OTT DYM Mission 10 - Double Jeopardy
After their losses at Verdun, Acting Lieutenant Dubh Beard and the rest of the squadron had returned to the British sector on the Western Front in France. It was the 13th March 1916 and the news filtering through to the front was mixed. The bad news was, a French airship had mistakenly attacked a British submarine (D3) yesterday and sunk it, with all hands lost. The positive news was that the ANZAC corps had been re-established after their trials and tribulations in Gallipoli and were due to arrive at the western front later in the month. Good news indeed.
But such rumours, concerning the world elsewhere, did not matter to Dubh right now. As part of his new duties he was paying a visit to the trenches. Cooperation with the army on the ground, stuck in that aweful mud in all weathers and constantly under fire, depended a great deal on his trying to understand their difficulties.
He stared, now, from under the canopy overhanging a large observation trench, and looked beyond the barbed wire to the ridge on the horizon. The dawn was breaking and warned of poor weather ahead, but he could just make out a dark spec in the distance. A German observation balloon that, for the past few days, had been ranging the enemy’s guns onto our lads in the forward trenches. It had to go. But the artillery were having a hard time trying to hit it, or at least the area that supported it. And now, looking at the ridge under that threatening sky, he understood why that was.
“We’ll get that sausage for you!” he said, in his broad Irish accent, to the Lieutenant standing at his shoulder. “I’ll take a couple of the lads up with me and shoot the bugger down! How does that sound?”
“Perfect!” came the Oxford English reply. “You really think you can do that, Beard?”
The doubt in this officer’s voice was apparent.
“It’s dangerous and difficult, but yes! I’m confident we can do just that. Thereafter, I’ll pay a visit to the artillery and let them know its precise position. Then, its my guess, they’ll not be replacing it in any great hurry. Hopefully you’ll get some respite from their bloody shells for some time!”
“Well, if you can manage it, we’ll be terribly grateful, old chap. Just be careful!”
“Oh, you can be sure of that, you can, you can.” The Waterford lilt was very strong and the British officer at his side just wondered if this Irishman was sincere. News from Ireland, after all, was a little disturbing right now, as the political situation began to bubble.
Dubh left the trench and scrambled, clumsily, over the difficult terrain, towards his “road” transport. On the way, he stopped off to have a quick word with some of the artillery officers and their crews, all hard at work, blasting off round after round towards the ridge he had just been studying.
“Yes we know about the balloon, old boy! Been having a little bit of bother trying to bring it down. If you think you can do a better job of it, be my guest and if you make it back, we’d be delighted to have your assistance in ranging its location.”
So, despite the hint of cynicism, satisfied with the contacts he’d made, Acting Lieutenant Dubh Beard returned to the barn to explain the situation to his CO, Uncle and his flight members and to ask for a couple of volunteers, once the CO had given the go ahead.
After all, balloons were difficult targets to destroy. Not because of their size. That bit was easy. But, firstly, because they were usually heavily defended and, secondly, because hitting them with the usual .303 rounds often appeared to have absolutely no effect whatsoever.
“Not sure I understand that, sir” announced newcomer 2nd Lt Simon Hawker, who was almost fresh out of university and knew nothing of military service. He could barely fly as it was, with a mere 15 hours practice in his log book!
As it happened, Dubh knew almost as much as there was to know on the subject at that time.
“Let me explain,” he said in reply. “But be patient and listen carefully. I don’t want to have to repeat myself.
“Balloons are kept in the air because they are filled with gas; not inside just one bag, but two. When our bullets penetrate, even both bags, nothing happens. Why not? Simple – very little gas escapes. However, if that gas ignites! Well, then, just don’t be too close to the damn thing, otherwise you’ll join it in hell.”
“So its a waste of time, sir, risking our necks just to force them to take the balloon down temporarily? Does that mean we don’t need to volunteer for this one?”
This comment met with a round of chuckles around the room, from men who knew him only too well; the question was asked by Bo Fletcher, an Australian with some experience.
