Lovely pictures, mate! I particularly like the last two. You could title the last one "Winged Victory."

Cheers pal. Yes it's good sometimes when they don't explode when they hit the ground, gives a chance for some good pictures.

NR, yup Die Socke Flieger. That’s how the enemy will end up knowing Oberleutnant Rudi Emil Fuchs.
Hold on a second, if Kaiser and the Prussian sharpshooters aren’t the only problems, what else do the British have to worry about? Oh, I see, three patrols a day. I have to say I’ve never had the pleasure. Must be that special relationship between HQ and the 64th. God have mercy on your soul.

Albert, I like that - supreme sock darner. It has a nice ring to it. Now I want one of those Sanke cards! It would definitely be a collector’s item. As to that kill, I feel almost ashamed to take credit for it. The Frenchman must have been wounded before Rudi got to him. Probably a big, gaping hole where his head should have been.
Now back to Jacob. A well spent bottle of brandy. It looks like it is working already. First mission with no enemy encounters. I would say it is protecting Jacob as intended.
The afternoon stint was just as good. Few minor holes in the wing in return for an entire French bomber. Not a bad return on investment, I would say. Oh, and one last thing Oberflugmeister .......... nice paint job!

Jules M. Dubra
Sgt, Esc 26
Hetomesnil, Aerodrome
Marne


2 Victory's
1 Unconfirmed

April 25, 1918.

We had up 10 a/c for 1st light Line Patrol. We were in two Vee formations as we finished up then my flight leader dove. I was tail end charlie so waited for the rest of the flight to nose down on 2 Ground attack types 2 Seat ?. As my a/c plummeted towards them, My flight leader took fire and started to burn the the E/a wings fell off. I leveled off to watch the other a/c was attacked by our Ace ( Sevin ) a puff of smoke then the e/a burned and dove into the ground far below. I felt rather odd as we divide his personal stuff later that night. We chipped in a few francs each and sent them over to the local Orphanage as payment.

Tross - Suppose so! Guess 'the bomber always gets through' doesn't quite apply to this war. I too find it quite amazing, though I guess half of these times it's less 'seeing the enemy' and more 'engaging the enemy', given how they don't seem to pay much attention to us.. It is forced encounters set to off and regional frequency at medium, right? Guess it's a streak of really bad luck. Or good, depending on how one wants to see it. Been that way for Dean today too, funnily enough.

What a great paintjob indeed, fitting for Jacob. Great screenshots! The sun in the second one, wow. And of course good job with the Breguet, even if it couldn't be confirmed.

Fullofit - The enemies shall fear when they hear the legendary Socke Flieger is around.
Well, there's the three patrols a day... and undercooked potatoes and lack of tea, those are very much a problem too!
Regardless, HQ really does like dumping all their problems onto the 64th it seems, can't have a break!

Carrick - Well, no one does like burning to death. I'm sure the francs will be appreciated.



2/LT Dean Andrews Cunningham
№64 Squadron RAF
Izles-Les-Hameux, Flanders
April 25th, 1918.

Today I want to weep. Weep and, as it pains me to say, wish terrible luck on our Captain Hayden for his conduct today.

The day begun with good weather and grand reveal that our target for tonight would be the airfield over at Bapaume, which I think at this point we are all getting so used to we may as well land and get acquintanced with the crews themselves. Thankfully our spirits were slightly replenished once we found out that finally for a sortie of this kind we would carry cooper bombs to finally deal some substantial damage to our foe. With the bombs strapped to our planes, we took off as B flight, A flight too busy preparing for a patrol elsewhere and headed over the lines. Unfortunately, bad luck struck me again, as during the flight my release mechanism was accidentally(*1) triggered and the bombs flew into the friendly soil and landed in a patch of woods. With a sigh I flew on in the formation, figuring I may at least get to strafe something again. The rest of the flight went peacefully, with us crossing the lines over the all too familiar landmarks and turned to attack the field itself. It was then when I noticed two things. The first one was an entire flight of Boche scouts flying directly above us, though it seems they were not noticing us just yet, even despite the Archie starting to shoot at us. The second, coming to me just as we started to drop bombs onto the field with the explosions blowing at least one Hun tent apart was that there was another flight of boches lined up, preparing to take off. Easy prey for us to pick off and destroy right as they were taking off, especially with the Albatrosses above not noticing us, giving us a perfect chance and yet...

To my most complete disappointment, Captain Hayden at the head of our formation decided that it was not worth it, and instead our formation started to head for home. Dejected, I joined them as I watched the Huns slowly climb and start to form up for their own sortie, and despite my intense tempation to dive on them while they were still low I wasn't about to go against six entire aircraft backed up by several very angry machinegun crews and probably hundreds or so Hun riflemen stationed nearby. Still ignored by the Albatrosses flying away from us we managed to cross the lines and land with no trouble.

Soon after we landed the weather turned terrible, with heavy clouds and rain setting in and starting to dispel the thoughts of another flight when suddenly alarms blared. A flight of Hun bombers were heading straight for our field, and despite the weather we rushed to intercept, climbing into our craft and taking off into the rain, seeing the Huns right above our field as we climbed. To my still greater frustration though, halfway through our climb we seen explosions at our field, followed by rising smoke from the explosions while the bombers begun to turn around and head back home. By the time we climbed to altitude, they were almost gone, fading in and out of the clouds and thus it seems Hayden again decided to not dedicate himself and give chase. Unable to handle this frustration, I admit I sinned and using a cloud bank as a convenient cover story, I broke off and pushing my engine to its limit flew after the bomber formation, hoping to catch at least one of them before they could form up into a massive wall of machineguns again. Flying through clouds and losing them again and again though, I only managed to catch up and get close when we were halfway over the lines and they were already tightly formed up.... Practically screaming in frustration, I spent fired a single long angry burst into their tails, even though I was too far to hit, running a drum mag dry and sharply breaking as several of their gunners decided to return the favour and fire back at me.

