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#4584640 - 11/07/21 01:22 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) ***** [Re: Raine]  
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RAF_Louvert Offline
BOC President; Pilot Extraordinaire; Humble Man
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L'Etoile du Nord
.

To the next DID Campaign, I may not join in at the start as I would like to spend some time working on aerodromes and such, but I would be interested in jumping in later on.

To the ongoing DID Campaign, I've no clue where you lot are finding all these hostile planes to go round with, Major Abbott and his crew haven't seen a thing. Can't even find ground targets to harass unless its miles and miles into unfriendly territory. The Hun are clearly on the run!

.

#4584643 - 11/07/21 02:28 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Raine Offline
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Lou, would you be up to support as the Gong Fairy after Christmas?

#4584645 - 11/07/21 02:50 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Hasse Offline
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Hi folks, I haven't been around much because of real life stuff (the bloody pandemic really threw a wrench into my plans), but I've occasionally read some of the excellent combat reports here. I have fond memories of the time when I was able to regularly contribute to DID.

Raine, I'm sorry to hear about your case. ALS can be a cruel disease, but there's always hope, and medical science is now making faster progress than ever before in its long history, so don't give up hope. My mother is currently struggling with lung cancer, so I think I understand a bit how you must be feeling.

I'd be interested in joining a new DID campaign next year. I can't promise I'll be able to fly every day though.

Also, maybe the DID thread could be restarted at Combat Ace, for reasons...


"Upon my word I've had as much excitement on a car as in the air, especially since the R.F.C. have had women drivers."

James McCudden, Five Years in the Royal Flying Corps
#4584649 - 11/07/21 03:47 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Albert Tross Offline
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UK
Thank you all for the congratulations. Malta was lovely. Only back this morning so I haven't caught up with everyone's tales in full yet and will do so later. For now I've some catching up to do.........


"A great deal of an aeroplane could be holed without affecting its ability to fly. Wings and fuselage could be—and often were—pierced in 50 places, missing the occupants by inches (blissfully unaware of how close it had come until they returned to base). Then the sailmaker would carefully cover each hole with a square inch of Irish linen frayed at the edges and with a brushful of dope make our aircraft 'serviceable' again within an hour."
#4584652 - 11/07/21 04:24 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Albert Tross Offline
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Lt Werner Rendel, EK2
Jasta 78b
Buhl Lorraine airfield

29 confirmed kills

30th October 1918

The Jasta celebrated Werner's promotion as well as they could the previous evening, however the supplies had not arrived again. With the news at the front and behind the lines worsening day by day, the talk around the airfield was would the Jasta ever get any more?

With the fuel and ammunition left, only one sortie could be organised for today.

A morning patrol down to the front near Luneville. The weather was decent enough but with large clouds around to spoil the views.

An eight man flight climbed up to 14000 feet and headed south west towards Luneville.

Two thirds of the way there they ran into a similar number of SPADs coming the other way. The SPADs had height advantage and dived down into the attack.

Werner skillfully avoided the diving Frenchmen and got the better of one of them as he levelled out. Several accurate bursts saw Werner's spandaus shredding the SPAD's upper wing and more fire had him spinning uncontrollably down into the ground.

Werner now latched onto another nearby SPAD and put numerous flurries into the French machine. A final burst had the SPAD lurching over and over until it plummeted into the ground.

Werner saw a final SPAD desperately trying to flee below him but a full pelt dive caught Werner up with his foe. A long burst into the enemy aircraft had it nosing down and smashing into the ground.


31st October 1918

32 confirmed kills

All three of Werner's claims had been confirmed yesterday evening and Leutnant Schmid had also confirmed that Werner had been awarded the Eisernes Kreuz Erste Klasse for his performances. He made the presentation to Werner personally in front of the assembled personnel and a celebration took place in the evening. As much of a celebration as the dwindling stocks would allow anyway.

The supplies had still not arrived this morning. Werner finished his meager breakfast and was making his way across the airfield when the airfield alarm sounded. Flak opened up at the far end of the airfield and Werner could already make out the enemy aircraft high above in the cloudless blue skies.

He was first in the air and was climbing for all he was worth towards the bombers he could see high above.

As he got nearer, two of the Breguets dived down to attack him. He avoided the first one but several bullets from the second one whacked into Werner's wings.

The second Breguet overshot however and Werner saw the chance to put a long burst into him.

Taking care to avoid the rear gunner he followed the Breguet around as his kameraden now dealt with the first Frenchman.

Several more accurate bursts saw the Breguet fall to pieces in front of Werner, with wings seemingly falling away and leaving the rump fuselage spinning wildly down into the ground.

The first Breguet had also been disposed of and as the remainder had stayed high and were now fleeing, Werner and co decided to land.

Leutnant Schmid was able to confirm Werner's Breguet, taking him to 33 confirmed kills.






EOM stats

Leutnant Werner Rendel, EK1
Missions - 40
Hours - 45.85
Claims - 43
Kills - 33

Attached Files 301.jpg302.jpg303.jpg304.jpg311.jpg312.jpg

"A great deal of an aeroplane could be holed without affecting its ability to fly. Wings and fuselage could be—and often were—pierced in 50 places, missing the occupants by inches (blissfully unaware of how close it had come until they returned to base). Then the sailmaker would carefully cover each hole with a square inch of Irish linen frayed at the edges and with a brushful of dope make our aircraft 'serviceable' again within an hour."
#4584662 - 11/07/21 09:46 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Albert Tross Offline
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Many thanks for Werner's medals, especially the War Merit Cross....tis a pretty thing.




Lt Werner Rendel, EK1
Jasta 78b
Buhl Lorraine airfield

33 confirmed kills

1st November 1918

The enjoyable but rather muted celebrations of Werner's Eisernes Kreuz had lasted until the alcohol ran out. There was still no news on more supplies and the Jasta had enough for five aircraft to fly roughly an hour today, no more.

Leutnant Schmid chose Werner as one of the pilots. Schmid's orders were to fly around the airfield, fly a rectangular course roughly 10km across and at about 14000ft.

The weather was still good, chilly when the sun wasn't on you but otherwise perfectly fine for November.

The kette took off and climbed up. They'd reached about 13000ft when an enemy flight appeared, several thousand feet above them. It was a flight of five SPADs and once they'd seen Werner's kette, seemed to take an age to commit to the attack.

They eventually did, in dribs and drabs, and the kette made them pay.

Werner pounced onto one of the Frenchmen as he went past him. He blasted the SPAD, and stayed on him as the enemy tried all-sorts of maneuvers to shake him off. Eventually he simply dived. Werner stayed on him and waited for the enemy to level out.

Once he did, Werner put a lengthy burst into him which struck the pilot and the SPAD nosed down and went straight into the ground.

As he looked around Werner saw another enemy off to his right and went after him. The Frenchman realised his predicament and tried to turn across Werner's path. Werner picked his moment and fired into the SPAD as it went past. He swung around onto the faltering SPAD's tail. The Frenchman tried various maneuvers but Werner anticipated them all, meeting them with a flurry of bullets. Finally, a long burst tore the top left wing away and left the SPAD spiralling down into the ground.

Werner saw no further enemy aircraft and set up to land. Four of the SPADs had been downed, but it had come at a cost, Leutnant Alexander Foerster had been downed and was dead. Foerster, from Pressig, had been with the Jasta for two months and had one confirmed kill.

Later on both of Werner's claims were confirmed, taking him to 35 kills.

There was still no news on supplies and as it stood, the Jasta didn't have enough fuel for sorties tomorrow. Schmid spent all evening on the phone.