“Not so, Bo” said Dubh. “In fact I have a little secret I’ll share with you.” he added, touching the side of his nose several times, conspiritorilly.
“A short while ago, some friends of mine in the RNAS …..”
“You haven’t got friends amongst that lot surely, Dubh” some bright spark piped up.
“Of course I have, now shut up and listen!” More chuckles around the room.
“As I was saying, these RNAS bods have access to something we don’t!”
“Which is? Asked Bo.
“Incendiary bullets! And they’re prepared to let us have some! At least enough for this next show!”
“Wow” exclaimed Bo as others did too, whilst those not in the know just looked blank and questionning.
“I’ll explain – Unlike normal .303 bullets, this incendiary type, named Buckingham, is made hollow, filled with phosphorus, then resealed with solder. The heat generated during firing melts the solder, the phosphorus is released over a distance of some 350 yards and of course burns in the air. Hey presto, you can not only see where its going, the burning has a chance of igniting the gas in a damaged balloon. The results, I am told, are pretty spectacular”.
And that did bring about a general consensus, expressed in excited babbling all round.
“ I haven’t finished though” Dubh shouted over the general enthusiasm.
“Uh oh, here comes the “but” !” called out Bo.
“Exactly, Bo. You see there are regulations involved. Serious ones.
“I’m not certain of my facts here, but from what I have managed to find out so far, according to the rules of the Hague Convention and the Declaration of St Petersburg, we cannot use these against another human being! If you do so and are subsequently captured, you’ll run the risk of being summararily executed!”
“Good Lord” was Hawker’s reaction, ignored by Dubh Beard, who went on.
“So, if your ammunition belt is loaded with Buckingham, you are not to fire on the crew of the balloon. They’ll no doubt abandon it before you get too close, so just let them go! Nor can you use them against another aircraft. If attacked by an EA make sure you’ve changed ammunition before responding. That’s an order, not only from me, but from the CO too. Is that understood?”
There was a general nodding of heads and wide eyed confusion from some faces.
“Any questions?”
“Yes, sir. How will the enemy know if we ‘re only firing at the balloon?”
“They won’t. But you’ll be given a written order to attack the balloon and you will carry strict written instructions outlining the limitations placed upon you. You’re advised to carry those orders with you on all such occassions!”
That settled them a bit, so Dubh continued to explain the mission. He would go up himself, to shoot down the balloon with this new ammunition. His escort would be 2nd Lt Simon Hawker, who by this time had amazed everyone by volunteering. They would be backed up by the Australian, 2nd Lt Bo Fletcher, who felt obliged to go too, as he was meant to be mentoring Hawker.
“Damn it.” Fletcher muttered to himself later. He knew how dangerous it was to attack balloons and he wasn’t so very keen on the idea!
In the distance the guns continued to rumble and that night Dubh had an unpleasant dream in which he crashed in a ball of flame! Or was that a balloon burning he could see?
“What did I forget?” went through his sleep hazed mind, time and time again. He’d forgotten to warn them that the army had its own balloon up too and that the enemy were likely wanting to have that down. During his chat with the artillery personnel they had asked him to keep a weather eye on it for them! There was trouble ahead! To be sure, to be sure!
Early the following morning, therefore, had found them in the air, heading for the distant speck that was a German observation balloon. And sure enough, they passed their own side’s balloon on the way. It was a good thing Dubh had remembered it in time! Bo had been designated to keep an eye on it. That meant that Beard and the new boy, Hawker, would attack the enemy sausage, whilst 2nd Lt Bo Fletcher would do his best to fend off the enemy aircraft that would inevitably attempt to mimic their own aggression. They could focus on their job and worry about the rest when it was completed. Somebody, however, had other ideas!
Their approach was unhindered. Flying east they flanked their target before turning north to scream into the attack. In his eagerness, 2nd Lt Simon Hawker went ahead. So he was first to give the enemy balloon a dose from his Lewis gun. Daka daka daka daka.
Amazingly, despite all he had been told about the ineffectiveness of ordinary .303 rounds, the balloon started to smoke as a small fire hissed its way out of the holes it had just received.