Returning home, I found the field to be in a mostly okay condition, save for a few holes and burst fences. It was also then when I was questioned as to where I have gone off from the formation, to which I lied spinning up a tale about how I lost sight of the flight in the clouds and then ended up getting lost and taking a long while to orientate myself and find my way back to the field. Satisfied with this, Hayden simply warned me to not get lost again lest I accidentally land behind enemy lines, and I retreated out of the rain to my tent, frustrated with our squadron and by own choice flight leader's choices during and the sheer amount of disappointments today...






*1 - 'Accidentally triggered' meaning me trying to figure out the bomb selection/release buttons and accidentally dropping them.

NR - The swines! Flying high above like that, like cats on a fence tormenting the hounds below. As for this chasing alone after bomber formations, be patient, young padawan. Dean will get his chance, but must make certain he doesn't go racing to his death. Repeat after Uncle Oliver: Alone is dead.
I say! Bad form Machine Gunners, shooting at one of our own chaps! Glad Dean made is safely down. I guess the Wolseley's aren't immune to accidents after all. At least they aren't Hispanos. SEs flying into the morning. Great stuff.
"What do we do with a sleeping Hun? What do we do with a sleeping Hun
What do we do with a sleeping Hun, early in the morning?
Wake him up with a Cooper Bomb. Wake him up with a Cooper Bomb
Wake him up with a Cooper Bomb early in the morning."

Albert - Jacob is leading the flight now. Congrats! Not entirely sure what a knees up might be. I don't get invited to those types of parties anymore. Another case of two peoples separated by a common language. Most unfortunate about the unconfirmed kills. Next time you must... well, you know the rest of it. But what's this?! Promotion! H & B and whatever the German naval equivalent of Bravo Zulu might be. Excellent pics. Thae is a monstrous lot of Huns lined up there. BTW, the plywood on Jacobs Albatros looks like cork. And this Nordic symbol... A secret new technology?

Lou - Freddy is now the Aviateur Célèbre. He and Oliver must discuss all this pageantry surrounding the Baron von Richthofen. Those wreath bearers look less than happy to be there. Hope the leg is on the mend. Crossovers await!

Carrick - Two kills and both confirmed! Incroyable! Jules will be handing out fanciful underclothes like candy after this. The flamer pic falling down through the clouds was particularly evocative.

Fullofit - I'm pleased to inspire your catchup efforts. Even more pleased to learn that Rudi may not have a dose of clap. Time will tell. At least Rudi is spending time on the important things in life, like darning socks, and now he supplants the late lamented Baron as Kanone Kaiser. A great achievement both in game and with the speed of your epoweresque catchup. Bravo! I shall seek to emulate your example.
______________________________________

À la Recherche du Temps Perdu - Part 78



20 April 1918
84 Squadron RFC
Bertangles, France

10.30 Bright and clear this morning. Jack Sorsoleil led B Flight with Manzer, Southey, Duke, Sumsion and Falkenburg on a patrol of our lines between Corbie and Beaumont Hamel. The Maj came along today and flew my wing.

At the lines we tangled with two flights of Albatri. I hit one very hard and from close range. He started smoking. As I lined up the coup de grace, tracers flashed past my right wing. I broke hard then reversed to see a white-tailed V-Strutter turning back into me. We scissored, and went round for a good minute. This one was an Alte Hare and handled his machine with considerable skill. A long-range snapshot scored a lucky hit and he dove away. I stayed high and put on a new drum.

By this time the fight had worked low. I dove and put a burst into a third Albatros. The Hun broke hard to the left, then spun out of control and crashed into a field.


This time I have witnesses!

Just the one patrol for B Flight. Weather rolled in this afternoon. Heavy overcast and a low cloud ceiling. C Flight went up at 4.30 and strafed and bombed a large formation of Huns during which Captain E.H. Tatton was hit by Flak and killed. He flew with 41 Squadron in 1916 and spent the first half of last year with 24. He was with us just 2 weeks.

Johnson’s flight has come through and he leaves tomorrow for No. 24 Squadron. Percy Hobson is back from Le Touquet. We toasted his MC in person this time. Johnson’s sendoff was heartfelt but with Tatton's death hanging over the squadron the night's celebration remained subdued.



21 April 1918
84 Squadron RFC
Bertangles, France

The entire squadron were on standby an hour before dawn. All 16 Vipers warmed up and ready to fly at a moment’s notice.

5.45 Wireless message reporting heavy activity above Beaumont Hamel. 84 Squadron were airborne three minutes later. Proccy had A Flight. Robin led B Flight. I flew his wing with Manzer, Southey, Duke, Christian, McBride and Sorsoleil.

12000 feet over the lines. High above an entire Jasta of Albatri.


I felt the icy stab of fear but the Huns flew on unseeing, then turned away south.