Attached Files 1111.jpg1112.jpg1113.jpg

"A great deal of an aeroplane could be holed without affecting its ability to fly. Wings and fuselage could be—and often were—pierced in 50 places, missing the occupants by inches (blissfully unaware of how close it had come until they returned to base). Then the sailmaker would carefully cover each hole with a square inch of Irish linen frayed at the edges and with a brushful of dope make our aircraft 'serviceable' again within an hour."
#4584664 - 11/07/21 09:48 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Fullofit Offline
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Lou, are you sure Freddy isn’t flying west instead of east, looking for hostiles? I wouldn’t put a boneheaded move like that past him. You actually have to go looking for the enemy in the most unlikely places as Klaus will demonstrate today by doing a boneheaded move of his own.

Albert, welcome back. I hope that honeymoon didn’t suck out too much energy out of you.
So, it’s back to the usual business for Werner. 3 SPADs on the 30th, then a tangle with the Bréguets on the following day and the luck is with our German ace - all claims confirmed. Speaking of which, that is a ridiculous confirmed kill ratio! Congrats.

7 November, 1918 07:00
Montingen, Verdun Sector
Jasta 18
Rittmeister Klaus Gustav Raben LO RAO AO PLM HHO EK1 EK2
Fokker D.VII
185 confirmed kills

The episode in which Klaus bites off more than he can chew.

One Bréguet and one SPAD have been confirmed.
The HQ was not particularly inspired today and sent Jasta 18 on a patrol of friendly front lines between Thiaucourt and Pont-à-Mousson.
The Jasta was jumped suddenly by an escadrille of SPADs. Klaus soon picked up an enemy on his tail, but was able to avoid the attack. The SPADs kept their altitude up and prevented Klaus from attacking. Finally one of Raben’s wingmen was able to clear the tormentor off his tail and in turn Klaus was able to latch on to another SPAD that was following a Fokker. He fired at the enemy at a high angle of attack, but was able to register some hits and forced the Frenchman to dive away from the fight. He then looked around for more targets and saw individual fights all around. One of them was occurring above him with the SPAD spinning out of control and being pursued by another Fokker. He left them alone and went after another pair. This one was higher than him, but Klaus was able to pull up and fire into the SPAD as it passed above. To his amazement the enemy went into a spin and never recovered. Klaus watched him smash into the ground below. He then spotted another SPAD trying to get back over the lines, flying above and passing him. Raben fired a few rounds at the retreating machine and hit him for the SPAD turned to avoid more hits. This gave Klaus a chance to catch up and further damage the enemy plane. He was so intent on bringing his target down that he hasn’t noticed another Fokker approaching from ahead. The SPAD driver flew his crate intentionally in such a way as to cause a collision between the two German planes. Only quick reflexes saved Klaus and his wingman from an embarrassing end. Raben was now livid and made it his mission to get this sly fox he was chasing. That occurred in the next few seconds when Raben shot off part of the SPAD’s wing. He watched the enemy go down to make sure it wasn’t a trick and that he wasn’t faking it. The cloud of debris and dust on the ground told him everything he wanted to know.

YouTube Link



All the enemy planes ware now in retreat and Raben decided to follow them across the lines and to their base. He had plenty of fuel remaining, enough ammunition stores left and an insatiable thirst for more victories. He would have more of the enemy planes. He had with him one more wingman following him, who was just as hungry as Raben.
They’ve arrived over Toul aerodrome which was buzzing with activity.
“- Just a quick raid and then we’ll be back home for lunch.” Klaus thought to himself as he dove down on the unsuspecting enemy. He was now in sight and coming up fast, but it wasn’t a SPAD. It was a Bréguet and the rear gunner was already swinging his twin Lewis guns to bear. Klaus disengaged, not wishing to have his petrol lines cut this far into the enemy territory. He went by but not before having his plane hit. Never mind that! Where is that SPAD he promised himself? He saw another plane coming at him and he engaged. Surely it had to be the SPAD. No, it was an Airco. A whole bunch of them and they were firing at him. He needed to do something or he’ll be eating his lunch with the Yanks today. He needed to eliminate some of those targets, before he himself becomes a trophy on some whiskey soaked wall in the enemy’s Kasino. There! Finally a SPAD! He went after his prize and quickly realized this was not the tiered SPAD returning from the battle. This was an Amerikaner and he had friends. Klaus went after him regardless and brought him down with a few bursts. The Airco was next. Raben fired at it as it went above him, then went around and fired at it from above. The bomber went by and Klaus latched onto its tail. After a prolonged exchange of fire with the rear gunner, Klaus had the DH.4 on fire and going down. More SPADs came after him, but couldn’t get on his tail. They were firing deflection shots at him instead. Some were hitting home. Klaus couldn’t catch any of them and could only avoid. He was now desperately trying to head north and away from this hornet’s nest. As he made his way he spotted a Bréguet ahead. He thought to himself: “- What the hell …” and went after it. Klaus was right behind and below it and the Frenchman knew it. The enemy pulled up sharply to give his gunner an open field of fire, but that just presented Klaus with a larger target. He opened fire and didn’t stop until the Bréguet’s engine caught on fire. Klaus flew by looking at the compass. He was going the wrong way. The SPADs have arrived while Klaus made the course correction. More fire! He was getting hit left and right, but his Fokker continued to soldier on. North, that means the sun at his back. Keep going! There were at least five SPADs chasing after him and he knew he wouldn’t be able to outrun them. He decided to fight. His Fokker made a 180 turn and he faced his attackers. They all jumped out of his way, trying to get behind him. One of them overshot and Klaus was able to get a few rounds into him. He’ll think twice before coming after a Fokker again. North! Go north! There were two more on his tail. He fired at one of them as he faced them and attacked head on. He fired his last shots. He was out. More fire hit his plane. Still those two were pursuing. After a few more turns he was left with one last Indianer. He got on his tail and tracked him for a while. He was hoping to scare the enemy off, but this Yank was relentless and continued to come after Klaus. More rounds hit his wing. The port side was in tatters and the controls getting slack. He couldn’t keep this up. Was this the end? He looked behind at his executioner who should be coming around for his coup de grâce. The American wasn’t there. He flew away. Was he out of ammo as well, or had he just spared his life? Klaus didn’t know what to think. All he knew was that he just barely got away with the skin on his back. His return trip was filled with questions. Will he make it? Will he have enough petrol. Will he be able to land his damaged plane without breaking his neck? What’s for lunch?

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."
#4584666 - 11/07/21 10:22 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Albert Tross Offline
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Fullofit - Klaus has been showing those Breguets who's boss I see and the SPADs, well they're just meat and drink for him. Then that last sortie....wow what a show, they just kept turning up. Klaus was on his last legs but something kept him alive, and kept that crate together till he could get down. As for Werner, it was business as usual certainly. He enjoyed the Breguet. As for the confirmations....I dunno...maybe they'd missed me.

Carrick - Good to see Cecil back and getting kills. Let's hope for a confirmation as well. Some good pics in there too.


"A great deal of an aeroplane could be holed without affecting its ability to fly. Wings and fuselage could be—and often were—pierced in 50 places, missing the occupants by inches (blissfully unaware of how close it had come until they returned to base). Then the sailmaker would carefully cover each hole with a square inch of Irish linen frayed at the edges and with a brushful of dope make our aircraft 'serviceable' again within an hour."
#4584667 - 11/07/21 10:38 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
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carrick58 Offline
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Cecil P Fawnsworth, DFC MC. .MM. WOFF Wound Stripe.
Lt , Rfc, 54 Sqn
Nov 5 , 1918.

11 Victory Confirmed
7 Unconfirmed
1 pending

I withdrew my Fokker Claim as 3 other pilots claimed it during the fight.

The sqn put up 9 a/c for Deep penetration AF attack. My bombs fell short, but was able to chase 2 e/a taking off. The Sqn's bombs went bang some good hits as they were at 3 000 ft. I caught my V strut and spanked the Runner. Dont know what happened to the other bloke. Top cover lost 1 a/c to ground fire.

