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#4546986 - 12/03/20 07:38 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) ***** [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Online content
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Wulfe, welcome back! Hopefully RL will allow you to stick around for a while. Great introduction to Bill and to the rest of SPA 31. And that first excursion with a surprise visit from the neighbours across the mud. Looking forward to reading more of Grey’s adventures. Congrats on that first victory even if unconfirmed.
Who knows, maybe one day he’ll go head to head with Ltn Hahn?

Lou, that was a tense moment attacking those two-seaters, with the Hun gunner cutting Freddy’s patrol short. Hopefully Abbott’s claim will be confirmed.

3 December, 1917 07:45
Saint-Loup-en-Champagne, Marne Sector
Jasta 19
Leutnant Zygmunt Dolf Hahn EK2 EK1 HHO PLM AO
97 confirmed kills

It was another airfield defence mission. This time over Sissone.
Light snow started to fall in the morning, just enough to stay on top of the grassy field. It seemed to increase in intensity once in the air, but it was just an illusion. The strong wind was a bigger worry. It buffeted the flight with each gust. Simply flying level in this weather was a chore, let alone fighting. They eventually cleared the squall and were allowed to continue their mission in clear weather, albeit still tossed around by the strong gusts of wind.
The Schwarm was navigating some large clouds when a flight of silver Strutters emerged from the other side. Ziggy followed one at once. Two other Albatrosen were also chasing his target. Zygmunt leaned into the sights and pulled up to line up the shot. A sudden gust of wind pushed him much higher than he intended and exposed him for a perfect shot to the rear gunner of the French machine ahead. He felt a sharp pain in his left arm. Ziggy instinctively dove away from the fray and landed his Albatros at Sissone. The ground crews were helping Zygmunt get out of the plane after putting a belt around his arm above the wound to stop the bleeding. The wind was beginning to gust violently. He could see some of his wingmen landing on the airfield now. Some with bullet damage, one was driven into the field by the gusts of wind. Tybelsky parked his machine alongside Hahn’s. The man was green and the side of his Albatros’ fuselage advertised what the fellow had for breakfast.
Ziggy smiled weakly.

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."
#4547029 - 12/04/20 01:48 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit – you gave me a scare with the image of that video. Glad to hear you will only be out for a while.

Carrick – Rupert continues to impress. That's light and the dark looked like a nailbiter.

Lou – nice job on bagging the Hannover. I was not aware that they had made an appearance yet. And then you flamed a DFW (at the cost of an engine). You seem to have a knack for two-seaters.

Wulfe – a hearty welcome to Bill Grey! I have missed your rich storytelling and your deft hand at capturing the feel of the Aviation Militaire. Very well done.

I haven't had much time this week so this is a quick catch-up from MacAlister…


War Journal of Flight Sub-Lieutenant George Ewan MacAlister

8 Squadron, RNAS

Mont-St-Eloi, France

Part 4


[Linked Image]
"Now I found a Hun with a scarlet nose and fired a long burst into him."

The morning of 1 December 1917 saw us well over the lines. Squadron Commander Draper joined Flight Lieutenant Munday’s little outing – we were bound for a cluster of Hun aerodromes north of Cambrai. With us we had two new additions to the squadron. Flight Lieutenant Guy Price had recently arrived from duty in England. He was a short, wiry fellow who proclaimed his naval prerogative by sporting a pointed red beard, the very image of the hero of The Adventures of Captain Kettle. The other new man was Edward Johnstone. Or rather, I should call him the new boy. He is scarcely eighteen and looks younger. He hails from London and has been gaining some experience with Naval Twelve. I question Draper’s judgement in bringing two new pilots so far into Darkest Hunland.

We got as far as Epinoy before Jerry intervened in the form of a large group of Pfalz scouts. They dived on us and I skidded out of the way as one of them took a crack at me. Now it was a matter of patience – admittedly never my strongest suit. I did my best to stay above the fight and watch out for Price and Johnstone. I did not have to wait long. Ahead and below, a Pfalz dived onto Johnstone’s tail. The Hun was so focused on his prey that he was completely unaware that I had closed to within ten yards before I fired. Then it was all I could do to avoid the pieces of Hun aeroplane coming back at me. The silver EA crashed close to Epinoy aerodrome.

I struggled to regain height and was attacked by another Pfalz. I tried a snap roll – a manoeuvre I had only attempted once before. It was clumsy but it was enough to cause the Hun to overshoot. I put out its engine and watched it spiral down to crash a few miles west of Epinoy. Now I was alone and decided to make for home. I was Archie all the way back to the lines and some of it was damnably accurate. My machine showed a few holes by the time I arrived over the mud. That was when I spotted a Pfalz trailing a camel a half mile ahead. Once again, I closed unseen on the enemy and set him aflame with a long burst from close behind.

No sooner had this Hun gone down than another dived on me. This fellow was rather good and we circled and dived and zoomed for nearly ten minutes before I had a chance at him. It took only one burst to put the pilot out of action and the machine simply put its nose down and drove itself into the earth.

On my return I claimed the four EAs and received credit for two of them. Johnston confirmed the first one I had downed at Epinoy and Munday confirmed the third – Munday was piloting the Camel that the Hun had been chasing back over the lines.

The afternoon was uneventful, a long offensive patrol with no contact.