Hawker was thrilled, as immediately the balloon’s ground crew began to winch it down and he saw the two observers leap from the basket below the monster, their parachutes opening satisfactorily. And as he sped closer he fired again – daka daka daka daka, daka daka daka daka. His shooting wasn’t bad at all, until clunk, his gun went silent, the result of a jam. And he panicked a bit, hammering furiously at the breach. He was so intent on this that he only just managed to swerve away from the balloon in time to avoid a collision. It was then that he realized they had company. Which puzzled him just for a split second or two, then he started sweating. Passing in front of the nose of the balloon was a green Fokker!
Meanwhile Acting Lt Dubh Beard had also opened up, with a short burst of incendiary, at long range. But nothing happened! He couldn’t really miss that target but the rounds had absolutely no effect whatever. This was not supposed to happen! His second burst at short range was better, then he too had to slide away and around the target. He went right, whilst young Hawker had gone left.
He was pleased to see the first flames pour from the balloon as he passed and was able to give it yet another short range burst with his incendiary ammunition. Daka daka daka daka, daka daka daka daka. Another gout of smoke, with flame, burst from the side of the balloon. The incendiaries had done their work. This was suddenly going well!
And all the while, way back to the west, Bo Fletcher had his hands full as the enemy returned the compliment and attacked the British observation balloon. But more of that later.
Another burst from Dubh’s Lewis hit home hard, as he flew around the balloon to the far end of it and all the while the flames grew fiercer.
The crew below were working frantically, in the hopes they could get the balloon down in time to extinguish the flames and save it, but they were onto a loser I fear.
On, past the balloon went Dubh. Then he pulled back on the joy stick, kicked the rudder over and around went the DH2 in a sharp “Immelman” turn. Tumbling back towards the balloon he fired again. Daka daka daka daka, a momentary hush, then, woooosh and the balloon erupted in a sheet of flames and billowing smoke. She died in an instant and tumbled in a twisting, flaming, thrashing bundle of burning wreckage, to her furious but resigned crew below.
“Job well done! Comhghairdeas Dubh!” he congratulated himself. “Time to find young Hawker again, then hopefully link up with Fletcher.”
An appropriate time to find out what Bo Fletcher has been about for the last few minutes:
In what amounted to a mirror image attack on the British observation balloon, two Fokker mono planes had flown into the attack from the east. Ltn Friedrich Collin (Blue dot on base) had been ordered to escort Ltn Hans Leptien (Green dot) whose job it was to destroy the Yellow horror that was making life very uncomfortable for their boys in the trenches. Somehow, Leptien too had “appropriated” some incendiary ammunition and was feeling more than a little excited at the prospect of sending the evil beast, in flames, to hell.
Ltn Collin led the attack, hoping to draw any supporting fire. Swinging south, into the wind, he opened up at long range and continued until, click, he too experienced a gun jam. Ltn leptien, following closely, also scored several hits against the yellow peril and it was with satisfaction that he noted fire beginning to show on the surface of the balloon almost immediately. The incendiary ammunition had done its job!
Then the opposition joined the party, as Lt Bo Fletcher sped, like an arrow, into a counter attack. Unfortunately for him, Fletcher’s long range burst completely missed, whilst Leptien, although at short range, was caught slightly unawares, having no doubt been focusing on a rather more important objective. So his shots were pretty wild too, few of them landing on target. They tore passed one another, whilst the fire on the balloon took hold, leaving Hans Leptien to have another go at the sausage.
Daka daka daka daka, daka daka daka daka, clunk! “Scheisse!”
“Gun jams. Always verdammtes arschloch gun jams, at the most inappropriate moments” He screamed into the slipstream. And started hammering to clear the jam.
Behind him, Ltn Friedrich Collin and Lt Bo Fletcher had decided to turn and start a chicken run towards one another, whilst the new boy on the block, 2nd Lt Simon Hawker and his opponent, the rather more experienced Obltn Gisbert Habich, tried to do the same, less successfully. Collin and Fletcher timed their attack pretty well but Collin’s shots went wide. Those of Fletcher however did not, so although Fletcher, too, suddenly had his machine gun jam on him, it was only after the Fokker in front of him had obviously been seriously hit.