Attached Files CFS3 2021-11-07 14-11-12-66.jpgCFS3 2021-11-07 14-01-37-38.jpgCFS3 2021-11-07 14-13-01-34.jpgCFS3 2021-11-07 14-14-04-97.jpgCFS3 2021-11-07 14-14-38-06.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 11/07/21 10:40 PM.
#4584674 - 11/08/21 06:01 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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epower Offline
Artless Aide-de-camp
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Raine - A lovely London episode and l'amour for young Drummond. Brings back good memories of Oliver's many trips there. Nice recovery after hitting that pesky 'Leave' key, and an even nicer crossover with Freddy. 34! Fergie is still moving on up.
As for my sniping machine gun nests and Hun trenches with a 20-month character, I think it's not so much guts as a special kind of reckless, or perhaps a special kind of stupid.

Lou - Looks like we're both gonna have some whirlwind catchup here at the end. Hope all well in RL. A fine London sojourn and a lengthy brandishing of the Royal Sceptre with Nurse Lizzie. Outstanding! Freddy finding empty skies isn't the worst thing ever.

Albert - Mazeltov! My best wishes to you and She Who Must Be Obeyed.
You didn't miss a beat with Werner. The man is a machine. Unfortunate about Foerster. It's the grim end for the Luftstreitkräfte but Werner and his komaraden continue to do their duty in trying conditions. Very cool pic of the wing damaged SPAD falling away from Werner's machine. 35 now. Keep it going and congrats on the par of Gongs/ Gongn?

Carrick - Cecil practically dismembered that V-Strutter. Candy Cane Albatri, like asps, very dangerous. Cecil did the right thing there. Fingers crossed on the pending claim.

Fullofit - Wow! What a very nice shiny new Gong for Raben. Congrats! He'll need an extra large card for all those post nominal letters. Just make sure he survives the war.
Dark days on the other side of the mud. I empathize with the grind Klaus endures. See SPAD/Breguet. Kill SPAD/Breguet. But this latest mission, Mein Gott! I saw the little yellow warning text informing you of empty Spandaus and there three minutes of video remaining. Tight spot don't even come close. The Gods of War grant Klaus a favor, or maybe the Yank was also out of ammo. Who knows. Did Klaus make it back for lunch?

TWK - Great to see you and Albrecht back at it! Alas, he's back in hospital but he'll survive at least. Time to get cracking on some back stories for the next campaign!

MFair - You are missed, my friend but I'm very pleased to hear that you'll be back in harness for the next one.

Maeran - Wonderful to see the alte hares checking in. I look forward to reading your adventures in DID IV.

Last edited by epower; 11/08/21 06:01 AM.
#4584675 - 11/08/21 06:43 AM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: May 2012
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epower Offline
Artless Aide-de-camp
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The narrative threads I spun out so easily resist weaving now, and tangle in fingers gone suddenly clumsy. So many plot lines...Ack!
Nothing for it but to Carry On. There is not a moment to be lost!
______________________________________


À la Recherche du Temps Perdu - Part 110



19 October 1918
No. 24 Squadron RAF
Athies, France

Captain Douglas Carruthers arrived yesterday evening to take command of A Flight. Quite an old hand, he flew with No. 1 and No. 7 Squadrons as an Observer for most of 1916, then got his wings and returned to France with 29 Squadron. This Summer he flew with 85 and 84 Squadrons.

Fourth Army continues to push across the Selle river. The Huns are cracking. Saw A & C Flights up with bombs on the early morning show. Heavy mist and occasional rain but we must get after the Hun. Heading out of the Squadron Office to give the bag a thrashing when Wing telephoned with an urgent request to destroy an offending balloon NE of La Groise. Scruffy volunteered to lead the attack. I went along as did Bissonette. I might have preferred a full Flight but the three of us would have to suffice.

Taking no chances, we headed west and away from the lines for climb out. 12 miles west of the lines we popped out of a cloud and practically into an entire Jasta of Fokkers heading north.

[Linked Image]
Thank the gods they didn’t see us. We dashed into the nearest cloud. 

Taking the long way round to the south, we were nearly to the balloon when two Fokkers dropped out of the clouds. One caught me with a spray of bullets as I broke hard right. No damage. Both then went after Bissonette. Scruffy caught onto the trailer and shredded his starboard wing.

[Linked Image]
When Scruffy’s guns jammed, I finished the Hun.

[Linked Image]
The second Fokker took an unhealthy interest in Captain Longton.

He failed to check his tail, and fell in defense of the Kaiser’s balloon.

Bissonette was nowhere to be found. Formed with Scruffy and we searched in the deteriorating conditions for the gasbag. After a frantic 5 minutes we spied it at last. The Boche gunners had the range and gave us one hell of a shellacking.

[Linked Image]
I started the balloon smoking. Scruffy followed in and set it ablaze.

Enraged by the loss of their dirigible, the Archie crews redoubled their efforts. As we raced west the Huns threw up everything they had. Flaming onions flew uncomfortably close. I could see the flame and smell the cordite of exploding flak.

There was a tremendous *bang* and a bright flash directly in front of F5459. Something bounced off my jaw. The Wolseley groaned in a most disconcerting manner. The steam of escaping coolant fogged my goggles. The cockpit remained dry but I smelled leaking petrol.

We crossed into British lines. I throttled back but the temperature gauge climbed rapidly. Moislans aerodrome lay in the distance. I thought I could make it…

[Linked Image]
Moislans in sight when the Wolseley quit.

I touched down in the field 20 yards short of the aerodrome and bounced my way onto the airfield. Scruffy flew by twice, then seeing my wave he waggled his wings in response and headed off to Athies.

Too close. If that had been a full Schwarm instead of a mere two balloon defenders things might have gone differently.
_________________________

It wasn’t until I lowered the hood of my Sidcot and felt the sticky, painful tug on my jaw that I realized I was bleeding. The MO at Moislans dressed the cut but declined to stitch the wound. He held up a mirror. It was a clean laceration along one and a half inches along the jawline.

“Only have Benzocaine here and that won’t do for you, sir. You’ll need the Clearing Station for this job.”

I’d have something to show Smokey, though this was but a scratch compared the scar he carried. I wondered about the Old Bull. I hadn’t heard from him since September and he didn’t answer my last two letters. He was never a prolific correspondent but the silence of two month was cause for worry.

Moislans lay 8 miles north of Athies. The vast medical complex at Doingt was on the way back to the aerodrome. Corporal Chorley arrived in the Shelsley and we went directly there. The place swarmed with incoming casualties. I waited three hours before a surgical nurse stitched me up. She mentioned that 55 CCS left today for Bohain. No. 55 were here for the last two weeks and I never knew it! It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. When I inquired after Eliza, the nurse didn’t recognize her name. Eliza must still be up north.

Off to dinner now. I don’t want to be late to my own party. The rain is constant and will continue through tomorrow at the least. Disastrous for the offensive but No 24 Squadron need to blow off some steam. The past six weeks have been an exhausting slog for officers, NCOs and most especially for the men. I purchased and four extra cases of decent Rum. One for the NCOs and three for the men. A proper Rum didn’t come cheaply these days but they’d earned it and more.
___________________________

Lt. Young, our mess president, rose to the occasion and arranged a dinner that rivalled the finest efforts of his legendary predecessor. What an evening. What a binge! Colonel Cairnes to his everlasting credit brought with him a special guest. Uncle! I felt quite the heel for not making the invitation myself but it was all to the good. He was there at the beginning. Only right that we were together at the end.

“You’ve come far, my boy. See it though now. The bloody thing will be ended soon.”

After dinner and the speeches, the party took a turn for the wild. Uncle took up station on the piano and led the singsong. The entire RAF knew the words to the song of Fifty-Four, even if they changed the squadron number to suit.