The morning of 2 December 1917 was much the same. We patrolled all the way down to Cambrai and trailed our coats up and down the line without attracting any business. A couple of enemy patrols appeared in the distance, but either they did not see us or were not interested in joining the fun.

The afternoon of 2 December was different. We lounged about the mess, virtuously drinking orange squash while we waited for the compass stations to call with news of enemy incursions. But the first enemy incursion appeared overhead in the form of a large cluster of Albatri. Someone started ringing our ship’s bell and we sprinted to the field. Day was the first off the ground and I was second. Before any of the others were up the Huns were on us. They were all at least partially red in colour. I am told that this is the sign of Richthofen’s “circus.” It is a crack squadron that the Huns move up and down the line to establish local superiority when they have an operation underway. We had already heard about the counteroffensive at Cambrai. As I turned about, I met a scarlet Albatros and for the briefest of seconds had the Baron in my sights. The moment I began to fire he flipped over and disappeared below me. Now I found a Hun with a scarlet nose and fired a long burst into him. He fell on the airfield. I saw another Albatros chase a Camel towards the village and dived on it. My first burst caused the machine’s wings to tear away and it crashed just short of the town.

Now I turned about to head home and saw a lone Albatros with red nose and tail pass in front only a few hundred yards away. I got behind him and fired. The EA caught fire immediately.

I headed home as the sun was low on the horizon. Columns of smoke rose all around our aerodrome. I had not seen any of our machines in trouble and took great pride in knowing that we had mastered the best the enemy had to throw at us. To my annoyance, only the machine that crashed onto the aerodrome was confirmed as mine. Other pilots plus units on the ground had all claimed a piece of the action and it was “not on” to push aggressively for recognition of a claim.

Monday, 3 December 1917 was our first real snow. We had a long defensive patrol down near Doullens with no contact. Then in the afternoon we did it all again. This time we ran into three Albatri just as we were returning to Mont-St-Eloi. They were flying at only five hundred feet and I suspect they intended to attack a nearby captive balloon. Draper spotted them and we were all over them in seconds. I fired twenty-five rounds into one and thought he had crashed, only to see Draper finishing him off seconds later. I found another and got to him before Draper did. Fifty rounds saw him stagger over the lines and crash just south-east of Vimy. I returned to the aerodrome to find that Jordan had a claim in as well. Draper’s was easily confirmed, as was Jordan’s, but my Hun somehow escaped attention and the claim was not approved. Still, I am pleased with having officially downed fifteen Huns in my short time here.

Attached Files Kill 15.jpg
#4547030 - 12/04/20 02:37 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Wow what a shot.

#4547034 - 12/04/20 03:04 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Rupert Harkonen
Underofficer
Jasta 33
Wynghene, Flanders

Victory's: 4
Claims: 1

Dec 3, 1917.

Hq sent orders down for a move. I dont know what they are thinking , but sounds good on paper. Fly to new AF on the other side of Nancy Sierentz passed Verdun cutting across enemy lines at 110 mph . Fly at 500 meters all the way thus surprising the enemy.. We went off as ordered with 10 a/c to be followed by ground personnel transporting fuel/ ammo/a/c parts/ the lame duck a/c by horse cart and 2 trucks.
1. Distance Fuel load critical No climbing, no diverting from course. We overflew 3 enemy AF's plus 2 Army Camps, and a small factory + ground troops all firing at us due to the Sound of the motors.and phoning the next group down the line.
2. Hills and mountains were on the route but not shown on the strip maps. Time and fuel lost looking for valleys or trying to get over them.
3. Only 6 a/c found the base that didnt know we were reporting for duty so no food and slept under the wing. I landed with 8 % Fuel in the tanks.

Score 4 machines lost due to ? not enough fuel for crossing mountains Machines crashing into mountains , Ground fire.

Attached Files CFS3 2020-12-03 17-44-49-98.jpgCFS3 2020-12-03 17-52-34-74.jpgCFS3 2020-12-03 17-52-55-24.jpg
#4547044 - 12/04/20 04:46 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit - The Marne agrees with Ziggy. The march toward Centurion status continues. Maybe the lack of female distraction is a good thing. Goodness knows Oliver could benefit from such a situation. Cool shot of the Hannover. I've not run into one yet. That Breguet driver had some chops, though. He gave that first flight all they could handle before Ziggy arrived on scene.
Mein Gott! Another perforation. I don't like scrolling down the page and seeing the blood thumbnail. Glad Ziggy's not too badly wounded. How long will he be out?

Raine - Superb intro to your new man but a bumpy start for MacAllister. His shooting appears unaffected though. Many years hence a man name Viper will comment about another Navy man having "A hell of a first day." 12 in the first week?! Young George is on a serious tear. Flank speed! Those red noses had best watch out. Great screencap.

VonS and Robert - Good to see you gentlemen dropping by. I'm curious sometimes as to how many actually follow our DID thread. Come on in, the skies are cold and deadly. DID FM package much appreciated though as an SE5 merchant I hope I won't need it until the next campaign!

Carrick - Those two guns make all the difference. So glad to see Rupert doing well and gaining some favor with the claims board. Harkonen...Hmmm. Best he keep an eye out for the House of Atreus. Again with the beer carrying females. I don't know how your men do it but they have the gift for sure. Those dusk patrols are no fun when it comes time for landing. You've caught the light very well in those three morning pics. Nice!
Who on earth is issuing these movement orders? Four lost on a transfer! Ouch. I wonder if there's evil afoot in the form of Secret Agents.