“Gott im Himmel” exclaimed Collin, as his engine coughed and spluttered. It was time for him to take his leave and make a hasty exit in the direction of home. He just prayed that this would be possible!
Meanwhile, Habich and Hawker had shaved past one another without firing a shot!
And where had the flight leader, Acting Lieutenant Dubh Beard, disappeared off to during this martial exchange of unpleasantries? Having destroyed the German balloon he was about to turn and join the fight around the British sausage, which Hans Leptien, having successfully and with great relief cleared his gun jam, was attacking once more. Daka daka daka daka, daka daka daka daka, clunk!!!!!!!!***###*** Yep, you knew already! Missed completely and clunk – another gun jam. Words failed the honourable gentleman from Germany and anybody looking closely would swear the air around his head had turned a distinct shade of blue!
There followed a brief period of relative inactivity, during which guns were reloaded or hammered clear and pilots manoeuvered for position:
The British observation balloon continued to cough and splutter in its death throes, but was taking its time about it, whilst the crew below continued like demented demons to attempt to haul it down before it met its armageddon – a complete waste of time, of course, but orders are orders!
Until eventually normal service was resumed and the Germans continued to fire wide – they were having a very bad day it would seem. And the balloon continued to burn very slowly!
Then, at last, Dubh Beard made another appearance (having taken time to switch from incendiary rounds to normal .303 ammunition) and together with Hawker, they took on the now ailing Fokker flown by Ltn Collin. Daka daka daka daka, daka daka daka daka, all three of them blasted away. And once again it was the German who fired wide, narrowly missing Hawker’s DH2. Hawker returned fire and noted the damage he seemed to do to the enemy aircraft’s rudder. He felt good about that! Beard also gave the Fokker a hard time of it and the damage was mounting for Collin and his EIII.
Meanwhile, Ltn Habich (red spot) rejoined the dogfight and he and Fletcher glared spitefully at one another as they passed. Hans Leptien though, stuck to his guns, made an Immelman turn and rushed back to hit the balloon with yet another effective burst of incendiary rounds. The doomed balloon lurched in protest as more flames errupted from its flank. And still the ground crew worked furiously, just as their counterparts had tried to do!
Having taken some severe punishment, Ltn Collin now attempted to run between the DH2s of Beard and Hawker, heading towards his own lines and safety, but now, Bo Fletcher had got his scent and smelled blood.
A long range shot from Fletcher missed but served to remind Collin that his engine was dammaged and that now his chances of escape were severely limited. And the yellow balloon burned some more, the spread of the flames now quickening pace!
Next up, Dubh Beard had more success and Hans Leptien’s luck began running out, together with a quantity of his precious blood. The German winced as the .303 rounds nipped at his aircrfat and then thudded into his person.
“Aaaaah” that bloody well hurt!
And yet another long range burst of fire from Fletcher zipped past Collin, a little too close for comfort. He could do it. He could escape. He knew he could, if only the engine would stop its miserable choking cough!
But the gap was closing fast and Fletcher was going to get his kill – he was certain of it! Whilst the balloon got another pasting, this time from both of the other Fokkers.
“Scheisse” this time from Hans Leptien, possibly because of the pain from his wound, but more likely because, yet again, his gun jammed – just when he was in a position to finish off the damned balloon and then make his getaway.
Fletcher was now gaining on the retreating Collin, but his shooting was abysmal. Another long range burst of machine gun bullets whined around Collin’s Fokker Eindekker, without doing a bit of damage. Collin’s hopes began to climb rapidly. He wasn’t far from safety now as a bank of cloud was not that far distant. He would make it!
Then, finally, Lt Bo Fletcher found his mark. He fired two more long range bursts, the second of which hit the Eindekker’s engine again and finished it off. With an anguished cry, Collin found himself heading for the trenches below. All he could hope for now was a safe crash landing, behind his own lines. Fletcher had got his kill!