Ten minutes later I saw A flight peel off and engage. At the same time Robin signaled contact to the east. Closing we identified a high flight of enemy 2 seaters. Rumplers! We chased the 5 Huns east and caught them over Bapaume. They broke from their wedge formation then and circled to around to port flying back toward us. Why would they break formation like that? Madness. The Huns were strung out and vulnerable. I closed to attack from below.


If only I might fire my Lewis upward…


B Flight followed in. All 5 Rumplers fell…

...but not without cost. Christian and McBride were killed. The rest of B Flight were badly shot about and 5 machines were out of action. 3 would be written off entirely. C5333 would be out of action for the day. I would fly one of the Hispano-powered spares in the afternoon. Not the equal of the Viper at higher altitudes but it would serve.
 
12.30 Offensive patrol over the southeastern outskirts of Albert. I led with Dingbat, Duke, Southey and Falkenburg. Major Douglas joined once again as my wingman and deputy leader.


Why do they paint their planes in silver?

It was all to easy to sight in the silver Pfalz. He fell thunderously southeast of Albert.


A second Pfalz crawled away east. He would not see home again.


With Major Douglas on my wing, we returned to Bertangles.

I made my report to Captain Burke. As he had for yesterday’s Albatros, the Maj signed off on both claims having witnessed the two Pfalz crash.

Wing endorsed Major Douglas’ report. All three outstanding claims confirmed. One Hundred Thirty-three.

After lunch I was working the bag when a commotion erupted nearby. A large crowd approached and I soon found out the cause. The Baron Von Richthofen was dead! Shot down near Vaux just west of Corbie. The Australians of No 3 Squadron AFC took charge of his wrecked plane and the Baron himself. The tender carrying his body was just drawing into 84 Squadron’s spare canvas hangar! Ours was the only such building at Bertangles currently unoccupied.

I went with Proccy to see the wreck of the Baron’s Triplane, now under guard. A bit late that, since the Triplane had already been stripped clean by souvenir hunters. The wreck was nonetheless an object of great curiosity. A photographer documented the scene.


Proccy far right, I stood to his left.

Major Blake, who had charge of Von Richthofen’s remains set up a temporary mortuary and after an examination of the body, began organizing the funeral scheduled for tomorrow afternoon. A long line of officers and men filed into our hangar to view the Baron.

I despised Voss and rejoiced in his death, but the Baron was different. I felt a connection to the man of a kind one experiences after fighting to the death. Eleven times I’d faced the Baron’s men. Eleven men I sent down with seven confirmed. Twice an all-red Albatros. The first time, in August over Jabbeke, I know it was he. Nevertheless, he survived and the myth grew larger.

He looked so little, laying there on the plank, with eyes still partly open and wounds on his face where his head struck the gun butt in the landing. He almost looked like he was smiling. Had he glimpsed the next world before he died?

Seeing him lifeless, the feared leader of the Luftstreitkräfte, it was impossible not to feel conflicting emotion. On the one hand I was glad Germany’s leading ace was gone, but I couldn’t escape a feeling of sadness and sense of loss for what his death signified. Voss had been Germany’s best flier, but Von Richthofen was the Kaiser’s Champion. His death severed the last link to a different world, a different more personal war where men might yet face each other in single combat. I saw the future. We would contest the plains of Troy but ours would be an Iliad without heroes. No man slaughtering Hektor or swift-footed Achilles. Diomedes, Odysseus, the sons of Atreus and Priam…all of them gone. There would be no difference now between the war we fought in the air and the slaughter in the trenches below. Massed formations and anonymous killing were the order of the day. The Baron was dead. O quam cito transit gloria mundi.



22 April 1918
84 Squadron RFC
Bertangles, France

The Huns gather for another attack. Indications are strong that they will try for Villers-Bretonneux. Last night’s orders were for a dawn attack on the Peronne rail junction. A Flight would provide top cover. I led the strike group with Major Douglas flying my wing. Falkenburg, Manzer, Southey and Clear.


“Now Dawn the yellow-robed arose from the river of Ocean
to carry her light to men and immortals.”


No opposition. We left the rail yard in ruins.


11.50 Patrol of our lines from the Corbie road south to Villers Bretonneux. Robin leading myself, Dingbat, Manzer, Clear and Southey. At the lines, A Flight engaged a kette of 2-seaters.
Ten minutes later and entire Jasta of Albatri appeared above.


Out of nowhere! How did I not see them coming?!

The enemy held their altitude advantage masterfully. B Flight were defensive throughout. Try as I might I couldn’t get out from under the cloud of Huns. A well-aimed burst caught my right wing and severed the starboard aileron cables. C5333 wallowed and refused all but the most violent demands to roll. I had no choice but to spin out of the fight.

Inexcusable to be caught like this!

I flew west in a rage. The Hun followed. My temper got the better of my reason and I turned to fight. C5333 could still move left and around we went, neither gaining advantage. I swooped low across the circle and pulled hard into a climbing attack. I missed with my short burst but not by much. Unnerved, the Albatros broke away east. I continued west for Bertangles.

At 4:30 this afternoon the Australians buried Baron von Richthofen. The funeral cortege began near the AFC-3 hangars, continued north up the road dividing the West and East aerodromes, broke right toward the Chateaux, and then made a left hand, northward turn arriving ultimately at the Bertangles Cemetery. I thought I saw Freddy in a staff car with some French officers. I waved but he didn’t see me.

