Flying Officer Kyte
02-07-2011, 02:58
All Betseys are off.
Just back from the ground crew, with all repairs completed, ”Betsey” wasn’t a patch on her old self. Consequently I decided to take her up for a test flight on our side of the lines today. All seemed well, although I had made a mental note to get the riggers to trim a little more tail heavy, as I turned for home. As my thoughts turned to what would be on the menu in the mess tonight, I noticed a small black spot silhouetted against the disc of the westering Sun. It was well on our side of the lines, but a second glance between closed fingers, showed it to be an aircraft. As it approached I could see that it was a Triplane, but an all black one. At once I took evasive manoeuvres and climbed to gain height. The pilot of the Hun machine was obviously no novice, and matched my every move. The less than perfect trim of “Betsey” allowed him finally to get inside my turning circle. It only took one burst from his Spandaus to cause my downfall. My engine failed totally, one of my struts was shot through, and I was covered with oil from the ruptured feed pipe. I could not dive, with the wings in such a parlous state, so I just put her into the steepest glide that I dared to and hoped for the best. I missed the shell craters by inches, and put her down near to a French Village. All that and I didn’t even get a shot off. By the time that I got back to the drome, all thoughts of Dinner were abandoned in my desire to get up again and take revenge before, the Sun set. This time I borrowed Nigel’s Tripe, and set off across the lines vowing vengeance.
Kyte.
Footnote. It was annoying to draw the explosion card on the very first shot of the game. I later discovered that my adversary was non other than Christophe von Rogerstein of Jasta 11. Yet another brush with an old adversary from the Red Barron's stable.
However, all was not yet lost, as there was still time to return the honours. A good half hour of daylight still remained. The next sortie of the day will follow shortly.
Rob.
Just back from the ground crew, with all repairs completed, ”Betsey” wasn’t a patch on her old self. Consequently I decided to take her up for a test flight on our side of the lines today. All seemed well, although I had made a mental note to get the riggers to trim a little more tail heavy, as I turned for home. As my thoughts turned to what would be on the menu in the mess tonight, I noticed a small black spot silhouetted against the disc of the westering Sun. It was well on our side of the lines, but a second glance between closed fingers, showed it to be an aircraft. As it approached I could see that it was a Triplane, but an all black one. At once I took evasive manoeuvres and climbed to gain height. The pilot of the Hun machine was obviously no novice, and matched my every move. The less than perfect trim of “Betsey” allowed him finally to get inside my turning circle. It only took one burst from his Spandaus to cause my downfall. My engine failed totally, one of my struts was shot through, and I was covered with oil from the ruptured feed pipe. I could not dive, with the wings in such a parlous state, so I just put her into the steepest glide that I dared to and hoped for the best. I missed the shell craters by inches, and put her down near to a French Village. All that and I didn’t even get a shot off. By the time that I got back to the drome, all thoughts of Dinner were abandoned in my desire to get up again and take revenge before, the Sun set. This time I borrowed Nigel’s Tripe, and set off across the lines vowing vengeance.
Kyte.
Footnote. It was annoying to draw the explosion card on the very first shot of the game. I later discovered that my adversary was non other than Christophe von Rogerstein of Jasta 11. Yet another brush with an old adversary from the Red Barron's stable.
However, all was not yet lost, as there was still time to return the honours. A good half hour of daylight still remained. The next sortie of the day will follow shortly.
Rob.