For the gallant Germans, things were about to get worse. Both Gisbert Habich and the wounded Hans Leptien focused their attention on the doomed balloon, which by now was burning fiercely enough to ensure its ultimate demise. But the defending DH2s were buzzing around like angry hornets, determined to exact retribution. Dubh Beard turned sharply and got onto Leptien’s tail from above, damaging the Fokker quite badly from long range.
But the green Fokker, piloted by Gisbert Habich flew over (in the photo it looks as if Habich is under the balloon, but trust me, he was above it. The number two on the balloon’s base indicates its altitude at the time.) the balloon and caught Simon Hawker napping. Luckily for Hawker, most of the bullets just passed through the spaces behind the engine. But this manoeuver took Habich directly beneath Beard’s guns and Beard was not one to miss such an opportunity.
Now the two Germans were caught in a crossfire. Leptien, who had followed the balloon down too closely, came under fire from the ground (it missed) and Habich now came under fire from Hawker, who had also now turned about. But Hawker missed as well, added to which his gun now jammed!!!!!
Declining any further action with Habich, at this stage, Dubh Beard resumed his attack on Leptien and with one final burst at close range he knocked the Eindekker, Leptien and all, out of the sky. Down went the cream coloured bird, towards the trenches. But not his own! Dubh had his second kill of the day, counting the German balloon.
So, seeing this, ObLtn Gisbert Habich PB decided enough was enough. It was obvious now that the Britisher balloon was doomed.
He and his flight had done their duty well, but at what awful cost? It was time to get out of there. So he turned his back on the fight and headed for home. A fatal error, because Dubh Beard was not yet done with him. Having knocked out one of the remaining Eindekkers, Dubh Beard swung right and climbed, right onto Habich’s tail. Daka daka daka daka, daka daka daka daka. The dreadful sound shocked Habich who now realized the extent of his mistake. Too late! Daka daka daka daka daka daka daka daka.
The little green Eindekker could take no more and down it plummeted into no-man’s land. Dubh had three to claim now. He at least was well satsified with his days work.
And as Habich hit the ground the British observation balloon finally hit the ground too, a ball of flame, utterly destroyed. The three DH2s still buzzed around up there in the sky, where he should have been. But they no longer looked quite as angry!
The End
The Butcher’s Bill
Entente
A/Lt Dubh Beard / RTB / 3 kills (one of them the balloon)
Result – All good
2nd Lt Simon Hawker / RTB / 0 kills
Result – All good
2nd Lt Bo Fletcher / RTB / 1 kill
Result - All good
Central Powers
ObLtn Gisbert Habich PB / SD NML/ 0 kills
Roll 2D6 = 6 – 1 SD -1 NML = 4 Injured – skip 1 D6 = 5 Skip 5 scenarios.
E&E
Roll 2D6 = 5 – 1 WIC +1 NML = 5 In hiding – skip 1D2 Roll 1D6 = 4 Skip 2 scenarios
Result: Skip 5 scenarios (Effectively out of the campaign)
Ltn Friedrich Collin / SD FT / 0 kills
Roll 2D6 = 9 – 1 SD = 8 Injured skip 1D2 Roll 1D6 = 6 – skip 2 scenarios
Result – Skip 2 scenarios (Effectively out of the campaign)
Ltn Hans Leptien / SD ET / WIA / 1 kill (Balloon)
Roll 2D6 = 7 – 1 SD – 1 WIA = 5 Injured skip 1D3 Roll 1D6 = 4 Skip 2 scenarios.
E&E
Roll 2D6 = 12 – 2 WIA and WIC – 1 BEL = 9 They didn’t even see him!
Result: Skip 2 scenarios (Effectively out of the campaign)
Victory points:
Entente
Balloon destroyed - 10 points
3 x enemy scouts shot down - 6 points
Total 16 points
Central Powers
Balloon destroyed - 10 points
Total 10 points
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