Not quite the funeral of man slaughtering Hector but nearly so. Twenty-four Diggers fired a salute. Four wreaths from the various squadrons and one from 22nd Wing. Men walked by saluting the grave. I turned and walked away in a dark turn of mind.

How long before it was my body roped to a plank in some musty hangar? Would the Padre stumble over words I didn’t believe as they lowered my coffin into the earth? I have a horror of interment. Better to burn on the funeral pyre or slip beneath the waves. Since New Year’s I carried Clarissa’s Sovereign in my wallet. This evening Evans fitted a strong brass link for the hole so I might wear her charm around my neck. If the Baron could fall, I would need all the protection I could muster.
 


23 April 1918
84 Squadron RFC
Bertangles, France

4.50 Another strike on the Peronne Rail junction. The Huns have shelled Corbie and Villers Bretonneux as well. I worry for Madame and her daughters.
Once again, the Maj flew my wing, along with Southey, Clear, Falkenburg and Manzer.


We climbed above the rain and mist


Poor conditions thwarted our bombing. Many of our bombs flew wide.

Wing were most insistent regarding a second strike. I couldn’t help but agree.
We never got close to the lines. One mile north of Doullens we tangled with a large flight of Albatri.


“If he only crashes this side in flames,
Well, you’ll only know they’ll believe your claims—”

Proccy led A Flight out on a late afternoon offensive patrol and attacked a flight of nine Triplanes. Duke, though beset by Huns and wounded in the arm, sent a Triplane down. He crashed on landing and is now in hospital.

Wing rejected my flaming Albatros! So much for Morse’s ditty.

My thoughts remain gloomy. The Baron’s death weighs heavily on my mind.

.

Epower - Oliver and Freddy have quite different views on MvR’s passing, so a lively discussion there methinks when next they join up. Had they met at the funeral they could have talked about it then, but that was quite the crowded affair so no surprise they missed each other. Ripper just keeps right on ripping through the Hun, however he needs to push those dark thoughts away. Dwelling on death is paramount to an invite to the Grim Reaper. I will say though that your man had every right to fear that formation of twelve Albatri high above, and he’s lucky they failed to notice him. Super screenshots.

NotRelevant - I feel young Dean’s pain on that unintentional bomb release, more than a few of my pilots have done the exact same thing over the years. Captain Hayden sounds an overly-cautious type, which will aid in keeping your man alive, but it certainly won’t win the war. Sounds like he called it right though on the bombers, he knew they couldn’t be caught until they were well over hostile ground. Ah well, there’s always tomorrow. As for that mystery attack on his mount of the 23rd, chalk it up to the fog of war. He’s just lucky he walked away from it all with only a grazing.

Carrick - Jules is on the board I see with two confirmed, well done! Too bad though about the loss of his flight mate. At least the orphans saw some small benefit from it.

BuckeyeBob - “Winged Victory”, catchy, would make a good title for a book.

Albert - Congratulations to Oberflugmeister Jacob Kühn on his well-earned promotion. And a fine livery in recognition of his newfound status. He wasted no time in putting “Thor’s Hammer” to the test from the looks of it, though unfortunate his French B/R bus was denied. Can’t have everything I suppose. Excellent screenies, as always.
It was kind of the French major to give Freddy a lift, and Abbott returned the favor by sharing some of his scotch with his Entente friends when they gave him a ride back to camp.

Fullofit - So Rudi now has a new title as well, “Supreme Darner of Socks”, most fitting. Can’t wait to see that Sanke card. And with the loss of the Baron and your man surpassing his score that card should be released very soon. Brill videos, in particular that one catching the Spad tearing itself apart in a spin. Also, Rudi’s deflection shots are most impressive, he could be a gunnery instructor.

Trooper - Stick around a while, fresh scones are on the way along with some hot coffee, either plain or Irish. As for that dead pilot’s watch, he won’t be needing it anymore.


A most enjoyable catch-up, as always. Now to Captain Abbott, he did manage a 45 minute flight yesterday to stretch his bum leg, which resulted in him having to rest it for the remainder of the afternoon upon his return. He’s going to keep pushing it though as the intends to be back in combat in the next day or two. The office paper shuffling is getting very old.

.

Not to mention as Charon's payment to ferry Ripper across the river Styx, persish the thought.

Outstanding storytelling, as always, ePower, as well as everyone else!

Good one, Bob. I didn't think about using that coin for old Charon. Thanks for that.
Oliver may use it for some dark jest.

As usual, lots to catch up on. Great stories gents!

Carrick - A good attack on those two seaters but bad luck for the flight leader. It just shows you that it only takes a bullet in the wrong place and BOOM you're up in flames. A nice touch donating to the orphanage.

NR - At least you've 'met' the enemy now. It's always a tough call for a CO, 'do we chase them or not', he's probably still got the losses from those ground attack sorties you did on his mind. It's always risky chasing them on your own though especially in thick cloud. You've only got to get it a little wrong coming through a cloud and you could have 3 or 4 machine guns barking at you.

Epower - Congratulations on the confirmed kills, 133 now, jeez. Shame about Tatton and then two more lost attacking those Rumplers. The way they curl away to give their gunners a shot, it's tricky staying directly behind them.

A great job on that railyard, it looks destroyed, but we know it'll be up and running tomorrow. Great shot of Richthofen's wreck with titchy Proccy there too.

As for Jacob's paint scheme. It's the standard MFJ scheme for the DVa, no cork as far as I know but that would be a neat trick, maybe the bullets would bounce off. Jacob chose Thor's hammer for protection, whilst he sends the enemy to Valhalla.