Lou- The Abbey cover art is priceless. Genius! Freddy really got things rolling once he shipped for France. Oliver looked for him at the Investiture but had no luck. Wonderful pics, especially the sunset disintegration and the morning smoker.

Wulfe - Welcome back and welcome Bill Grey. Outstanding introduction. I look forward to following his exploits.

#4547049 - 12/04/20 05:38 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Ooof! This one-way DID narrative is just a killer. This arc took so much time I almost wrote a "What has gone before" chapter. So many threads which become canon once posted so I had to weave carefully and that's set me back some weeks.

A huge note of thanks to Raine, who not only lent me his Alexandra Anderson character but also provided most of her dialogue. Great fun. All sorted now, so here we go!

________________________________________________________________

À la Recherche du Temps Perdu - Part 43 of many



22 October 1917
London, England

It was past one o’clock and we were both ravenous. After setting water to boil Clarissa rummaged through the kitchen, exploring the many cupboards and drawers before finally collecting what she sought. It was clear that this wasn’t her permanent home. The larder was freshly provisioned however, and she set to work. I was given a toasting fork and my marching orders.
In little time at all we were sitting down to one of the finest omelets I’d ever tasted, Clarissa’s version was buttery and soft, but not with the disgustingly runny dog drool consistency so popular amongst the French. Cooked through to perfection. I managed not to burn the toast.

“For a girl requiring staff, you manage rather well. Not exactly roughing it, are we?
“Oliver, requiring staff doesn’t mean I’ve never visited a kitchen.”

“I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone, Clarissa. Not after last night. Those men might have associates looking for you.”

“You don’t? Oh, I see, because I might be in danger. I was thinking it might be for another reason.” she said with a sultry look.

Mon Cher Protecteur, you needn’t worry. I’m not without resources and I was already planning to visit Mother in the country. I’ll be fine.”

“If I were to write you, where would I send the letter?” I inquired.
“You wish to write? Splendid! Send the letters here, I’ll get them eventually. I should warn you, I’m not a reliable correspondent.”

“And where are we exactly?”

“Chelsea,” she said. “Number 9, Bywater Street.”

Our kiss of farewell lingered tantalizingly and threatened to lead somewhere else entirely. I broke contact with difficulty.

“Be on your guard, my magnificent, guileless Oliver,” were her parting words to me.
_____________________________________


It was a dark world she inhabited. Shadows and mystery like a Sherlock Holmes story. The walk back to the RAC gave me time to get my mind in order. I’d been here in London a mere five days and yet my stay felt the space of many weeks. This last night and morning with Clarissa alone carried the weight of a fortnight’s time. Walking away from Clarissa, I felt as a man escaping the thralldom of an enchantment. Each pace toward the RAC removed me incrementally from Clarissa’s spell. Equilibrium returned if but slowly.

And yet...and yet, the spell and she who cast it held a compulsion still. Our attraction was raw, visceral, and of a kind I’d never known. We’d fought together and I’d killed two men with my hands to keep her safe. It would never work, but oh catch at the heart, what magic when we were together. Beautiful delusion. On that path lay madness.

“I saw pale kings, and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
Who cry'd— ‘La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!’ ”


It was so hard to know with certainty yet if I were honest, I knew we had no future. Clarissa had designs on someone of higher station; an aristocrat of antique land perhaps, or wealthy industrialist of a kind I imagined that slick-haired, jilted suitor at Murray’s to be. Whatever feelings she might hold for me, neither my character, nor my accomplishments in war, nor my string of postnominal letters held any significance. One blood or no, I was her plaything, maybe after our latest adventure her playmate, but nothing more.

Wandering absentmindedly I stopped in front of a curio shop across from Victoria Station. One of the items in the window caught my eye, a small cornicello pendant in gold. A charm against evil, it was perfect.

Continuing up Victoria Street to Big Ben then on past Whitehall, thoughts of Eliza returned. I passed the War Ministry and very spot where we’d met Smokey in July.

Eliza. I was gutted already after she broke things off. Seeing her here so unexpectedly and with Phoebus Apollo was a cruel blow. Were they together in truth? The possibility of it gnawed at me.

I’d made a mess of things at Grafton Galleries. Juvenile! She didn’t deserve that and the look of abject pain on her face haunted me.

Don’t give up.


I held onto Aunt Rhea’s imperative as a lifeline.
________________________


Back at the RAC. Just time for a shave and change of uniform. I wrote a brief note to Clarissa and enclosed the charm. She would need all the protection it could provide.

[Linked Image]

Arriving at the Embassy I was informed that Ambassador Page was detained on some affair of state. Captain Chapman, his able Military Attaché met me instead.

“Captain Winningstad, thank you for coming. The Ambassador sends his apologies and asks if you might meet instead with Major Simpkins of the US Army Signal Corps. If you will be so kind as to accompany Lt. Wilson, he will show you the way.”

In the good Lieutenant’s company I arrived at the outer offices of the USAS. Another Lt. escorted me to a door reading Major D. Simpkins, U.S. Army Signal Corps and held it for me as I entered.