Oh! We came out from Birmingham
To see the great big war –
There was Oxo right chock full of fight,
And Nobby out for gore.
Archie shot at us ‘Gr-r-umph! Umph!’
And blacked the sky so blue,
When right up flew a Halberstadt
And said, ‘And vitch vos you?’


Chorus:

Oh we’ve come up from Twenty-Four.
We’re the Sopwith Pups, you know.
And wherever you dirty swine may be
The Sopwith Pups will go.
And if you want a proper scrap,
Don’t chase 2Cs anymore.
For we’ll come up and do the job,
Because we’re TWENTY-FOUR.

A two-seater looked at Oxo
And “Vat vos you?” he said;
And Oxo blushed quire red with rage,
and shot the blighters dead.
The we found some Hun balloonists
Behind old Vendhuille town;
The seemed keen to pull it in,
And so we helped it down.

Chorus – Oh we’ve come, etc.
Then the Hun, he looked down on Peronne,
From which he’d run away,
And Struggy, seeing seven there,
Cried “Splendid! Chaps! Hooray!
Although there’s only four of us,
You’ve got to fight you see.”
And so they went right into them,
By gad! they brought down three!

Oh we’ve come up from Twenty-Four.
We’re the Sopwith Pups, you know.
And wherever you dirty swine may be
The Sopwith Pups will go.
And if you want a proper scrap,
Don’t chase 2Cs anymore.
For we’ll come up and do the job,
Because we’re TWENTY-FOUR!


[Linked Image]
After that the binge was on!

Ever the good sport, Colonel Cairnes suffered himself to be suspended upside down and walked his boot-blacked footprints across the ceiling.

2.00 I sit here in the squadron office wide awake. The dull roar from the Men’s mess subsided an hour ago but the debauchery continues in the Officer’s Mess. Uncle’s words ring in my head. The Huns are broken and in full retreat. They can’t last much longer. I’ve never thought about the end but now it’s in sight. I might live through this…



20 October 1918
No. 24 Squadron RAF
Athies, France

Woke early to the sound of steady rain. Gave the bag a sound thrashing and felt much the better for it. If the bleary-eyed expressions greeting me in A Flight Hangar were any indication, the night was one of historic revelry.

Today a letter from Professor Murray.

[Linked Image]

The prospect of Oxford grows more intriguing. Who knows when I might have the chance to sit the examinations?

Colonel Cairnes dropped by late afternoon.

“A fine show last night, Winningstad. Great Craic as we would say in Ireland.
I have orders for you, which I was instructed to deliver in person. Tomorrow you will meet with Colonel Harrison at the Chateau Bertangles. Noon sharp.”

“What’s this about, sir?”

“No idea. All rather hush hush,” he replied, putting his finger to the side of his nose.

One of yesterday’s Fokkers confirmed. Two Hundred two.



21 October 1918
No. 24 Squadron RAF
Athies, France

The Chateau Bertangles was practically deserted, Fourth Army HQ having relocated east in late September. Gen Rawlinson now lived on a camouflaged train currently parked at Montigny Farm near Roisel.

The Colonel occupied General Rawlinson’s old office. A young Lieutenant took my cap and coat.

“The Gentleman will see you now, sir,” he chirped as he led me toward the enormous oaken door and held in open.

Gentleman? An odd manner of address for a Colonel.

“Major Winningstad, sir,” said the Lieutenant, announcing my entry before making a hasty retreat and closing the door behind him.

The ‘Gentleman’ wore no military uniform but rather the black trousers and jacket of a civil servant. He stood with his back to me hunched over a large table, studying what appeared to be a series of maps. He continued poring over the maps for another 15 seconds then, leaning heavily on a cane in his left hand, he turned to greet me, drawing himself up to his full height. I couldn’t hide my shock. Standing 4 inches above six feet, he cut quite an impressive figure. The coal black beard was as always, immaculately groomed. His hair was shorter now, and slicked back to fight the natural curl. Under the noble brow his eyes were the same, deepest black and penetrating. As he stared down his aquiline nose at me, I felt the familiar clench of fear rising from my abdomen.

Gods below! What evil brings him here?!

“Tennyson,” I said. The word escaped my lips in a low hiss.

“Ah, Major Winningstad. We meet again. I see from the look on your face that you still intend me harm. Be that as it may, I have need of your service in a matter of the gravest import.”

“What matter would that be? Am I to play the tethered goat again in one of your Tiger hunts?”

“No, no, nothing like that. In three night’s time, I require you to fly into the Netherlands, retrieve a package, then transport it to England.”

I stood there incredulous. The nerve of the man. What game was he playing now?

“Is that all? You wish me to navigate 200 miles of enemy territory in the dark, then land in what I assume will be some farmers field, after which I will collect some mysterious cargo and then fight my way back to British lines?”

“Yes, exactly that. Be a good fellow and say you’ll do it.”

A foreboding seized me… then in an instant I was there.

The undercarriage collapsed as I struck an unseen furrow sending the machine over her starboard wing in a cartwheel. A crushing blow struck my left leg as the cockpit pinched and folded around me. The engine drove aft into the fuel tank. Pain. Excruciating pain. My leg was broken and pinned in the wreckage. Petrol spilled everywhere. A yellow light danced about the nose of the wreck. Fire! In a panic I tried to escape the shattered cockpit as the flames danced voraciously around me… I couldn’t free my leg. The first flame took hold on my right arm. The Sidcot suit, soaked with petrol, lit obligingly and the fire spread. The heat turned quickly to an incandescent agony. Burning… burning!

I closed my eyes to banish the vision. When I opened them again Tennyson was there waiting patiently. His eyebrows flicked briefly, almost in acknowledgement, as though he were witness to the same drama.

“Madness! This is suicide! I have at most four hours experience of night flying and that nearly two years ago. Why call on me? There must be 50 pilots of the Independent Force more qualified.”

“No doubt,” he replied drolly. “Alas, circumstances demand that it be you.”

“Go to hell. I’m not leaving my Squadron in the middle of an offensive to run some crack brained midnight errand.

“You are within your right to refuse me but if you do, Clarissa will die.”

“What?! What does Clarissa have to do with this?”

“Clarissa is the package.”

“Why the hell didn’t you say so at the outset?! Yes! Yes, of course I’ll fly it!

Gods be thanked! Clarissa is alive!


“Excellent,” Tennyson replied ominously.

“What I said about my night flying remains true. It’s a tremendous risk.”

“That can’t be helped. As I stated, it must be you. If your nocturnal shortcomings truly render you unable to perform,” he said as his lip curled infinitesimally into a brief smirk, “then I suppose we might engage one of your night flying colleagues from the IF to pilot the aeroplane. Of course, he would then give up his place for the return to England. Such a man would have a fascinating tale to tell after the war, recounting how he chauffeured the highest scoring pilot in the RAF, a VC no less, on a secret mission to Holland only to be abandoned and interned as a thank you. Yes, that would make for quite a sensational story. Could get a bit sticky for you…”

Bloody Hell! He has me and he knows it.

“You knew I’d agree as soon as you mentioned Clarissa. Why all this skullduggery and misdirection?”

Tennyson looked away toward the grand bank of large windows overlooking the Chateau grounds, deciding how much, or how little, to tell me.

“I needed to determine the strength of your attachment to Clarissa. You recall when we last met that Clarissa was part of an effort to ascertain the state of Germany and the threat of a Bolshevik revolution there should the war continue into 1919. In that effort she and her colleagues succeeded. After aiding their escape, she remained behind in Germany on another mission.”

“Mission? What mission?”

“You do understand that a man in my profession does not reveal information unnecessarily, so pray refrain from plaguing me with questions.”

