breakfast was still being served when we finally made it down to the restaurant.

“Oliver, are you sure this place is legitimate? These people look frightfully mysterious. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say half were arms merchants, spies or worse. It’s a regular high-class pirate haven. You do know how to charm a girl.”
“The pirates appear sophisticated and very well dressed, Eliza. Nary an eye patch nor parrot among them. I hear this dining room is identical to the one on Titanic.”
“That’s reassuring,” said Eliza.
“Speaking of parrot,” she continued, “we must go the Olde Cheshire Cheese Pub. It has quite a literary history. Charles Dickens, Mark Twain and Samuel Johnson all frequented the place. It’s famous. So is the parrot. Did you have a parrot on Astoria?
“No, just a ship’s cat or two.”

Eliza also had business with Lloyd's, so we set off.
We walked up together to the foreign accounts desk; the clerk turned out to be an American. Odd, thin-looking fellow with slicked black hair and ears that jutted like top planes from his head. He appeared just this side of thirty. Seeing my RFC uniform his eyes lit and he peppered me with numerous questions as he attended to Eliza’s transfer of funds. He seemed quite captivated by the image and novelty of flying.

"If you don’t mind me asking sir, how long have you been with the Flying Corps?"
“Almost a year,” I answered. “I left in the stifling heat of Boston but had a cold coming to Liverpool.”

He jotted something down something on the back of an envelope.

“Terrible what happened in April sir,” he said.

“Yes, it was the cruelest month of the war," I said.
At this, he made yet another note on a stray piece of paper.

“How may I be of service to you, sir?”

It took the clerk some time to find the details, in the end he established that Father had sent me £200! That was nearly $1000! Where would he get such a sum? Was it some fund for my schooling? The University of California was free for residents to attend. Had he been saving all this time in case I wished to attend one of the colleges back East? That was his dream, not mine but I suddenly felt a heel all the same.

“This Baron Von Richthofen, does he really paint his aeroplane so flamboyantly?” inquired the clerk.
“Oh yes, Hun machines run in many colors,” I said. “Some even patterned black and white like jellicle cats.”

Another note scribbled.

By this time the old boy seated behind our clerk had made yet another “ahem” and was sending disapproving looks our way.

“Sir, not to try your patience but these flying machines seem so fragile. One would think they would burst apart on contact with the ground.

“Only in a crash,” I replied. “The trick is to land not with a bang but with a whimper.”

More Jotting. A more emphatic clearing of the throat sounded from the old boy, who I took to be our clerk’s superior.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” he asked.
“No, thank you,” I replied.

“You’ve been very kind, Captain Winningstad,” he said. Reaching into a drawer he removed what appeared to be a small book, which he opened and inscribed. “Please take this with my compliments, sir. I’ve enjoyed our conversation.”

Departing Lloyd's we engaged a taxi to Trafalgar Square. The weather continued perfect, so we walked down Whitehall towards Big Ben. As we passed the War Office, parting the sea of civil and military servants like Astoria’s bows, a stentorian voice split the air.

“Young Bull!”



(to be continued)





Last edited by epower; 08/17/20 04:05 AM.
#4533806 - 08/16/20 06:20 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Wow, I could live there.

#4533807 - 08/16/20 06:33 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Marcel Jules Gilbare
ESC. 15 GC 13
Senard, Verdun

August 14, 1917.


Arrived tonight and met everyone I had wine Bread and Cheese for dinner then off to the Chateau for sleep

Aug 15. Dawn Patrol. I was assigned a N 23 to fly with 2 section. ( We are a Mix Esc. N-23's 6 of them and 14 Spad VII's } Flight leader told me to stay out of a fight if we met Zee Boche. No Contact Flying is so different from being a Canal Boat Skipper on the large rivers

Attached Files CFS3 2020-08-16 11-02-13-42.jpgCFS3 2020-08-16 11-02-39-62.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 08/16/20 06:36 PM.
#4533812 - 08/16/20 07:09 PM 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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Posts: 3,696
Ajax, ON
Epower, finally news from Oliver. I was beginning to think he decided to stay in London, permanently. Gripping stuff.
That was some adventure at Kingsman. (Young Eggy looking ahead of his time, as always) I hope you splurged and opted for the tactical lining in your new jacket.
Terrible luck with Eliza on the first night. Talk about blue balls! Thankfully the first “breakfast” made up for it.
And finally, there it is! The inevitable reunion with his old mentor. I do hope he doesn’t monopolize Oliver’s time too much on catching up. Looking forward to the continuation of this delicious story.

Carrick, sorry to learn your pilot went to dog heaven. Marcel sounds like a good name for a cat.

No news on Ziggy’s side. The bad weather continues. No flying and Vogel continues to extend his lead.


"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."
#4533844 - 08/17/20 12:18 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Fullofit: The only other French name I havnt used was Louis and Farquar

#4533845 - 08/17/20 12:19 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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Marcel Jules Gilbare
Sgt.
ESC. 15 GC 13
Senard, Verdun



August 16 and 17. Rain.

Last edited by carrick58; 08/17/20 12:21 AM.
#4533846 - 08/17/20 12:47 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
Posts: 737
epower Offline
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epower  Offline
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Carrick - Welcome Marcel! Vive la France!

Fullofit - Much fun at Kingsman, or King's Man in this case. Note the car. Eggsy many decades off.
Alas, the "Which side are we dressing on today, sir?" scene didn't make the cut. It's a family thread, after all. We can't be slinging large knob jokes around capriciously. Tactical lining not available to walk-ins. Regrettable. Most Regrettable.

As for Marcel being a cat name, this image flew into my head and won't leave.

[Linked Image]


Last edited by epower; 08/17/20 12:54 AM.
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