Major Simpkins sat back in his chair arms behind his head and feet propped up on his desk, soles toward me. He did not rise as entered the room. The curve of his ample belly and the crumpling of his uniform tunic obscured any insignia of rank. Without introduction or pleasantries he commenced speaking.

“So, Captain Winny-stad, I heard about you. Ran off to join the circus in England. Word is you even bagged a few Krauts. Let me guess, you shot down Von Richthofen? Well, it’s time to come home to Uncle Sam now, buddy boy, not that you have a home anymore since you’re no longer an American citizen. You’re nobody. Stateless.”

He reached out a hand and rapped the desk twice with a large ring to emphasize his point.

Stay calm, Oliver.

I waited for the space of ten seconds, my eyes boring into the Major.

"How do I address you?" I asked at last.

"Major, of course." he responded, sitting back upright, and placing his hands on the arms of his chair. The feet he kept on the desk.

“How would I know that?” I replied. “I can see no insignia of rank behind your feet and belly. And Major it is customary to stand when greeting a brother officer from an Allied army. Perhaps the US Naval Air Service can do better.”

I’d mentioned the Naval air service just to tweak his nose and it had the desired effect. The Major dropped his feet to the floor and inflated like a dirigible with a palpable reddening of his features.

“You’ve got some nerve, Winnie-stad coming into my office and snapping like this. I thought Lime Juicers were supposed to be polite. You should be grateful Uncle Sam is willing to take you back. Got a job for you with the new Air Service. Of course you’ll need to swear the Oath of Allegiance, put on a proper American uniform, and get rid of those Limey wings and ribbons. We might even throw in a promotion.” He knocked his ring on the desk again.

The Lieutenant outside will get you a movement order to go qualify at Flying School for some real American Wings. Here’s what you’ll need to do...” Blah blah blah. I tuned out the remainder of his blather.

It’s true then. I am no longer an American citizen.

Knock-knock went the ring which I now realized was the class token of a West Pointer.

“Your collar badge, Major, crossed cannon. You are an artilleryman by training?”

“Born and bred.” he replied.

“Yet you presume to command aviators, never having flown an aeroplane. “How many flying hours have you logged, Major? I see no wings.” I asked by way of reply.

“Don’t need wings to command, when I’ve got this,” he snorted contemptuously. Again he knocked his ring on the desk.

I had but a tenuous hold on my temper when I’d arrived, and the Major wasn’t helping that at all. I was slowly counting to ten in my head, locked in a bitter struggle against the urge to send him to the Death God with my bare hands. I took a deep breath and set the idea aside.

“In answer to your question, yes, I did shoot down Von Richthofen. August 20th over Ghistelles. Apparently, he survived the crash and is now on convalescent leave."

“There’s a whopper if I’ve ever heard one,” he said, laughing and slapping his knee theatrically. “Tell me another. Now what say you, Winniestad...you think you can hack it?

“I love my country, Major, and would willingly die for it, but I would sooner forsake my native land and become an Englishman, than serve in an American Air Service with you in a position of command!
You sir, are nothing more than a Penguin, a flightless bird. You’re certainly shaped like one, although now that I think about it, I think the Dodo might be a better comparison.”

“Good day, Major!” Without saluting, I turned and walked out the door.

_________________________________________


[Linked Image]

“Captain Winningstad, please accept my apologies once again for Major Simpkins' discourtesy." said Ambassador Page. "As a diplomat, it is occasionally necessary to take on a lodger, if you understand my meaning. I do wish you had the opportunity to meet with Colonel Mitchell. He is a true aviator and one of the driving forces behind the development of an Air Service."

Ambassador Page explained that his hand was forced by higher powers to arrange the meeting with me and Major Simpkins. He further explained that the US has no Air Force yet, only a Signal Corps which is mired in politics as the regular army types don’t see the need for an Air Corps. He recommended instead that I join the US Navy Flying Corps and offered to write a letter to Undersecretary of the Navy Franklin Roosevelt if I would agree to join that service.

“Not to try your patience but I wonder if you’d be willing to meet briefly with an American reporter. Any publicity she could generate for the Flying Corps back home would greatly benefit the war effort.”

_______________________________


Ambassador Page had said only that the journalist was from Chicago. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this person. Alexandra Anderson stood and extended a hand, then motioned for me to take a seat.

“Call me Alex,” she said. She took out an amber cigarette holder and a box of Sobranies. I reached for my trench lighter, but she had fastened her cigarette into the holder and lit it before I had finished rummaging through my tunic pocket. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” I nodded as if I had been given a choice. “Miss Anderson.”

She was a striking woman. I’m not sure if I would call her pretty but she was certainly attractive. Her face was strong and angular, her nose long and regal, her mouth suggested a sense of humor, and piercing blue eyes shone full of wit. She’d be the proverbial red cape for Smokey. Just his type.

“Where is home for you, Captain?” she inquired.

“California, just south of Berkeley,” I said. What followed was a five minute back and forth about the events of the past 3 years – Astoria, joining the war, my first months at the front. I’d just gotten comfortable with our conversation when, without missing a trick she slid right into her true line of inquiry.

“You’re the highest scoring ace in the Royal Flying Corps. Do you think there’s any resentment of that fact, given you’re an American?”

Be on your guard, always...

It was to be Poker and I’d blundered into a real blood game. I was out of practice and my opponent gave every sign of being an expert.