“Clarissa has for the last two months been hunted by those same intelligence services which followed you in London. Given such scrutiny, her extraction from Germany remained impractical until the Germans shut down the “Wire of Death’ two weeks ago.”

“Wire of Death?” I inquired.

“The electrified border fence between Belgian and Holland. The recent German retreat in combination with large numbers of refugees clogged Belgian road networks. To alleviate this impediment to the movement of reserves, the Germans opened the border. With such a large movement of civilians, it was easy for Clarissa to make her way into Holland.”

“I still don’t understand why you need me.”

“Trust, my dear Winningstad. Loyalty and the national interest are rather fluid concepts these days. For some time, I have suspected a penetration at the highest levels of Intelligence and the Government but until recently had no definitive evidence. England has enemies far more dangerous than the Central Powers. Enemies both foreign and domestic, some of whom have become increasingly agitated as the war slouches toward its conclusion. Their recent assassination attempt and my subsequent use of this cane speaks to their level of desperation.”

He’s wounded! Not immune to the pitiless bronze after all.

Tennyson’s voice trailed off and he limped heavily toward the window overlooking the Chateau grounds. If an enemy could get to a man as elusive and well protected as Tennyson…

He stared out the window again, resuming his internal debate as to what he might disclose, then sighing as if in resignation he went on.

“The details of Clarissa activities are not your concern. Suffice it to say that the intelligence she carries will reveal the enemies in our organization, among other things. Holland is fairly infested with intelligence operatives. They practically trip over one another in Rotterdam. For this reason, Clarissa insisted on certain extraction protocols, those we call Geneva Rules.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that Clarissa will only break cover and return in the company of someone she trusts absolutely. The list of those who meet that standard and can pilot an aeroplane is rather short. One name only, in point of fact. Yours. You still carry the Sovereign she gave you, yes?”

I nodded in response.

“Very good. You will need that at the ready on landing. One of Clarissa’s assets will approach your aeroplane and determine your bona fides. Come have a look at these maps.”

[Linked Image]

The safest route would take me up the coast and across the Dutch border. I could then fly east toward Willemstad. North across the Holland Deep the road north would guide me. Clarissa would meet me south of the village of Klaaswaal. The local map was an old one. The houses were gone. A small grove of trees stood near the crossroads there. I would need to approach the landing from the east, taking care not to run long and crash into the roadside dike. The great unknown was the nature of the landing field itself. Reconnaissance photos were inconclusive but it appeared to be stubble. Tennyson’s reach was long indeed if he could arrange recon photos of a neutral country.

“Do you have a preferred aircraft?” asked Tennyson.

“A Bristol Fighter.”

“One will be made available the night of the mission.”

“That won’t do. I will select my own machine from the depot and bring it to Athies tomorrow. I’m not flying an unfamiliar aeroplane 180 miles into Hunland until my Ack Ems give it a thorough tuning.”

“Impossible. The secrecy of this enterprise must be preserved,” he answered flatly.

“Secrecy won’t matter if the engine conks and I crash into the sea or burn on the landing. You said it yourself, I’m the only one she will trust. Geneva Rules. Clarissa wasn’t negotiating, Tennyson, and neither am I. There’s one more thing. If I bring this off…when I bring this off, you will incur a rather serious obligation.”

His bushy eyebrows raised high. I couldn’t tell if he was angry, genuinely shocked, or simply reassessing his opinion of me. Tennyson was not a man who brooked refusal lightly, but he was as far as I could determine, intensely practical.

I had him over the proverbial barrel as well, and he knew it. Whether he might seek retribution in future didn’t matter. Foreboding or no, I was enjoying his discomfiture. His brows descended and with eyes of the deepest black he stared at me in silence, just as he had done when we first met at the Royal Automobile Club.

Once again that ebon glare froze me to my very core. Phobos and Deimos rampaged in my mind, spreading their panic and terror. I held his gaze with supreme difficulty. If he saw through my hardened features to the fear beneath, he made no sign. He gave every impression of weighing my soul in judgement. After an unforgiving moment Tennyson nodded.

“Accepted,” he said at last. He hobbled over to a large desk and seated himself in the massive leather chair behind it.

“Your third award of the DSO presents an opportunity. There is to be an Investiture at Buckingham Palace on the 24th. Orders will be issued to the Depot releasing a Bristol to you under the pretense of flying to the ceremony. So will be the fiction. The reality will see you depart on the 23rd for RAF HQ at Saint-André-au-Bois. In the early hours of the 25th you will fly to Holland and bring Clarissa to London Colney where I will be waiting at the west hangars.”

“London is far out of range. I’ll need to refuel before crossing the Channel.”

“Obviously. Do so at an Advanced Landing Ground. There will be fewer witnesses to deal with.”

Deal with? Merciful Gods! He sounds as if he might eliminate them. Might he eliminate me?

“As to your lack of night flying experience,” he continued, “I suggest you use the intervening time to amend that gap in your education. The Met Office suggests the coastal weather will clear sufficiently on the 25th. Irrespective of the weather, you must collect her at dawn on that day or all is lost.

“Until that time you will not fly combat operations. I require you alive. Good luck, Major.”

#4584703 - 11/08/21 03:28 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Oct 2020
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trustworthykebab Offline
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trustworthykebab  Offline
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epower, thanks for some reading to do before this evening!

Feeling empty without a DiD ready pilot...Will you guys move at getting the war done??

Last edited by trustworthykebab; 11/08/21 06:20 PM.
#4584706 - 11/08/21 03:57 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Albert Tross Offline
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Epower - Oliver's tale takes a turn for the surreal. Firstly some tough action against that enemy balloon. That damaged but trusty mount got him home, just about, but with another scar to live with. Then a shady meeting with Tennyson, under the guise of a Colonel! Can Oliver trust him? Does he have a choice? Tennyson knew the mere mention of Clarissa's name would sway Oliver into action but what a task awaits him now. Rescuing Clarissa from a dutch field, even the coastal route will leave him vulnerable to ground fire. What a venture! Great tale. As for Werner, he's in good nick certainly and the claim gods seem to be with him for the moment.


"A great deal of an aeroplane could be holed without affecting its ability to fly. Wings and fuselage could be—and often were—pierced in 50 places, missing the occupants by inches (blissfully unaware of how close it had come until they returned to base). Then the sailmaker would carefully cover each hole with a square inch of Irish linen frayed at the edges and with a brushful of dope make our aircraft 'serviceable' again within an hour."
#4584719 - 11/08/21 05:29 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Aug 2010
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carrick58 Offline
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Cecil P Fawnsworth, DFC MC. .MM. WOFF Wound Stripe.
Lt , Rfc, 54 Sqn
Nov 8 , 1918.

12 Victory Confirmed
7 Unconfirmed


While on Patrol , I broke off and Machine gunned a line of Trucks.Nothing was seen in the air. I say, What to do when the War is over ? Got a Post off to my uncle Lord Newberry about picking up some cushy situation with the Government



Attached Files CFS3 2021-11-07 14-20-25-79.jpg
Last edited by carrick58; 11/08/21 06:31 PM.
#4584720 - 11/08/21 05:30 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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carrick58 Offline
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epower: Good Report

#4584722 - 11/08/21 05:38 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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BuckeyeBob Offline
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Ah, epower. More skullduggery! I love it!

I hope the weather holds up! wink


“With Major Lawrence, mercy is a passion. With me it is merely good manners. You may judge which motive is the more reliable.”
#4584733 - 11/08/21 08:04 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
Joined: Mar 2020
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Albert Tross Offline
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Albert Tross  Offline
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UK
Lt Werner Rendel, EK1
Jasta 78b
Buhl Lorraine airfield

35 confirmed kills

2nd November 1918

At 1.15am this morning, 'some' supplies turned up, including enough fuel for a few days flying.