Lou - Ahh that must have felt good for Freddy getting a run out in his kite. He must be bursting at the seams. There's only so much pen pushing anyone can put up with.

Oberflugmeister Jacob Kühn
Marine-Feld-Jagdstaffel 1
Jabbeke airfield

14 confirmed kills

26th April 1918

Later on in the evening of 25th, Oberleutenant Saschenberg took a call from HQ. On finishing the call, he sent for Leutenant Heinrich and Jacob.

Jacob had been relaxing in the kasino with the others but on receiving the summons he walked over to Saschenberg's office.

On entering, he saw Leutenant Heinrich was already there.

"Ah Oberflugmeister, thank you for being prompt, please take a seat" said Saschenberg.

"HQ has requested our presence tomorrow at Evere airfield near Brussels" Saschenberg continued

"We will be there to test fly a new aircraft, designed and built by the Fokker firm. It's full title is the Fokker DVII." he confirmed.

Jacob looked delighted but surprised.

"Don't look so amazed herr Oberflugmeister, why wouldn't I want my top Kanone there to try this new bird out?" Saschenberg explained.

"Heinrich, you and I will be travelling over to Brussels first thing in the morning. We need to be at Evere by midday. Several other navy pilots will be present as well" he continued.

"Once the testing is complete, we should be able to grab some refreshment in town before heading back here" the Oberleutenant confirmed.

"Go get some rest meine herren, we will be off early in the morning" Saschenberg concluded.

"Aye, aye sir" said Jacob and Heinrich who both saluted and left.


The next morning, the three airmen were sat in a staff car which was racing along dusty lanes towards Evere.

"This new aircraft has been in development for a while now. It's much faster than the DVa, those SE5's won't be able to simply fly away from us. It's also very maneuverable and the engine runs very well at altitude" stated Saschenberg to his colleagues.

"Well.....that's what it says in the brochure!" joked the Oberleutenant

Jacob grinned at the remark, he had already heard of the DVII and was looking forward to trying it out.

After a long trek the car pulled into Evere airfield and the three airmen got out and walked into the office. Saschenberg spoke to the adjutant and then returned to Jacob and Heinrich.

"We can go and get changed now, most of the other pilots are already here. I'll introduce you" said Saschenberg.

They left the office and walked across to the barracks which were serving as changing rooms. As they got there, another group of pilots were stood in front of the barracks.

"Theo! mein gott they must be scraping the barrel if they need you to test this bird too" exclaimed Saschenberg to one of the crowd of pilots.

"Ahh Gotthard, late as usual" replied one of the navy pilots who now walked over towards Jacob's group.

Saschenberg introduced the pilot, "Meine herren, may I introduce Oberleutenant Theo Osterkamp, once of Marine-Feld-Jagdstaffel 1 himself but now in charge of the second Jasta" stated Saschenberg.

"Theo, you've met Leutenant Heinrich before, but let me introduce you to our new naval uberkanone, Oberflugmeister Jacob Kühn" said Saschenberg.

Jacob saluted. Osterkamp responded but said "Enough of such formalities Oberflugmeister. Please call me Theo, whilst we're here and there's no brass around anyway" said Osterkamp in a friendly way that put Jacob totally at ease.

Over the next twenty minutes Jacob also met Oberleutenant Friedrich Christiansen, another naval ace as well as several other pilots.

Eventually the main business started and Jacob was in the hanger with the other pilots listening to a lecture about the new Fokker from one of the company's test pilots.

The lecture dragged on seemingly forever, but at last it was time to begin the flights.

Jacob found he was number four on the list. He watched as the first pilot climbed into the sleek looking Fokker and took off. He watched in awe as the aircraft tore down the airfield and climbed incredibly quickly.

The pilots ahead of Jacob all took their turns and finally it was Jacob's turn.

He climbed in and took off, the engine was very powerful and the aircraft soared into the air. Jacob put the new aircraft through a series of manoeuvres, rolls, Immelmann's and loops.

His twenty minutes seemed to zoom past and in no time at all he was landing.

"How was it Jacob?" asked Saschenberg

"Unbelievable Herr Oberleutenant, we must have this aircraft as soon as possible" said an enthused Jacob.

"Ha I thought you might be impressed" laughed Saschenberg

Once the testing and reporting was finished Saschenberg, Heinrich, Osterkamp and Jacob were driven into Brussels itself.

They made for a bar which Saschenberg and Osterkamp clearly already knew. The Cafe Rubens was run by Madame Dufere and was homely enough Jacob thought and with wonderful paintings adorning the panelled walls it had an air of something far grander.

Jacob and the others spent a very enjoyable few hours there before having to say their goodbyes and head back to Jabbeke. But not before he made the acquaintance of several local nurses who frequented the cafe from the nearby hospital.

"Back to normal tomorrow Jacob" said Saschenberg as they made their way to their respective rooms.

"Sounds good to me herr Oberleutenant. Goodnight sir" said Jacob.

Jules M. Dubra
Sgt, Esc 26
Hetomesnil, Aerodrome
Marne


2 Victory's
1 Unconfirmed


April26, 1918.