“I’ve never encountered anything of the kind, Miss Anderson.”

Is that true?

“Such things have happened before, Captain Winningstad. Did you know Randolph Swanson?” she asked.

“Captain Swanson of 66 Squadron? I never had the privilege, unfortunately.”

Miss Anderson was just about to continue when there was a knock at the door. An aide opened it and held the door for a Nursing sister. It was Eliza! She hesitated briefly in the doorway as she saw me, then as I stood, she continued into the room.

“Miss Ludlow,” I said, keeping my voice level.

“Captain Winningstad,” Eliza replied primly. “If you’d prefer, I can wait outside and come in later.”
Alex Anderson waved her in. “Come in,” she said. “We’ll make it a party. Alexandra Anderson,” she said extending a hand to Eliza in greeting. “You can call me Alex.” Eliza chose an armchair across from me.

What in the Seven Hells is going on here? Another ambush?

I hoped Eliza read my look of alarm correctly.

“This is special,” said Alex. “Two American kids make good in England. Forgive me, but I’m going to play this up. “Oliver…I’m so sorry – Captain Winningstad – tell me something about the Victoria Cross and what it feels like to be among the small number of living recipients.”

“I don’t know how to answer that question. I’m honored by the award, but I’ve not thought about it that particular way, Miss Anderson. There are braver men who now lie dead, most without decoration of any kind. I found it profoundly humbling to be in the company of my fellow VCs, more so as I heard their citations read.”

“Eliza, tell me about yourself.”

Eliza visibly stiffened. I recognized the incipient signs of annoyance.

“If we’re going to use first names, Miss Anderson,” Eliza spoke in a glassy tone, “be aware that my first name is ‘Sister.’ I believe you already know Captain Winningstad’s.”

“Yes, of course,” replied Alex. If Eliza’s barb got through, the reporter made no sign.

Eliza gave a brief precis of her background. How she finished nursing school in 1916 and shipped for England.

“We’re both from Chicago, I see,” said Alex. “But you’re leaving something out. You two know each other, right?”

“We met very briefly on Laconia during the crossing,” I replied flatly, “then again at a Casualty Clearing station in France. I cannot say where, obviously.”
“Was this for the treatment of one of your battle wounds, Captain? How romantic.” Alex said animatedly. She had her tail up now was clearly intrigued.

“No. I was visiting a wounded comrade, in fact,” I said, affecting a nonchalance I didn’t feel in the least.

“Speaking of wounds, Sister, I trust yours are on the mend. You recently received the Military Medal, the highest award for valor available to a Nursing Sister.” Shuffling through her notes she drew out a sheet and continued, “I have the citation here.”

47 Casualty Clearing Station. At Dozinghem, at 9.15 pm, August 20th, 1917, during a Bomb Raid in which there were 68 casualties, including 14 deaths, this Lady showed remarkable coolness and gallantry under the most trying circumstances. Although she had been on duty in the Operating Theatre for 13 hours, she was foremost in attending to the injured. When wounded by a piece of shrapnel she made light of her injury and when work could be resumed, took her place at the table at which she remained throughout the night and all the following day. It was absolutely necessary for surgical operations to be performed, and Miss Ludlow’s consistent courage and devotion to duty were not only of great advantage to the wounded but an example to and the admiration of all who worked with her. This is only one of the many occasions when shells and bombs have fallen near this hospital and whenever acts of courage have been called for, she has behaved in a manner beyond the highest words of praise.***

My God!

My breath caught in my chest. Clenching my teeth together, I fought desperately to keep an impassive face but felt my hold slipping.

“Amazing. I’ll ask you the same question I did of Captain Winningstad, how do you feel being the recipient of the Military Medal, one of the few Nursing Sisters so decorated?”

“My actions were hardly unique, Miss Anderson. We are all of us doing our duty and occasionally that requires facing enemy fire, even at a hospital.”

“What can America teach the British about how to win this war? People at home think it’s just a matter of getting some fresh thinking and knocking the French and British out of their dusty old ways.”

“I’d say you have your question backwards, Miss Anderson. The British and the French have fought the German for three years now. Theirs is by far the greater experience of war. Make no mistake, the war and its tactics have changed greatly during that time even if the front lines have remained mostly static. The American Expeditionary Force are the newcomers here, eager to fight, but like greenhorns on a ship they have much to learn.”

Oh Hell, I shouldn’t have said that.

I saw Eliza’s eyes widen as she made a barely perceptible shake of her head.

“Having said that, American spirit and will to win can only, err... speed the end of the war,” I added hastily.

“I’ll address this to both of you. What do you say to the people at home who think that America has no business getting involved in a European struggle?”

Eliza jumped in to answer without even looking in my direction. It was only fitting since her family’s avocation was politics.

“Democracy is fragile and must be defended with vigor, Miss Anderson. At home first and there’s work to do there, but also abroad. Standing idly by while Prussian autocracy dominates Europe flies in the face of everything we as Americans hold dear. Isolation goes against our national interest. If America is to have a place on the world stage, we must act decisively not just for France and Belgium but for all those people who would free themselves from the oppression of decadent Empires. Freedoms abroad can only benefit those Americans striving for a better life, and God forbid, equality before the law...”

