OTT CYM Mission 2 Bring Them Home (If You Can) - by Teaticket
“Grandad, tell us another one of your stories about flying in the Great War.”
“War’s no bleedin’ joke, kids”
“Jacques, watch your language with the children.”
“Right you are dear. Alright, kids. Did I tell you the one about how we got the name the X-Men? No? It was shortly after I got posted to a new squadron, the X Squadron of the Royal Naval Air Service that was sent to help the Royal Flying Corps over the Somme. The Naval Air Service in those days had squadrons with all sorts of different aeroplanes, but ours was simple. It had a flight of six Nieuport scouts, what you young’uns would call fighters, and a flight of three tandem or two-seater Sopwith 1 ½ Strutters. You remember the story I told you about how Uncle Bruce bagged two Huns. That was when there was just the scout flight, but soon after we were joined by the three strutters. The crew of that flight were all proper Englishmen as our flight commander, Flashman, put it – well except for one Welshman, a chap called Ian David-Lloyd. Soon after they arrived their flight commander, Arthur Percy Hastings, was sent out with his observer, Reggie Simpson to take ‘important’ pictures, as the brass always puts it. He had so much camera equipment they had to take the machineguns off his plane. Thankfully he was a great pilot – a really great pilot. The brass are all heart so the sent a second strutter as an escort with Ian David-Lloyd as the pilot and Charles Bazzden as the rear gunner. It seems the brass thought that wasn’t enough because soon enough Flashman summoned Jock MacDonald and me to go and fetch the strutters.”
"Jock and Jack, you two go and bring back the Strutters. Ha! Ha! Jock and Jack went up the hill....each as hapless as the other."
As Jock and I neared the rendezvous and we spotted two Huns - two Fokker Eindeckkers. One headed towards us and the other, a grey one, headed towards the Strutters. In the distance we spotted what we though was a French Nieuport on patrol. He sure would be welcome help as he was close to the Strutters.
Jock signalled that he’d take of the one Hun heading towards us and that I should help the Strutters
Jock and the Hun had a OK corral type shoot out. I can't say either came out on top.
Ahead of me it looked like the other Hun, the grey one, would beat me to the Strutters
As I got closer I could see that the Nieuport wasn’t French but one captured by the Huns. Luckily Ian had noticed the black crosses.
Arthur managed to evade the grey Hun at the last minute so that Hun missed his chance for a shot. That was fortunate ‘cuz Art's and Reggie's Strutter was unarmed
You know, kids, combat can be noisy and confusing. Sometimes you can’t hear a thing with all the din. I fired at the grey Hun or at least I coulda sworn I did.
I passed the grey Hun and fired on the captured Nieuport. At least I thought I had.
Air combat is a confusing business, kids. One moment you’re flying in a crowd, trying to avoid being crash into another aeroplane and then next you’re alone in the great, blue sky.
But Ian and Charles were still having a go at the captured Nieuport.
I had just a breather after the scrum of friend and foe when I saw no one escorting the Strutter with the photographs. We had better get there pronto as there were two Huns between us and the unarmed Strutter.
It was up to me because Jock, Ian and Charles were still tangling with the one Fokker that had met Jock at first.
Well they ganged up on that poor Hun and were giving him a right bloody nose.
They finished off that Hun alright. His plane was a mass of canvas, wood and metal, but I saw a sight I’ll never see again. As the plane plummeted that Hun pilot was falling with the bits and pieces. He started grabbing bits of canvas and what not, wrapped ends of it around his wrists and fashioned the world’s first parachute. He floated to the ground just as if he was on a feather bed. I swear it’s a true story, kids. I saw it with my own eyes.
I followed the other two Huns. The one with the Nieuport was closest. I fired and fired, but I still couldn’t hear my Lewis machinegun. I kept shaking my head to see if that would help.
Just then I saw that the lanyard that pulled the machinegun’s trigger wasn’t connected and that the gun had also jammed.
I was told a trick a RFC pilot, I think his name was also Jack. He had suggested to keep a mallet in the cockpit for such times. So there I was standing up in my Nieport, chasing that Hun, fixing the lanyard and banging away at the Lewis. A rare bit of darn good flying that was.
But none of that was of any help to the Strutter as the grey Hun was on his tail like a hound on a hare.
There was funny thing about the air war in those days. There was a magic line the enemy wouldn’t cross. If you made it across the line, the enemy wouldn't follow. Rather like being home free in a game of hide and seek. It was like that part of the world wasn’t there....sort of the edge of the world as it were. Really, 'struth, kids.
I finally got the Lewis working. Just in time too. I made that sneaky Hun pay dearly for tricking us. I fired and must of hit his fuel tank because the poor blighter blew up right in front of me. Nearly took me out too.
That left just one Hun, the grey one, and he high tailed it like a dog that stuck his nose in a porcupine's behind.
Ian and Charles had to escort Arthur and Reggie, so they followed them across the edge of the world. That left Jock and me to chase the grey Hun. He Hun dove down lower and lower with me following him, edging closer and closer to him to get him in firing range.
Finally he was in range...
He went lower and lower and this way and that way but couldn’t shake me. I shouldn't of followed him as there was a danger of ground fire, but my blood was up.
It got to where I was starting to feel sorry for the poor desperate lad.
Well fate intervened. My Lewis jammed. I took that as a sign it wasn’t that poor Hun’s time and turned to head back to the station.
Well, that’s the story. It made the local rounds and soon enough we were being called the X-Men by the Frenchies and Belgians. I’m not sure about the RFC lads – perhaps they still saw us as interlopers on their turf. Still I was awfully grateful to that chap, also called Jack, who recommended the mallet as an essential bit of a pilot’s kit. As for the Hun, I hear their Adler squadron had lost it’s second commander, so they was hopping mad and out for blood….but that’s a story for another time. Now go give your Grandma a kiss goodnight and off to bed you go.”
****************************************************
Results = the photographs brought back safely = a victory for the Seadogs.
Note: I used my recently built Fokker E.II but flew them with E.III stats.
Bookmarks