Lost 2 flight mates today in a swirling melee over an enemy AF and claimed 4 e/a on Offensive Patrol. We started out with 10 a/c, but one went home rough engine ? I was tail end again. The flight dove on 6 Tri-planes which pulled us over an enemy AF soon 5 Vee struts joined in the furball
Mon Dieu, , Zee Boche was everywhere. I stayed firing at every Allemand machine til a Vee strut dropped on my tail then it was run or get Zee Ax. Counted 15 holes in my mount that night. Again we divided our 2 fallen wingmates stuff among us I took his LT's Kepi ( thinking some day ) and extra flying coat along with a framed Picture of his Lady Friend nice to see before sleep. But ta course chipped in more Franc's for orphans Score: 4 e/a for 2 Spads.

Albert: MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM, Nurses

AT, Kuhn is climbing the ladder swiftly. 13 victories, a promotion and testing the new machine we have heard so much about.

Carrick, Jules is doing well, stay safe. Great screenshots as usual.

NR, those were some tough losses on the airfield attack. They are mighty dangerous. At least you were able to walk away from the engine failure.

Epower and Lou, looking forward to what you two have in store. Excellent writing.

Fullofit, look at you! German Ives highest scoring ace now that the Baron is gone.

Feldwebel Ludwig Kemp
Jasta 56
Hospital, Roulers
April 26, 1918

Beckman had visited yesterday with news of von Richtofen. It was not clear at the time if he was alive or dead but Beckman did not hold out much hope. “I’ll have to write Pappa and tell him, but I would think he has already heard” Kemp responded, then added, I should be back in a week. The doctor says I am healing well.”
Beckman laughed, “and not a moment too soon my boy. You are sorely needed!” Beckman looked around. “Where is that lovely nurse that was tending to you?”
Kemp smiled, “Mia? You just missed her. She changed my bandages this morning.”

As Kemp thought of Beckman’s visit, he was snapped back to the present by the voice of Mia. “How are we feeling today Ludwig?” Kemp looked up at the angel staring down at him. “Much better......Now.”

Albert – good to see Jacob get the chance to lead his flight! And then to follow that up with a promotion and a new livery…

Carrick – congratulations on bagging two in the same patrol.

NR – at least your engine quit when you were able to land on the right side of the lines. You are getting more than your share of ground attack missions. You’ll have to remind headquarters that 64 is no longer flying DH5s.

Fullofit – that was pretty impressive the way your Spad spun itself to pieces!

Epower – it’s beginning to scare me how often we look up to see the sky full of Albatri these days. Good job staying out of nasty situations. Lucky touch being at Bertangles when Richthofen lay in state.

Lou – it will be good to see Freddie back in action. I agree with Albert that there is only so much pen pushing men can do.

MFair – I’d send your man a “get well soon” wish, but I think he’s having too much fun in hospital to want that.


War Journal of Captain George Ewan MacAlister, DSO, DSC
74 Squadron, RAF
No. 4 Stationary Hospital
Saint Omer, France

Part 37



“’e’s ‘ad it.”

“Not at all. ‘e’s ‘olding ‘er. Sixpence says ‘e puts it down.”

The crippled SE5 banked slightly as it passed overhead the two Tommies. They dropped the firewood they had been gathering and ran to the next field.

“’e’s got no bloody wing,” said Jimmy. The sound of the crash broke off the conversation. First came the thud and then the succession of crinkling, crunching sounds. Then came the flame, visible through the brush of the tree line. Emerging onto the field, they came upon a hundred yards of devastation. Bits of aeroplane littered the potato field. At the far end was a pile of wreckage slightly bigger than the rest, host to a roaring fire. The two men walked now. There was no point in running. As they approached, Nigel – the second man – could see into the cockpit. The pilot was not visible. They backed away as the ammunition began to cook and fire, first in short clusters of pops and then in longer bursts. It took several minutes to end.

“Not in a thousand years. You’d never get me up in one of these things,” said Jimmy. Nigel stood some distance off staring down.

“You won’t believe this,” he said.

So I met my rescuers on the fine sunny morning of 24 April 1918. I’m told I chatted quite pleasantly despite a large gash on my forehead and even said a few humorous things. I’m afraid I have no recollection of the event at all and soon passed out. I awoke a full two days later to find myself on a hospital train at Saint Omer, about to be unloaded like a sack of flour and brought to the hospital that will be my home for another week or two.

But I have not kept up with my story and I must relate the events that brought me here.

Back on the eighteenth we had a spell of bad weather that allowed me to spend some time getting to know my new squadron and mates. It did not take long. Within a couple of days I was referring to my mount as a “grid,” and answered to the name “Matey,” for which I have to thank Mick Mannock. 74 Squadron was a serious fighting squadron. Both Mick and Taffy Jones, my fellow flight commanders and hut companions, were students of war flying. I might have more Huns to my credit but I had much to learn from both of them. Mick had a passionate belief that success came from good shooting and good shooting came from good weapons and a killer attitude. He insisted that I join him in inspecting every round that was loaded in his belts or drums, and he showed me some tricks of the trade to reduce the possibility of gun jams – where to add a touch of grease and where to file a bit of metal. He left nothing to chance.

I discovered that the squadron had a keen rugby team and was invited to play. It was an all-ranks affair against 46 Squadron and deadly serious. I am told that 74 has already played three games and has not lost. Fortunately, I did not spoil the record.

I led my first patrol here on 20 April, a DOP over to Monchy and beyond. We saw nothing that we had the slightest hope of catching and returned home empty-handed.