Eliza the Internationalist! Eliza the Suffragette! Of course Britain is an Empire too... Miss Anderson refused the bait, but I think she agreed with much of Eliza’s answer.

“Captain, what say you?”

In my mind I heard General Aubrey’s dry reply, “Quite.”

“Hear. Hear.” I said, trying not to laugh at the memory.

“Eliza, excuse me... Sister, when I was working in Paris over the last year, the American hospital there did some ground-breaking work. What do you see in the British hospital system that can be improved? Is there anything we can learn from the British?”

“That’s a question for the Matron-in-Chief, Miss McCarthy. She’s the one who sees the whole. I hold a narrower perspective as a surgical theatre nurse. What Dr. Crile and others have done at the American hospital in Paris is nothing less than extraordinary. Bringing together the greatest medical minds in Europe and the United States and sharing expertise. For the past two years surgical teams from all over the Unites States have been on 3-month rotations at the American Hospital in Paris. Medicine by its very nature lends itself to collaboration. French, British, American – we’ve been learning from each other since the war began.”

“You seem extremely well-informed on the subject, Sister.”
“I try and stay current, Miss Anderson. I’m sure you can understand that.”
“Indeed. Moving on, what is the reaction at the front to America’s participation in the war?”

“Relief,” I said. Our Allies have lost over a million men killed, who knows how many more wounded. British Dominions have no more men to give. Hope too. Hope that American entry into the war represents a turn of the tide.”

“You both put your citizenship at risk serving with the British. With the United States now fully in the war will you join the American Expeditionary Forces?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “The United States Air Corps is just forming up, so I have some time to make that choice."

“Captain, are you saying that you’d prefer to stay with the British as opposed to serving your own country?”

Be careful here, Oliver.

“No, Miss Anderson, I’m not saying that. I wish to serve where I can do the most good. At present, that means as a scout pilot in the Royal Flying Corps.”

“You two know each other rather well, I’m told. Sister, tell me how that started and where things stand with you.”

Nosey cow! None of your bloody business where things ‘stand.’

Eliza’s eyes narrowed. I knew that look and the last time I’d seen it was riding through Aldermaston village. Two hags on the road...

“Captain Winningstad and I met on Laconia, as he stated earlier, and two or three times subsequently in the course of our duties. As to knowing each other well, you’ve been misinformed.”

Alexandra Anderson looked to me with raised eyebrow. "Have I been misinformed, Captain?”

“Indeed you have, Miss Anderson.”

“Do either of you have any message for the people at home?”

Platitudes. Banality. That was the answer, I realized.

“We are doing are utmost for a cause in which we wholeheartedly believe,” I said. “I hope we’ve done our families and our country proud.”

“Anything to add? Well then, I think I have what I need.” The interview concluded we all stood to leave. Miss Anderson thanked us and departed. I lingered in the hallway with Eliza...


(to be continued)
_____________________________

*** Eliza’s citation inspired by (and shamelessly lifted from) the actions of Maud Alice Abraham and Ellen Byrne for which they were each awarded the Military Medal. Their names are linked to their actual citations.

Last edited by epower; 12/04/20 06:07 AM.
#4547052 - 12/04/20 07:28 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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R.Talbot Offline
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[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]


Last edited by R.Talbot; 12/04/20 07:11 PM.
#4547082 - 12/04/20 12:34 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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RAF_Louvert Offline
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
RAF_Louvert  Offline
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

R. Talbot - Welcome. Are you joining us here in the DID Campaign, and are those documents you've posted an introduction to your pilot? Context man, context!

Epower - A marvelous episode, well worth the wait. Great to see Alex back in a storyline, even if it is only briefly. But what an ambush indeed, poor Oliver and Eliza. As to the bloated Major Simpkins - just another "Ugly American".

Carrick - Well that was some gawdawful planning on German HQ's part. Terrible losses for what should have been a simple relocation. Nice screenshot though of the kette in echelon.

Raine - MacAlister's baptism by fire continues I see. He certainly did cut a swathe through the Circus. And he now stands at fifteen?! The Brass Hats must be taking notice of such a rarified performance, can't imagine your man won't be seeing some bling in the near future.

Fullofit - Please tell us Ziggy's is but a flesh wound, a mere scratch, a trifling. The Kaiser's star turn can't be out of it, not when he's so close to the century mark.

.

#4547090 - 12/04/20 01:50 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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RAF_Louvert Offline
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
RAF_Louvert  Offline
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L'Etoile du Nord
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4 December 1917
65 Squadron R.F.C.
Bailleul, France

Another early morning OP down to Lens and back for Captain Frederick Abbott and 'B' Flight. Light snow now scattered itself across the landscape, drifting along the hedgerows as well as filling the craters and marking the lines in No Man's Land. The only excitement appeared to be along the front west of the city where Fritz was busy shelling British positions in that area - the PBI was catching it. As far as air Hun were concerned, Frederick found nothing but a brace of enemy two-seaters a mile above them just east of Neuve-Chapelle, but they refused to come down and play. And when Abbott and his crew attempted to climb up to meet them the Boche simply turned tail and ran back across the lines before the Camels could get anywhere near enough to fire. A most uneventful outing, and the only one of the day as winds were howling again by morning tea, grounding all further flights.

The Poor Bloody Infantry catching it west of Lens.
[Linked Image]

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#4547093 - 12/04/20 02:13 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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R.Talbot Offline
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R.Talbot  Offline
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@Raf_Louvert,

Yep! The context is there, you just gotta read it. 😉

Lets just say you are at an estate sale and you've just randomly stumbled across some man's service records.

#4547095 - 12/04/20 02:42 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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RAF_Louvert Offline
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
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L'Etoile du Nord
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Lucky you RT, that's a fantastic find. I too have an original WWI aviator's certificate that I picked up about three years ago. A thing of beauty is a joy forever. smile2

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

[Linked Image]

.

#4547097 - 12/04/20 02:53 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
Posts: 471
epower Offline
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epower  Offline
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Posts: 471
R. Talbot - Welcome to the barminess of the DID Campaign. The mysterious entrance of your man Thompson was so realistic I had to check my RFC personnel database. Well done, indeed! Best of luck to John, or is it Jack, or Jock??

Lou - Alex is a great character and if Oliver lives long enough, I may ask Raine for another date. That is one cold looking B-Flight. You can almost feel the bitter damp chill in that screenshot.
_______________________________________________________________


À la Recherche du Temps Perdu - Part 44 of many


(continued from previous entry)


“Miss Ludlow, may I speak with you a moment?” I said, watching the reporter continue down the hall. I waited until she was descending the central stairs before speaking.

“Eliza, I didn’t know any of this. I had no idea you were wounded. Are you all right now?”

“I’m fine Oliver. It wasn’t serious. Not worthy of a wound stripe, which I wouldn’t get anyway.”

“Why were you near the front? I thought you were safe in Rouen with Mr. Grey Turner’s team.”

“Surgical teams deploy forward during a push. With thousands of casualties, the more wounded we can treat at the Clearing Stations, the more lives we can save.”

“Dozinghem, on the 20th of August no less. I flew right over you that morning. That was the day I got the Baron...”

“You what?! Von Richthofen?!”

“Or someone in his plane,” I replied. “Intelligence says he went on convalescent leave at the beginning of September and nobody’s seen him since. Who knows?”

“I’m surprised that didn’t come up with our Chicago correspondent.
“I do not like that woman,” Eliza fumed as she glowered down the staircase after the exiting Alexandra Anderson.

“You were brilliant, Eliza, navigating all those booby-trapped questions and deflecting her snooping at the end. I think she wanted us to say something damaging or controversial. Is that what sells newspapers? Boy did I ever put my foot in it with that greenhorns comment.
“Hearing her read your citation I could barely keep my emotion in check. Do you think she saw it?” I asked.

Eliza laughed humorlessly. “Oh Oliver, a blind man could read on your face what lies in your mind.

“Only when you’re in the room, Eliza.”

Distracted, she continued staring after the departed Miss Anderson. “Devil alone knows what she’s going to write.”

“Why are you here?” I asked. “Not that I mind. It’s good to see you.”

“You’re not the only one getting pressure to transfer to the US services. This medal of mine isn’t helping matters any.”

“I’ve found that some are heavier than they appear,” I said.

“A Victoria Cross, and a bar to your DSO,” she said, putting her hand on my chest as she once did before catching herself and pulling it away. “Two more wound stripes.”

“Part of the job, and for you too now. Might we go somewhere and talk? Tea maybe? Coffee? Something stronger? Hemlock?”

I thought I saw the smallest crack of a smile.
“Yes, Oliver. I’d like that,” she answered. “It’s 4 o’clock and you know how cross I can become if I don’t have a snack.”

[Linked Image]

Tempting fate, and Eliza as well, I led us north from Grosvenor Square to Oxford street and into Selfridges. After navigating the gauntlet of the entire ladies department we found the restaurant and settled into a table. Tea and sandwiches arrived, and Eliza tucked in with gusto.

“I was an ass at Grafton Galleries,” I said. “I’d give anything to take back those words. I’m so sorry, Eliza. Can you forgive me?”

“I forgave you as soon as you said them, Oliver. I won’t deny that they were hurtful.
Without going so far as to grant you cause, the fault was not entirely one-sided. I know I hurt you, Oliver. I might have done things differently in July, but I didn’t have the strength to say it to your face. I just couldn’t. You never would have accepted it anyway.”

“I don’t accept it now. You must know that.”

“How could I not, Oliver. You wrote such beautiful letters to me. You deserved a kinder response than my last note.”

“The words I wrote were those you denied me, I should have defied you and spoken them anyway for all the good my silence did me.
"Look! Two more,” I said, holding up the wounds stripes on my left sleeve. “Still alive.”

We sat in silence for a time, drinking tea, and pruning the tree of sandwiches.

“Here’s a curious thing,” I said taking the Voss round from my pocket and handing it to Eliza.
“Tell me what you see.”

“It’s been fired,” she said after examining the cartridge. “Why carry a bullet with you?”

“This is the bullet that would have killed Werner Voss. There was another just like it in my Vickers gun. Another misfire right when he was in my sights. Can you imagine the odds of two dud rounds perfectly aligned in that way?”

“What are you trying to say?”

“We have the time we have. Yes, we’re all going to die but I’ve had no vision of my death. Have you? It could be tomorrow, or a month from now or in 1996 on my 100th birthday. Why worry about it? We were never happier, either of us than when we were here in July. I can’t believe that was just a fling.”

“You know it wasn’t,” she said.

