Flying Officer Kyte
08-19-2011, 05:03
KoTA 4 Sortie 2. A reverse.
Early morning murk again saw Lt McQueen and Sgt. Rooke setting out on yet another bombing mission. :thumbsup: :hmm:This time, however, they were accompanied by Wingco. Kyte himself who had somehow convinced HQ. to circumvent the dictum that no senior officers were to fly on offensive missions.:salute::surrender:
As a defence against the cold morning air at 12000 feet he had with him his trusty flask filled with his accustomed beverage of G&T.:pint:
As they approached the target zone, with Kyte flying above and slightly above the DH to give cover.:camel:
From the direction of the nearest enemy drome, they were surprised to see a pair of hostiles attacking from the opposite direction.:fokker::fokker: Kyte had now to change his position quickly to cover McQueen, as Rook’s Lewis had jammed at the first pass by the enemy. Now vulnerable from the rear McQueen made a turn to the right and let his bombs go.:pray: As he pulled out still under heavy fire, :guns:he was just in time to see his Wingco engage the other Hun machine head on.:minis: In an instant it was all over. Kyte’s machine went down like a lead balloon trailing a stream of steam from its radiator pursued by the attacking Fokker Triplane.:erk: Seconds later a cry from Rooke indicated that he had been hit by a burst from the Albatros pilot.:eek: In dire straits, and with no chance of a further bombing run, the DH headed for home leaving behind it, a blazing factory and the still smouldering Spad of Wingco Kyte.
It was a very sombre company of pilots who assembled in the Mess that night to drink to the memory of their irascible but much esteemed leader.:serious::cry: As the night drew on a melancholy aura seemed to pervade the whole drome and many hard drinking pilots were seen to slink off early in order to commune with their inner thoughts and perhaps face their own devils. Too many bunks in the huts had been left empty of late.:salute:
Acting Adjutant. Cpt. R. Fanshawe- Bellingham.
The fracas begins.
20668
The Factory cops a packet.
20669
The demise of Winco Kyte's Spad.
20667
Rob.:salute:
Early morning murk again saw Lt McQueen and Sgt. Rooke setting out on yet another bombing mission. :thumbsup: :hmm:This time, however, they were accompanied by Wingco. Kyte himself who had somehow convinced HQ. to circumvent the dictum that no senior officers were to fly on offensive missions.:salute::surrender:
As a defence against the cold morning air at 12000 feet he had with him his trusty flask filled with his accustomed beverage of G&T.:pint:
As they approached the target zone, with Kyte flying above and slightly above the DH to give cover.:camel:
From the direction of the nearest enemy drome, they were surprised to see a pair of hostiles attacking from the opposite direction.:fokker::fokker: Kyte had now to change his position quickly to cover McQueen, as Rook’s Lewis had jammed at the first pass by the enemy. Now vulnerable from the rear McQueen made a turn to the right and let his bombs go.:pray: As he pulled out still under heavy fire, :guns:he was just in time to see his Wingco engage the other Hun machine head on.:minis: In an instant it was all over. Kyte’s machine went down like a lead balloon trailing a stream of steam from its radiator pursued by the attacking Fokker Triplane.:erk: Seconds later a cry from Rooke indicated that he had been hit by a burst from the Albatros pilot.:eek: In dire straits, and with no chance of a further bombing run, the DH headed for home leaving behind it, a blazing factory and the still smouldering Spad of Wingco Kyte.
It was a very sombre company of pilots who assembled in the Mess that night to drink to the memory of their irascible but much esteemed leader.:serious::cry: As the night drew on a melancholy aura seemed to pervade the whole drome and many hard drinking pilots were seen to slink off early in order to commune with their inner thoughts and perhaps face their own devils. Too many bunks in the huts had been left empty of late.:salute:
Acting Adjutant. Cpt. R. Fanshawe- Bellingham.
The fracas begins.
20668
The Factory cops a packet.
20669
The demise of Winco Kyte's Spad.
20667
Rob.:salute: