Wolfbiter
12-17-2010, 14:07
(Hey all! Apologies for my long absence while attending to jury duty, holidays, family gatherings and so forth...but at long last here's another Letter Home from Wolfram! I hope you enjoy it.-Wolfbiter)
France, December, 1917
Dear Mother and Father,
It was a joy to see you during the Yuletide holiday. I was pleased I could make the most of the generous time allotted to me after my last mission and spend a few days with you and Katerina at our home.
I’ve returned to the front and taken command of my new squadron, Jasta 6. As with all the fliers of JG1, they are sound, stout-hearted fellows. But it is a strange thing…I have only been flying for a little over a year, and I have scarcely reached my 21st birthday, yet still, already the new pilots seem so young to me. I hear them laugh and joke about the hundreds of enemies they will down, and I wonder that it seems so long ago I felt the same. But forgive my occasional bouts of melancholy…it is my responsibility to whip these pilots into shape and make sure their boasts are not too far off the mark!
I have an amusing story to tell relating to that…a most droll encounter on the first day I arrived to assume command of my new Jagdstaffel. Klepperman offered to accompany me, as he was on his way back from leave to return to Jasta 10.
We had been at Marckebeke less than an hour, introducing ourselves to the new pilots (who were quite enthused to be talking to the famous Hauptman Von Klepperman, though I’m flattered to say one or two recognized me from my hasty scribblings about our missions throughout the past year that had been passed around Jasta 11), when suddenly a pair of SPADs broke through the clouds and raced past the aerodrome, so close to the ground that the wind of their passing blew a few hats clean off! Naturally, we were thrown into great consternation until we realized the SPADs were not firing, but merely scattering leaflets around the field. I picked one up, and to my astonishment and chagrin, read the following message, in passable German:
“To the bold fliers of Jagdstaffel 6, greetings! I hear rumors that you have a new commanding officer. My compliments to him, and I invite him to a contest of skills within the next fifteen minutes above your field. However, I understand if the demands of paperwork require him to postpone to a more convenient time. I await your response.—Sincerely, Your French Friend.”
Well as you can imagine, such impudence is intolerable, and such a challenge could not be overlooked with my new squadron watching! Klepperman agreed wholeheartedly and offered to accompany me and teach these Gallic rascals a sharp lesson.
The SPADs had continued to circle in a leisurely fashion, but came about sharply toward us the moment they saw my “Lotti” and Klepperman’s Pfalz D.III in the air. The leader, clearly the rascal who offered the challenge, boldly mirrored my every move as we raced toward each other, while Klepperman broke right in a successful effort to draw off his wingman.
The lead SPAD and I nearly touched wings as we shot passed each other, guns blazing…and in a split second, I recognized my foe! That blond hair, that cocky grin, that, that Frenchness! It was my Parisian nemesis, Pierre Benjamin Lord! He offered me a mocking salute as he raced past, confident that I would try to turn to pursue him and assured that I would fail to catch him thanks to his plane’s superior speed.
I decided I would not dance to his tune! Spying Klepperman engaged with Lord’s wingman off my right side, I banked in that direction, hoping to lead Lord back into the fray where Kleppi and I could take him. As it happens, Lord’s wingmen, seeking to avoid the torrent of bullets Kleppi was directing at him with deadly accuracy, banked hard away to escape Klepperman’s Pfalz…and by sheer chance bracketed himself squarely in my sights! I depressed the triggers of my Spandaus, shredding his left wing. Seeing himself rapidly losing stability, he powered down immediately and glided into a rough but safe landing in a hayfield five kilometers from our aerodrome. (He was lucky we were fighting relatively close to a safe landing point). One down!
With the precision of wheeling falcons, Kleppi and I swung around simultaneously to engage Lord, who now realized the cost of his cheeky taunts. However, I must give that rascally Frenchman one thing…I have never seen any pilot fly a SPAD with the skill he does! First he zigzagged in a wild pattern as Kleppi swung behind, peppering him with bullets, then somehow survived by going into a mad barrel roll as I pulled alongside his left and raked his fuselage with fire!
However, even a pilot as skilled as Lord cannot last two against one for long, and as his fuel began to run low, the Frenchman made a run for his lines. Klepperman, who was a better position than I, fired a parting shot, and we were pleased to see his smoking SPAD touch down in No Man’s Land! A near complete victory! I say “near” because once again, our ground troops report the slippery Lord and his associate escaped unharmed to their lines after torching their downed planes. But I have won the respect of my new squadron with this escapade, and we have taught the French to think twice next time they seek to taunt us!
Your son
Wolfram Von Thun-Hohenstein
Oberleutnant, Jasta 6, JG1
Marckebeke
(Game Notes: A fun 4-player dogfight at Dave Zee's Wings of War demo last week, and a decisive victory for Germany--but don't worry, the Allied team came back next game with a spectacular success of their own, which I hope to chronicle in the near future!)