“And you took me to meet your family. Your family, for God’s sake!” I exclaimed, then lowering my voice again, “If that was a test, surely I passed.”

“First honours,” she replied. “Aunt Rhea loves you.”

“And so do you, Eliza! I see it in your face. Yet you go with Percy now.”

“Oliver, it’s not what you think. You don’t understand about him, you never have.”

“No, I don’t understand! Saying you don’t love another makes it even more confusing. I don’t understand any of it. Everything changed that day the Oak tree scalped me. What happened?!
“Did you come into my room that night and watch over me as I slept?”

She said nothing.

“I woke to the smell of lavender and walked down the hall to your room. It was not my intent to eavesdrop, but I heard your conversation with Aunt Rhea. All your conversation...do you remember what Rhea said about The Scales?

“I still live, and I may yet win through. My feelings haven’t changed. I love you, Eliza. Whether you wish it or not, you carry my heart now, you always have. Why can’t we love each other for the time we’re given?”

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” she sorrowfully. “It just can’t be. Please, Oliver, let me go.”

“Fine. Take my pinkie then and swear like we did at Grovetown.” I pulled her right hand into mine across the table.
“Go on! Look me in the eye and tell me you do not love me, or that you love another more. Do it, Eliza! If you can say that to me in truth, I’ll know, and that will be the end of it. I will pursue you no longer.”

I took her hand in mine and kissed it.

“Stop, Oliver,” she cried.

“Swear it then, and I’ll cry off.”

Eyes glistening and her face a mask of anguish, Eliza stood suddenly, grabbed her coat and, with a sob, fled the restaurant. I reached frantically for the metal in my pocket but as I stood the back of my hand struck the underside of the table spilling the coins to the floor.

Clumsy jackass!

By the time I retrieved the half crown, threw it on the table and dashed out after Eliza, she was long gone. Dejected and cursing the Gods, I returned to my table, all eyes falling on me as I sat back down, dumfounded. Then the germ of a thought stirred...

She couldn’t do it! There was still hope.

#4547100 - 12/04/20 03:11 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
Posts: 471
epower Offline
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epower  Offline
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R. Talbot - I just checked the Aero certificates. Wow. The real deal. His service record is available at the RAF museum site. Good that it's come into appreciative hands. I had that experience not long ago. Still get chills looking at the thing.

Lou - Our posts crossed in cyberspace. Incredible. Your man just made it before the Armistice.

Last edited by epower; 12/04/20 03:15 PM.
#4547103 - 12/04/20 03:32 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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RAF_Louvert Offline
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Epower - So the plot thickens further still. When will we discover what it is Eliza cannot say to her Oliver. He is a berk sometimes though, wonderful character that he is. Such is love.

To Lt. Eberts' war service: He was assigned to 32 Squadron in early fall of 1918, (though I am not sure of the exact date), flying the SE5a around the Arras area. He was with this unit until his repatriation in 1919. It appears he filed no claims, or if he did I have not been able to find them.

.

#4547109 - 12/04/20 04:09 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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epower Offline
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epower  Offline
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Lou - Our Eliza has some damage. Oliver does have his blind sports, I will admit. As for Eberts, see the attached pic. All such things can be found at the link here: https://www.casualtyforms.org/

Attached Files Eberts record.jpg
#4547111 - 12/04/20 04:13 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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RAF_Louvert Offline
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Brilliant! Thanks loads for this tidbit Epower. So he made it to the War just in time to say he'd been there.

.

#4547112 - 12/04/20 04:18 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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RAF_Louvert Offline
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L'Etoile du Nord
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Achtung!

[Linked Image]

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

[Linked Image]

You make the Vaterland most proud.

.

#4547113 - 12/04/20 04:28 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Jun 2012
Posts: 7,588
Robert_Wiggins Online smile
BWOC Survivor!...So Far!!
Robert_Wiggins  Online Smile
BWOC Survivor!...So Far!!
Hotshot

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Lindsay, Ontario, Canada
Lou

I just noticed your aviator book for Eberts and upon zooming in I was surprised to note he is a fellow Ontarian from Chatham. What a surprise


(System_Specs)
Case: Cooler Master Storm Trooper
PSU: Ultra X3,1000-Watt
MB: Asus Maximus VI Extreme
Mem: Corsair Vengeance (2x 8GB), PC3-12800, DDR3-1600MHz, Unbuffered
CPU: Intel i7-4770K, OC to 4.427Ghz
CPU Cooler: Cooler Master Seidon 240M Liquid CPU Cooler
Vid Card: ASUS GTX 980Ti STRIX 6GB
OS and Games on separate: Samsung 840 Series 250GB SSD
Monitor: Primary ASUS PG27AQ 4k; Secondary Samsung SyncMaster BX2450L
Periphs: MS Sidewinder FFB2 Pro, TrackIR 4

#4547118 - 12/04/20 05:41 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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RAF_Louvert Offline
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RAF_Louvert  Offline
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Posts: 4,499
L'Etoile du Nord
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Robert, sometimes it is a very small world.

.

#4547177 - 12/04/20 10:32 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
Posts: 471
epower Offline
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epower  Offline
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Lou - I know you'll appreciate this. I just flew a mission in my Steger Mukluks. Even clumsier than those Ugg looking half boots McCudden wears. Most immersive.

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