Leutnant Schmid decided to send a large single kette over to Buhl Lorraine railyard to fly a defensive patrol of the area.

The weather had deteriorated and rain splattered Werner's goggles as he and the rest took off.

The kette met a formation of Breguets over the railyard who proceeded to dive down to attack the Fokkers.

Werner engaged one and in a twisting turning match the two aircraft were driven low. It was Werner who got the better of things though and eventually tore the wings off the French machine which spun into the ground.


3rd November 1918 (awaiting one confirmation)

The sortie today was a trip down to Luneville. Werner's outstanding claim had been confirmed which at least sent him out in good spirits, despite the news from the front.

The weather remained poor with dark grey skies and rain.

Leutnant Schmid had decided to send both kette out and that decision was shown to be a prudent one when a large flight of SPADs turned up.

Werner avoided the initial attacks and quickly got the better of one of them. Several accurate bursts left the enemy aircraft stricken and spiralling down into the ground.

Werner latched onto a second SPAD and despite the Frenchman's efforts to evade, Werner put a couple of lengthy bursts into him and a final flurry tore the wing away. The SPAD spun uncontrollably into the ground.

The situation was now in total control for the Jasta but Werner saw another SPAD trying to run but coming across his path. He swung down and throttled up, catching the level SPAD up and pummelled it with several accurate bursts. One of these took the pilot out and left the enemy aircraft nosing down into the ground.

All the SPADs had now been downed and the Jasta made for home.

Later on Leutnant Schmid confirmed all three of Werner's claims, taking him to 39 confirmed kills. He also commended Werner on his performance and had included this in his report to HQ.


4th November 1918

The meagre fuel rations were dwindling again and Leutnant Schmid sent only four DVII's out this morning so that an afternoon sortie could take place. The morning jaunt was a patrol above the airfield. Werner led the flight and took off into the bright blue skies as thankfully the weather had cleared up.

They'd reached about 9000ft when Werner spotted a flight of enemy two seaters diving down at them.

The Breguets were certainly aggressive and made several attacks on Werner who skillfully managed to avoid them. He finally got the better of one of the large enemy aircraft and put many rounds into him. He continued spraying the Breguet with lead and as the French aircraft rocked over, Werner saw a horrific sight as the pilot fell out of the machine. The gunner was left looking, panic-stricken as the Breguet now plunged earthward and smashed into the ground.

The rest of the Breguets now turned tail and ran, leaving Werner's foursome to make their way home.

The Breguet was confirmed later that evening, Werner was now on 40 confirmed kills.

The afternoon sortie consisted of six Fokkers down towards Luneville. However they didn't get anywhere near Luneville as a short while after they'd headed out south west they were attacked by a mixed group of SPADs and Breguets.

The weather had worsened again and the murk made it harder to spot the enemy as they swirled around. Werner however managed to get on the tail of a SPAD and continually fired into him. Clearly he must have hit the French machine's controls as it fell into a spiralling dive which only ended when it smashed into the ground.

Werner didn't have much time to celebrate as bullets smacked into his fuselage. He looked around to see a Breguet bearing down on him.

Werner used several skillful maneuvers to outwit the Frenchman and found himself on the rear of the Breguet. Werner blasted the French machine with a devastating burst. The gunner tried to get Werner away but another burst hit the gunner, and left the Breguet in flames and with a mangled wing. It went down in a steepening dive until it smashed into the ground.

Werner made his way home and landed safely. Altogether, seven enemy aircraft had been downed and although a Fokker had been downed, Leutnant Ungewitter was ok.

Both of Werner's claims were confirmed by Leutnant Schmid who had witnessed everything. These took him to 42 confirmed kills.


5th November 1918

The news that Austro-Hungary had signed an armistice which left Germany on its own now hadn't come as a major surprise to Werner but it still left a cold chill in his heart. For the first time he thought about what the coming weeks would bring. Where would he go? What would become of Germany? Would Germany even be allowed to exist? Somewhere in his thoughts was Inge, should he go and see her?

The dwindling fuel stocks meant only one sortie today which was another jaunt down to Luneville.

The small kette clashed with a flight of Breguets attacking the retreating Germans.

Werner made one of the Frenchmen pay for his efforts and continually blasted the enemy aircraft. He closed in to point blank range and continued hitting the Breguet until it burst into flames.

The enemy machine lurched over and went straight down into the ground.


6th November 1918 (awaiting one confirmation)

There was only enough fuel for three DVII's to have roughly a quarter of a tank full. They patrolled around the airfield and had roughly half an hour in the air.

It took less than 10 minutes before Werner sensed danger and suddenly a Breguet zoomed out of the sun. Werner was already dodging and came around onto the tail of his attacker. Angered by the attack and with a lot of pent up frustration in his hands he feathered the triggers and blasted the French machine, and blasted it some more and continued blasting it until the Breguet simply fell out of the sky in flames.

No other enemy aircraft turned up and the trio landed safely after their 30 minutes.

Later on Leutnant Schmid confirmed today's Breguet but yesterday's was denied as no-one had seen it. This brought Werner's total to 43 confirmed kills.

Leutnant Schmid had more news for Werner, a message from HQ had turned up. Werner was to be awarded the Goldenes Militär-Verdienst-Kreuz. The award would be made on the 9th November when the Jasta would be visited by General Johannes von Eben, commander of Army Detachment A.

Perhaps just as importantly, another fuel consignment arrived.

Attached Files 02111.jpg02112.jpg03111.jpg03112.jpg03113.jpg03114.jpg04111.jpg04112.jpg04113.jpg04114.jpg04115.jpg05111.jpg05112.jpg06111.jpg06112.jpg

"A great deal of an aeroplane could be holed without affecting its ability to fly. Wings and fuselage could be—and often were—pierced in 50 places, missing the occupants by inches (blissfully unaware of how close it had come until they returned to base). Then the sailmaker would carefully cover each hole with a square inch of Irish linen frayed at the edges and with a brushful of dope make our aircraft 'serviceable' again within an hour."
#4584735 - 11/08/21 09:03 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Raine Offline
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Wonderful to see everyone dropping in and expressing interest in doing all this again. A special "welcome back" to Maeran, Hasse, Seb Toombs, MFair and TWK. The Campaign Moderator's intelligence section has learned that MFair has a little plan up his sleeve for the and of this campaign, but I will let him break that news.

Carrick – I'm surprised to hear that Cecil is looking for a cushy government job. I was quite certain that he had plans to start his own nursing school after the war.

Albert – if ever there was a chance that Fergie Drummond would catch up with Werner Rendel, it's probably gone now. Fuel or no fuel, Werner is on a tear!

EPower – Another stellar episode. It's only fitting that Oliver, having surpassed the nearly unimaginable 200 mark, would want to close out his war with a hair raising adventure. Best of luck on your long and dangerous flight!

Lou – Hurry back. The Kaiser is putting on his coat…


Journal of Captain Robert Fergus Drummond, DSO, DFC
32 Squadron, Royal Air Force
Pronville, France

Part 23


[Linked Image]


The news of late has been unrelentingly positive. The enemy is retreating all along the front. Hale, Zink, and I were airborne shortly after seven-thirty on the morning of 4 November, bound for the Hun balloon lines south of Valenciennes. It was a filthy morning. The flight commander’s streamers hung heavy and limp from the struts of my SE tried to work its way through my Sidcot. At last, the Wolseley engine was up to temperature and we rumbled across the sodden field and into a grey sky. We climbed to the north until we caught the glimmer of the old marshland south of Douai. From there we turned just north of due east. Hale came up on my left wingtip and pointed to the northeast. There I saw a large cluster of single-seat machines heading west. They looked vaguely Hunnish, so I pointed upward and, noting the time on the dashboard watch, climbed into the gloomy layer of clouds above us.