The following day we did a squadron show led by “Grid” Caldwell, the OC. Far to the south near Arras we ran into a formation of Pfalz scouts. The fight broke up amid walls of cumulus and I emerged from a cloud bank to find myself alone with a beautiful white and red Pfalz. We skated about the sky for nearly ten minutes. By all rights I should have been able to finish off a Pfalz; but this Hun was good, and I was not sorry when lack of fuel caused us both to break away and head home.

That afternoon we scrapped with several Albatri and I sent one down in flames but was too far from the other fellows for my kill to be witnessed. Dolan got one confirmed. We paid for it with the life of Begbie, who was shot down in flames.

That evening we heard that Von Richthofen had been killed. It was Mannock who announced it. One of the fellows suggested that he had been a brave adversary and he was sorry to see him finished. Mannock was scathing in his response and suggested that the fellow send home for his petticoats. Despite this, a toast was proposed at dinner to the dead Baron. A little more than half the officers responded. The rest sat silent. I’m not sure how I felt. Sitting next to Mannock I did not drink the toast. Still, I felt a little sad that we could not put a more gentlemanly face on the war. But war is not a gentlemanly business, I suppose.

On 22 April we scrapped with a very large formation of Fokker triplanes. The Huns are flying in very large gaggles these days and we found ourselves greatly outnumbered. It was a chilling experience from which I returned with no fewer than twenty-four bullet holes in my grid.

23 April 1918 was a good day. In the morning we received word of enemy activity to the south near Bethune. It took a good half hour to reach our patrol area from Clairmarais and we patrolled our beat for another half-hour before encountering a group of eight Pfalz scouts. I saw “Clem” Clements on the tail of one of the Huns and joined in the chase. As soon as Clem broke away, I fired and the enemy machine began to spew smoke and flame. This was confirmed as number forty-eight.

That afternoon we flew a squadron show over the enemy lines near Loos. There we met an equally large group of Fokker triplanes. These are interesting scraps because of the great difference between the triplane and the SE. If you try to turn with the triplane it will kill you. You have to use your speed and the strength of the SE in a dive to make slashing attacks at the enemy. In the event, I shot pieces out of numerous EA but did no fatal damage to any of them until late in the scrap when I saw a lone Fokker making eastward. I dived on it and put a long burst into him. The machine fell and I lost it against the ground. I reported it only has driven down but to my surprise a heavy artillery battery confirmed that the machine had crashed west of Sainte Marguerite. The count stands at forty-nine.

24 April was another squadron show, and once again we ran into an equally large formation of triplanes. My first rule of survival in these scraps is to stay above the main fight so that I can pick my opportunity. For some reason that did not seem to be possible with these Huns. They must have had the same clan as me. All I knew is that I stayed above the fight and had three triplanes there all to myself, each taking turns shooting bits off my machine. Discretion being the better part and all that, I dived into the nearest cloud and emerged in the most sickening spin I have ever experienced. I lost nearly 10,000 feet before, with the throttle full off and full left rudder, I brought the machine onto an uneasy level glide. I switched off because of the smell of petrol leaking from somewhere. Fortunately none of the Huns had followed me. The machine was barely controllable and a glance to my left told me why. Both wings were broken off at the outer strut. By God’s good grace I was pointed to the north-west. Heaven knows I would not have been able to turn about had I been pointed toward Hunland. The ground came up, treeline after treeline. As I tried to level off the machine lurched over to the left and side-slipped towards the ground, clipping some treetops and smashing into a potato field.

I am still piecing together how I got here.

My god! I thought MacAlister had bought the farm! How did you survive that one mate. Scared me to death ye did.

Albert - Oh my, what's with this new machine? I'm not sure the King's airmen will like this development. Madame Dufere looks like she makes a mean cocktail. Do the waitstaff at Cafe Rubens favor that artist's substantial models? I do hope the Marine Flieger got on with the nurses. Great old photographs.

Lou - Freddy looks like he'll be match fit very soon. So much the better. Administrivia becomes tedious I'm sure. I've no doubt the boys would have a most animated discussion about the late (and not so) lamented Baron.

Carrick - Jules and his mates sure are having a rough time of it. Perhaps this lady friend might be consoled by Jules' company, and some nice underwear, of course.

MFair - Excellent to see Ludwig healing quickly, well not too quickly I trust. The lovely nurse Mia hasn't given him a sponge bath yet, or has she?

Riane - Congrats on 49. Greater congratulations on Mac's survival. Gods below! Looks like we got us another Ripper here. Excellent job landing the machine softly enough to survive the crash. If Oliver and Mac get together again they'll have some stories to swap.

À la Recherche du Temps Perdu - Part 79



24 April 1918


Early morning line patrol, Villers-Bretonneux to the Corbie-Amiens road. Five DFWs flew eastward at our altitude.


Dangerous to trade fire with the Observer but I got away with it.


One by one the DFWs fell


In after him! Southey had the penultimate Hun smoking.


I changed my Lewis drum and wrestled the gun back up the Foster mount. Southey sent the smoking DFW down in flames. Alone, turned toward the last of the Huns. It was then I saw them, the Baron’s men…


“But when the sun god stood bestride the middle heaven,
then the father balanced his golden scales, and in them
he set two fateful portions of death, which lays men prostrate,
for Trojans, breakers of horses, and bronze-armed Achaians,
and balanced it by the middle. The Achaians death day was the heaviest.
There the fates of the Achaians settled down to the bountiful
earth, while those of the Trojans were lifted into the wide sky.”





Down came the Flying Circus. Tri-winged shapes against the empty blue they swarmed, grown to a vast menace.

