After a quiet start, my renewed attempt at an RFC 2-seater campaign is going well - this time with 2 Squadron in January 1916. My second show is to lead two other bomb-armed B.E.2c's from 'B' flight to bomb a Hun airfield, with 'A ' Flight putting up the squadron's single Bristol Scout to sweep ahead of us.
But we're jumped by no less than three Fokkers while still climbing for height - well on our own side of the lines, where no self-respecting Hun scout should be! No fair!
Formation is quickly lost as we start jinking as if our lives depended on it - which indeed they do.
I throw my own B.E about the sky as best I'm able, while my observer gets off some shots whenever he can. By this time, I've already collected several hits.
I disdain dropping my bombs. The Tommies down there wouldn't like it, and I'm not easily giving up on the job I've been given. One of my BEs goes down trailing smoke, but the other manages to rejoin me for a time. The main effect of this seems to be that the Fokkers concentrate, too.
The other BE disappears and I'm left with my very own Fokker, a green one so possibly someone who fancies himself an ace. After much further turning and shooting, he flies off and leaves me alone. It looks like my observer must have got some hits on him!
I'm now on my own and turn for the Lines, intent on bombing that Hun airfield. But my motor is barely producing enough revs to maintain my current altitude, which is down to about three hundred feet! There's nothing for it but to go home. By the look of the holes in my windscreen and instrument panel, I'm lucky it wasn't much worse.
It's a struggle, but I make it back to Hesdingeul.
Sadly, the other two crews were lost with their machines, but reports indicate that one of them got two of the Fokkers. Serves 'em right!