I figured about eight minutes would do it and dropped back down below the cloud level. I was very pleased with myself on two accounts. First, I emerged from a long flight in dense cloud more or less level and pointed in the right direction. Second, I made out the outline of an enemy balloon two miles to the northeast. I went straight for the thing and emptied my Lewis while firing more than 100 rounds of Vickers before seeing it fall in flames. After that, I circled about a bit looking for Hale and Zink. Finding neither, I headed home. The gasbag remained unconfirmed. Hale and Zink had got completely lost and after circling about for a half-hour, they headed home.

At lunch we heard news of another major push by the British. Our lads were across the Sambre and advancing north to Maubeuge, denying yet another potential defensive line to the enemy. Our orders that afternoon took us on a distant offensive patrol toward Tournai. At least this was a squadron show. Hale led us across in charge of the low flight. Zink’s flight was stacked above him and mine above and behind them. We ran into a large group of Fokkers just north of the Bois de Flines near Rumes. We outnumbered the Huns, and I believe they did not see my flight until we were on them. I picked out a blue mottled Fokker at the north edge of the scrap. He was intent on getting onto the tail of an SE and failed to notice my approach until my opening burst landed all about his cockpit and engine. The Fokker rolled onto its back and dived vertically into the ground, trailing a long streak of dark smoke. A few seconds later I saw a second Fokker flying past me only a couple of hundred yards away. The fellow was obviously in a funk and heading home. I changed drums on the Lewis and turned in behind him. He never made it home.

Both Fokkers were witnessed by Bogart Rogers who, as it turned out, was the pilot of the SE being chased by the first Hun. This made them victories number thirty-three and thirty-four.

On 5 November 1918, our morning patrol was cancelled. We were enjoying a relaxed breakfast when the RO interrupted with orders for all those present to head for the lines east of Douai, where there were reports of enemy activity. I led a group of seven machines, climbing all the way. We arrived over the lines to find a formation of Fokkers harassing some DH4s. I fired a red flare and we got “tore in,” as the Scots say. For several minutes all one could do is take the occasional snapshot at fleeting targets while attempting to keep one’s speed up. At last, I found a grey EA hovering about at the fringe of the fight. He failed to see me until I was just a few yards from his tail. My opening burst toward the Hun machine apart and it fell over the lines north of Dinant. This one was confirmed by Lawson, my thirty-fifth.

Weather and the rapidly changing situation at the front kept B Flight grounded the rest of the day. Our next patrol was at eight o’clock the following morning, when we were to escort a half-dozen RE8s to attack ground targets northwest of Valenciennes. Our wards had completed their bombing and were reforming when a very large group of Fokkers approached from the north and came directly for us. We had our hands full until A Flight appeared on the scene and somewhat evened the odds. I expended almost 300 rounds from each gun during the scrap but could not concentrate on any one target until a blue Fokker appeared after my right and a little below. The Hun was chasing an obviously damaged SE. The enemy pilot was to intent on his target to notice my approach and was almost certainly killed by the first burst, for his machine fell out of control for 5000 feet.

I was very pleased to learn that Lawson was once again able to support my claim, so my bag now stood at thirty-six. On a far less happy note, A Flight suffered a mauling in the scrap, losing three new pilots plus Ian Sommers, who had been with us about a month. I rarely lose my temper, yet this news drove me into a purple rage. I cursed the Huns. They were beaten. They knew they were beaten. Why in God’s name are we still fighting this war? Major Russell was good enough to drop by my tent after I washed and changed. He invited me to walk into the village to the mess so that he could buy me a drink. A drink was the cure for everything in the RAF. As hard as I could think, there was no better prescription.

A letter from Edie arrived with the noon post. She apologised for the delay in writing. She had been posted to the “Baltic and Corn Exchange Hospital” in Boulogne. The letter spoke of her daily routine and the strictness of her matron. She said how much she enjoyed showing me the sights of London. And then it ended, “Yours ever, Edie.” It was not the passionate tone I had hoped for when I anxiously tore the envelope open. I sniffed the paper. No perfume. Perhaps just a hint of carbolic. I was at a loss for the correct tone I should adopt in a reply, so I decided to have another drink in the mess. There truly was no better prescription.

Attached Files Sambre.jpg
Last edited by Raine; 11/10/21 12:32 AM.
#4584737 - 11/08/21 09:35 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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epower Offline
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Albert - Again with the Breguet abuse. Not a fair fight, I tell ya. The pic of the wing shredded flamer against the rippling grey sky is fantastic. These fuel shortages must be the reason that some of our RAF colleagues report a scarcity of German aircraft. Oil is the new currency of power and Germany has none, although that 99 year treaty of Bucharest might work out. A bit harsh that.
Business as usual for Werner. 43 now and Herr General coming to decorate Werner. Excellent.

Carrick - tht tracer looks like the tail end of a Maveric. Have 54 been issued some sort of experimental weaponry? Good show Cecil on the confirmed kill. Nice having a peer in the family, especially a well-connected one but does Cecil really want a cushy govt job?

Raine - A fine bag for Fergie. The Claims Office seems to be functional again. 36 now. Bravo. A tough go losing three squad mates. These new ones don't last long. Very sad.
Doubly unfortunate that Edie's ardor appears to be cooling. Maybe she's not the literary type..
In Vino Veritas.

MFair - What manner of mysterious plan are you hatching? My curiosity knows no bounds.

Last edited by epower; 11/08/21 09:35 PM.
#4584738 - 11/08/21 10:00 PM Re: Deep Immersion DiD campaign -- Player Instructions (UPDATED 28 Nov 2018) [Re: Raine]  
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Joined: May 2012
Posts: 737
À la Recherche du Temps Perdu - Part 111



22 October 1918
No. 24 Squadron RAF
Athies, France

The Bristol I found at the Depot is a good one. Few of our AMs have much time with the Rolls Royce Falcon except for Cpl. Greeley, recently transferred from No. 20 Squadron. After giving the engine a thorough going over he pronounced it fit for combat.

Captain Longton made another brilliant reconnaissance and had to report in person to the army commander again. A feature of our work during the push has been tactical reconnaissance, which Scruffy has developed to an unprecedented degree, even on days when the weather has been impossible. Previously, scouts have been considered more an instrument of open warfare but now provide many valuable reports. Example being Hazel on August 8th, when he was the first to report our cavalry in Meharicourt, and again on October 3rd his reconnaissance of Montbrehain at a crucial moment.

Letters to Eliza, my parents and Smokey. One to Freddy too. I left them with my remaining kit, just in case.

All thought bends toward Clarissa now. The bag is useless even for mild distraction.

Out of sight for nearly a year but she was never truly out of my thoughts. I know I have no future with Clarissa. I love Eliza with all the passions of my heart but what I experienced with Clarissa forges a bond unlike any I’ve ever known, or might ever share with another. We be of one blood…



23 October 1918
RAF HQ
Saint-André-au-Bois, France

Up at 4.00 to expand my night flying curriculum. Foul, wet and misty. Terrifying in the dark. I landed at 5.30, windy but undamaged. I will need all my skill and the guiding hand of Athene if I am to survive what’s coming.

Fourth Army advancing again. XIII Corps attacked L’Eveque wood this morning. The entire squadron went up with bombs in support as I prepared to fly to “London.” Maddening. I’ve never felt so useless. If any of the men are killed in my absence…

I can’t dwell on it. The Flight Commanders know their jobs. I must trust in that.

To 'London.' The weather cleared just enough to tempt me north for a look at the coast before I made my way back south to RAF HQ. Too much coffee at breakfast this morning. I was in increasingly urgent need of a loo and landed at my old home at Estrée Blanche. As I pulled up to what turned out to be A Flight Hangar, I was shocked to see two familiar faces dashing out to secure the Bristol. Corporals Mitchell and Johnson! I’d no idea that No. 54 Sqn based here. I thought them at Merchin. No matter, being seen here would reinforce the fiction that I was heading to London.