Down came the Flying Circus, vengeance in their hearts, sighting a solitary foe of long acquaintance.

Down came the Flying Circus, in anger for their fallen champion, and none could withstand their onslaught.

I was one, versus many. Dodging the first two Huns, I broke hard right as a third attacked. He made no vain cast.

My goggles shattered. Something heavy jabbed my left shoulder, sending an icy jolt of agony down my left arm. A molten lash striped across my back. I snapped backwards in reaction, pulling the stick further back and right. The action sent C5333 down in a spin. The bullet knocked the wind from me. I fought for breath. Pushing the throttle wide open and I pointed C5333 down. The airspeed indicator pegged, rigging sang in an angry whine and the telltale standing wave rose on the wing canvas; one wave, then another. A third and she’d fly apart. I eased out of the dive at well over 200mph and fled west toward the mud.

Down came the Flying Circus…



Racing across the Hun trenches the grey borders of my vision constricted into a blurry tunnel of red. Tracers zipped through the planes as I dropped lower. One struck with a metallic clank followed by the hiss of escaping coolant.

I struggled to breathe and my numbed fingers barely held the throttle. My vision swam. Blood sheeted over my left eye. I needed to land.

NR, hmm that was some good luck with neither of the enemy flights taking any retaliatory action. It’s no wonder they’re not winning this war. But missing such an opportunity to attack the Albatroses with their pants down should be considered a capital offence. The Captain should by tied by his shoelaces to the nearest available Cooper bomb, and then accidentally released over friendly territory as not to give him any satisfaction that at least he’ll take some Huns down with him.

Epower, looks like Oliver is doing a fine job of helping the Kaiser get rid of the outdated equipment. Make room for all those shiny Dreideckers.
Why do they paint the Pfalz silver? Because they’re nearly invisible against the grey skies. They’re just missing the grey skies. Oh well.
Tough luck not being caught in the frame with MvR’s kite in it. Would have been a great memento for ages to come. And right you are, no longer will the duels be personal. Huge, faceless furballs will be the norm from now on.
Lovely shot of mayhem down there at the rail yard.

Lou, thank you for the kind words. Supreme Darner of Socks will definitely be the caption on his Sanke card.
So Freddy is getting his wings back. It is always a peculiar feeling after being grounded for a while. Hopefully he hasn’t lost his touch.

Albert, a very interesting day for Jacob. Testing the new machine. He will be the envy of the entire Jasta once the rest of them find out. Any idea when the latest Wunderwaffe is about to hit the turf? Rudi would like to take the latest Fokker creation for a spin himself. You lucky dog.

MFair, thanks. Rudi was actually on par with the Baron before his untimely death. Who knows which man would come out on top had he stayed with us for a bit longer?
So ... Mia, eh? You lucky dog. Rudi would like to take her for a spin himself, now that he knows how.

Raine, that is an unbelievable picture! And George walked away from that? I still can’t believe it. It just goes to show you, the SE has too many wings.
Glad Mac is still on the green side of the ground.

26 April, 1918 06:45
Le Mesnil, Flanders Sector
Jasta 19, JG II
Oberleutnant Rudolf Emil Fuchs EK1, HHO, PLM
83 confirmed kills

Both of the SPADs from yesterday have been confirmed.
It was another mundane job the HQ had sent them to take care of. Patrolling friendly front line sector between Roye and Champien was the order of the day. Rudi thought it would be another uneventful flight, but he was wrong and not for the first time.
They were going head to head with SPADs they’ve spotted near Roye. The odds were even - nine of them and nine Fokkers. The Franzosen had the height advantage, but this never stopped Rudi from ignoring little details like this. He waited for them to come down. They were a skilled bunch and one sat on Rudi’s tail firing his guns. Fuchs spun away from his attacker and looked for an opening to return the favour. Little did he know the SPAD had a wingman watching and waiting. As soon as Fuchs found his way onto his target’s tail the other one swooped down to spoil the fun. The two worked in tandem to give Rudi a fit. As soon as he had one in sights the other would begin to fire and Fuchs had to start anew. Finally one of the Fokkers came to the rescue and began harassing on of the French machines. This allowed Rudi to concentrate on the other Frenchman. He was following and taking potshots. He watched the pilot panic and pay more attention to what was happening behind instead of ahead. It all happened in an instant. Another SPAD diving on a Dreidecker happened to fly very close to the one Rudi was chasing. He knew that he would be able to fire on both of them when they crossed his crosshairs. Little did he realize the two SPADs were not flying close to each other, but exactly towards the same spot in the air. There was a sickening sound of wood smashing into wood, metal into metal. Rudi had only one thought: could he claim both machines?
He had little time to debate this as another SPAD was already attacking, but this time there were two Fokkers after him and it was a vain attempt. Fuchs observed the skirmish and when the two Dreideckers made enough room, he opened fire of his own. The SPAD continued to evade and was making fools of all three Fokkers. Fuchs has had enough of this game. He stayed high and after witnessing the two Dreideckers bumble another assault attempt he dropped behind the enemy biplane and let his Spandaus finish the fight. The SPAD spiralled towards the ground, followed closely by one of the Fokkers. Rudi knew he’d gotten the Franzose. There was no need to “make sure”. There were still some individual fights going some distance away. He continued to monitor them from afar and after making sure it was all over, he gave the signal to form up. Fuchs was content with the outcome and decided to return home.

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