France, December, 1917
Dear Mother and Father,
It was a joy to see you during the Yuletide holiday. I was pleased I could make the most of the generous time allotted to me after my last mission and spend a few days with you and Katerina at our home.
I’ve returned to the front and taken command of my new squadron, Jasta 6. As with all the fliers of JG1, they are sound, stout-hearted fellows. But it is a strange thing…I have only been flying for a little over a year, and I have scarcely reached my 21st birthday, yet still, already the new pilots seem so young to me. I hear them laugh and joke about the hundreds of enemies they will down, and I wonder that it seems so long ago I felt the same. But forgive my occasional bouts of melancholy…it is my responsibility to whip these pilots into shape and make sure their boasts are not too far off the mark!
I have an amusing story to tell relating to that…a most droll encounter on the first day I arrived to assume command of my new Jagdstaffel. Klepperman offered to accompany me, as he was on his way back from leave to return to Jasta 10.
We had been at Marckebeke less than an hour, introducing ourselves to the new pilots (who were quite enthused to be talking to the famous Hauptman Von Klepperman, though I’m flattered to say one or two recognized me from my hasty scribblings about our missions throughout the past year that had been passed around Jasta 11), when suddenly a pair of SPADs broke through the clouds and raced past the aerodrome, so close to the ground that the wind of their passing blew a few hats clean off! Naturally, we were thrown into great consternation until we realized the SPADs were not firing, but merely scattering leaflets around the field. I picked one up, and to my astonishment and chagrin, read the following message, in passable German:
“To the bold fliers of Jagdstaffel 6, greetings! I hear rumors that you have a new commanding officer. My compliments to him, and I invite him to a contest of skills within the next fifteen minutes above your field. However, I understand if the demands of paperwork require him to postpone to a more convenient time. I await your response.—Sincerely, Your French Friend.”
Well as you can imagine, such impudence is intolerable, and such a challenge could not be overlooked with my new squadron watching! Klepperman agreed wholeheartedly and offered to accompany me and teach these Gallic rascals a sharp lesson.
The SPADs had continued to circle in a leisurely fashion, but came about sharply toward us the moment they saw my “Lotti” and Klepperman’s Pfalz D.III in the air. The leader, clearly the rascal who offered the challenge, boldly mirrored my every move as we raced toward each other, while Klepperman broke right in a successful effort to draw off his wingman.
The lead SPAD and I nearly touched wings as we shot passed each other, guns blazing…and in a split second, I recognized my foe! That blond hair, that cocky grin, that, that Frenchness! It was my Parisian nemesis, Pierre Benjamin Lord! He offered me a mocking salute as he raced past, confident that I would try to turn to pursue him and assured that I would fail to catch him thanks to his plane’s superior speed.
I decided I would not dance to his tune! Spying Klepperman engaged with Lord’s wingman off my right side, I banked in that direction, hoping to lead Lord back into the fray where Kleppi and I could take him. As it happens, Lord’s wingmen, seeking to avoid the torrent of bullets Kleppi was directing at him with deadly accuracy, banked hard away to escape Klepperman’s Pfalz…and by sheer chance bracketed himself squarely in my sights! I depressed the triggers of my Spandaus, shredding his left wing. Seeing himself rapidly losing stability, he powered down immediately and glided into a rough but safe landing in a hayfield five kilometers from our aerodrome. (He was lucky we were fighting relatively close to a safe landing point). One down!
With the precision of wheeling falcons, Kleppi and I swung around simultaneously to engage Lord, who now realized the cost of his cheeky taunts. However, I must give that rascally Frenchman one thing…I have never seen any pilot fly a SPAD with the skill he does! First he zigzagged in a wild pattern as Kleppi swung behind, peppering him with bullets, then somehow survived by going into a mad barrel roll as I pulled alongside his left and raked his fuselage with fire!
However, even a pilot as skilled as Lord cannot last two against one for long, and as his fuel began to run low, the Frenchman made a run for his lines. Klepperman, who was a better position than I, fired a parting shot, and we were pleased to see his smoking SPAD touch down in No Man’s Land! A near complete victory! I say “near” because once again, our ground troops report the slippery Lord and his associate escaped unharmed to their lines after torching their downed planes. But I have won the respect of my new squadron with this escapade, and we have taught the French to think twice next time they seek to taunt us!
Your son
Wolfram Von Thun-Hohenstein
Oberleutnant, Jasta 6, JG1
Marckebeke
(Game Notes: A fun 4-player dogfight at Dave Zee's Wings of War demo last week, and a decisive victory for Germany--but don't worry, the Allied team came back next game with a spectacular success of their own, which I hope to chronicle in the near future!)