Switching off, I leapt down from the cockpit to greet them.

“I trust you’re still signing your work,” I replied.
“Right you are, sir,” said Mitchell.

We caught up for a few minutes then I begged off in search of the latrine then Major Maxwell.

[Linked Image]
Major Maxwell gathered the officers of 54 Squadron for a group photograph.

Parker was waiting discretely off to one side as the officers dispersed.

“Wonderful to see you again, Parker,” I said shaking his hand before he could protest. “You look well.”

“And you, sir,” he replied, slightly addled by such a familiar gesture. “Did I hear correctly that you was ‘eaded to London again, sir?”

“This very day,” I said. How easily the lie danced from my lips.

“Must you, sir? Begging your pardon but London is most unsafe at the present moment, especially for a man such a yourself who ‘as the attention of them that bear the Dragon's Eye. Rather violent happenings. Most disconcerting. A number of my, err... associates tell of more folk disappearing and open acts of a violent nature. Men gunned down in the street, if you can believe it. Never been open warfare before. Most uncivilized and distinctly bad for commerce, if you take my meaning. This ‘ades fellow I spoke of. ‘E’s behind it.”

I thought of the beetle-eyed man Clarissa slapped. The one in the photograph Tennyson showed me.
From what I knew of the man he matched the profile. I’d seen him with Abigail the night she lured that General to Reginald’s flat. To what end? Blackmail, perhaps.

“Who is this Hades?”

“Nobody knows. A right mysterious cove that one. Do be careful, sir.”

I reached the Channel coast well west of the lines. Intermittent mist and rain but it was clearing. I retreated south and made for Saint-André-au-Bois.



24 October 1918
RAF HQ
Saint-André-au-Bois, France

Another early morning flight in the dark. The mist cleared slightly so I pushed my luck and flew north again. The mist lifted somewhat but navigation was mostly by compass. The illuminated instruments are a godsend.

More map study. I put myself to Professor Strugnell’s map test and eventually could draw both the approach and return from memory. I won’t be able to do much map reading in the dark even with the lighted cockpit.

Tonight’s the night…



25 October 1918
No. 24 Squadron RAF
Athies, France

4.30 Thermos of hot tea inside my Sidcot suit. Flask topped off with whiskey. I opened the throttle and rose into the night.

In the mist near the coast I drifted too far east. The Boche gunners gave me one hell of a fright. I fled due north and out to sea.

[Linked Image]

After circling the landing field twice, I wondered if I had the correct spot, then there it was. A fire pot burst into light near the trees.

Sweeping around one final time I kept the Brisfit just above stall speed as I touched down. The machine struck oddly and bounced … I passed a lifetime of terror waiting for the impending crunch and crash that would lead to my immolation…

[Linked Image]
The machine lurched then settled into a controllable runout.

I taxied up closer to the trees. A torch shone from the woods. The man approaching me held a Luger in his hand. Slung over his shoulder was a machine gun, the type used by German Storm troops.

“Place your hands on zha cockpit coaming,” he commanded, levelling the pistol at me.

“What is your name?” he demanded.

“Winningstad,” I replied.

“Your Christian names.”

“Oliver Alden.”

“Ja. Have you a coin for zha ferryman?”

I showed him Clarissa’s Sovereign. He extended his hand to take it and I drew back.

“Please, I must examine zha token.”

With great reluctance I gave it into his hand. He shone the torch on it, turning the coin over several times before he handed it back to me.

“One more question. Who vasht your partner zha night you won zhis Sovereign?”

“Clarissa’s godmother, Mrs. Walsingham,” I replied.

“Ja, zhis is correct,” he said, nodding. Holstering his pistol, he flashed his torch towards the woods then took hold of the starboard wingtip. I pushed the throttle forward to turn the machine around.

Where is Clarissa? This is taking too long! We’re totally exposed here!

I hopped out of the cockpit with the extra flying kit as a dark clad figure moved toward us. It was Clarissa. She wore men’s clothes and her hair pulled back into a tight bun. The sight of her was like an electric current surging through me. Running past her comrade she threw her arms around me.

“Cher Oliver,” she whispered then kissed me fiercely.

Everything stopped then. For a lifelong moment were far away, soaring through the air on powerful wings. Soon enough, the present reasserted itself.

“We have to go, Clarissa,” I said, then helped her into the Sidcot Suit. When she was properly buttoned up, she turned to the man.

“Jan,” she said, taking his hands and kissing both his cheeks.

“It is my honor,” he said then turned away and began walking back to the woods. Clarissa pulled her goggles into position and climbed into the observer’s cockpit. I’d not yet swung my leg over the coaming when the first bullet zipped by my ear. I heard the crack of rifle fire and the swarm of buzzing projectiles whizzing around me.

Gods Below!

“Vluchten! Vluchten!” shouted Jan, waving his arm and pointing down the field. He unlimbered the machine gun and returned fire in short bursts as he moved sideways to draw fire away from the Bristol. I dropped into the seat and without bothering to strap in pushed the throttle forward. The Falcon roared to life and the Brisfit raced across the field and into the air.

I banked right and looked back. At the same time, I heard Clarissa scream, “NO!”

Jan crumpled to the ground and lay still as grey figures emerged from the wood, rifles in hand.

For a moment I thought to go back and strafe the b@stards but immediately dismissed the idea. Clarissa was the mission, not revenge for poor Jan. He’d sold his life to help us get away. One stray bullet would render that sacrifice in vain and bring all to ruin. I turned south toward the Holland Diep.

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


I looked back at Clarissa, her face set in an impassive mask as she as she stood to watch the sunrise. She reached forward and gave my shoulder a squeeze before settling back into the shelter of her cockpit.

[Linked Image]
I stood out to sea and rose through the cloud columns

Bray Dunes lay asleep as we landed. I taxied up to 54’s old hangars as the Ack Ems took hold of the Brisfit. I climbed down and handed her my flask before walking to the hangar.

“I’m sorry about Jan,” I said, handing her my flask. Clarissa smiled weakly, took along swig then returned the flask. With her goggles still on and hood pulled tightly around her face, she dropped lower into the Observer’s cockpit. I could hear her shuffling the Lewis drums about. Just as well she affect some activity and remain unrecognized.

A brief chat with the Flight Sgt. was all that was necessary to refill my thermos with tea and get more fuel for the Bristol.

The channel coast looked foggy but navigable. I climbed back into the cockpit and offered Clarissa the thermos of tea which she accepted with a smile. The AM swung the prop and we were off once again.

A rainy, frigid but otherwise uneventful crossing to England.

[Linked Image]
Sightseeing along the Thames. Clarissa’s mood brightened and she smiled in wonder.

When I rolled to a halt at London Colney Tennyson was waiting in a black Rolls touring car at the leftmost of the western hangars. I helped Clarissa down. She pulled off her goggles and gave them to me while she removed the Sidcot suit.

“Clarissa…” Words stuck in my throat. I wanted to say so much to her but there was no time.

“Mon Aviateur Magnifique,” she said with eyes shining. “Thank you.”
She kissed me lightly on the mouth and without another word walked over and stepped into the waiting car.

Tennyson favored me with a nod as the Rolls departed.

All the nerve and energy that sustained me through the flight now drained suddenly away. Utterly spent, I staggered off toward the mess to refresh myself.

Returned to Athies at dusk. The Bristol performed magnificently. What a day. She was with me. She was in my arms, whispering in my ear. Then gone so quickly. Did it really happen? The whole space of the past hours seemed like a dream.



Last edited by epower; 11/09/21 02:19 PM.
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