OTT-CYM Mission 6 The Dog Days of August (11 & 12) by ShadowDragon
OTT-CYM Mission 6: Dog Days of August 11-12 1916 – by ShadowDragon
Original scenario by teaticket
https://www.wingsofwar.org/forums/sh...-%96-teaticket
The brick-red Thunderbird convertible turned into the long driveway, flanked by vineyards, that let to an attractive but homey house with a wraparound veranda. Tom was glad to be home. While it was an enjoyable flight it was a long one. Three American entertainers wanted to go fishing. He had taken them all the way up to Cape York and points in between there and Sydney – Port Stephens, Hervey Bay, Cairns. They had a gig in Sydney and, as keen fishermen, wanted a jaunt up the east coast.
It was the first long haul with the Pilatus Porter PC-6 that had picked up cheaply at an auction. A beautiful airplane and a welcome addition to the fleet of Koala Charters.
The charter air business had been founded in the 20’s by his brother, Bruce, and his father-in-law, Jack. Bruce and Jack were actually the same age and had flown in the same squadron in the Great War. Tom was a generation younger – a late surprise to his mother – and had ended up marrying Jack’s daughter, Sofia. Koala Charters had been a very successful venture and more than paid the bills for the money losing venture that was the winery but the winery was the passion of his mother-in-law, Angelique. Originally from France and a long line of vintners, wine was in Angelique’s soul. Maybe they should have sold the winery and vineyard long ago but his father-in-law would deny his wife nothing. So they kept the enterprise going. Angelique insisted that one day Australians would come to appreciate their wine. Maybe. Tom could see that sooner or later the days of bush-piloting would come to an end and maybe by then the wine business would take over. Until then Jack and Bruce focussed on the airline. Angelique and Sofia focussed on the winery while Tom dabbled in both businesses. It was a happy mix.
As Tom approached the house his children and Sofia ran out to greet him. It was late in the day and the kids would be all wound up. Aw, that was okay. He’d get his father-in-law to tell one of his wartime stories which always got them settled.
Before long the whole crowd that was the extended family was on the veranda when Tom suggested, a twinkle in his eye, “Jack, you’ve never told the story of the first time you were shot down. I’m sure the children would love to hear it….as would I”.
“The FIRST time I was shot down!!! Don’t be so impertinent…”
“You were shot down, grandpa? What happened?” interrupted the eldest, Mikey.
“What happened? Well, I was killed.”
The two youngest looked on with eyes as wide as they’d go, but Mikey pinched his face and stared at his grandfather.
“I got better.”
Mikey still stared.
Jack chuckled at his joke. “Okay, I see I will have to tell you the tale. It was in August 1916. Your uncle Bruce was away being wined and dined for becoming an ace while the rest of us had to toil on. Three of us, Jock, Fergis and me, were called into the old man’s office. In addition to Sir Henry our flight commander, Flashman, was there. Sir Henry tossed a couple of photos on the table.
“Gentleman, these were found on the body of a German officer shot down a few days ago.”
Everyone stared at Fergis as if he should know something about it, but Fergis just shrugged.
Rumsbottle went on, “I don’t think I need to tell you but, as you lot may might be too thick to figure it out, the Hun is planning an attack on the RNAS seaplane station in Dover. The admiral is quite concerned and since X Squadron has being making a name for itself he’s demanded that a flight of three planes fly back to Dover to shore up its defences.”
Before we left, Flashman gestured at Fergis, “Fergis, just a few words with you in private,” and the two of them headed off to another room.
Well the mission was a long shot. In those days you’d be lucky to intercept a raid, but luck was with us. Jock was flying further east up the coast while Fergis and I kept in close to Dover. It was good to be flying over water again. It reminded me of prairie wheat fields. We were flying high and decided to drop down to see what was what when we found ourselves on either side of three Hun Albatros C.III sneaking in to the port at a low altitude. That was quite courageous of them as Dover was a bit far from their bases in Belgium. They’d probably have to ditch.
Fergis ended up just ahead of an Albatros with Turkish markings. We recognized the markings from our time in the Mediterranean. What was a Turk doing here? Or was it being flown by crew that were soon to head down to Turkey?
Fergis got a few rounds in…
But the Hun or Turk, as it were, had the better of the exchange as the observer hit an oil line and Fergis’ Neuport started to belch black smoke. Maybe the smoke would attract Jock as we could use the help. The Hun two-seaters were a tough foe and they were rapidly nearing the RNAS station.
I came down out of the clouds on the other side, close to a brown Albatros with clear doped linen wings and German markings.
I got very lucky and hit something important. The Albatros exploded and fluttered to the sea. But I didn’t get off too easily. The Hun had damaged my flight controls.
That made it two on two but the all CDL Albatros had a head start on reaching the station. I was closest so it was going to be up to me to stop it.
I did a bit of damage to the CDL Albatros but not enough and the observer further damaged my controls. I was going to be lucky to get back to the aerodrome.
Fergis did some cracker jack flying and got into a good position but, as fate would have it, his Lewis jammed.
With my next chance at the CDL Hun I was on target – the Albatros started to jerk about. I had hit the engine, but luck wasn’t all going my way. My controls had been hit again. The Nieuport was nearly flying without my guidance.
I kept at the CDL Albatros but the Turkish plane came in on my starboard side and hit my controls for a third time. That was it. The Nieuport went into a glide toward the water. I brought it down on the water without too much damage but I needed to get out quickly. We had put flotation devices into our Nieuports in case we ended up ditching but the engine would still drag the nose and cockpit under water. I was lucky. I got out and hung onto the tail. A skill from the harbour was coming out to pick me up. In the meantime I had a front row seat on the rest of the air shot.
The CDL Albatros would have to head home. I expected it to drop its bombs to lighten the load which it did but unfortunately it was close to the port.
I crossed my fingers but the bombs hit close to the quay. Not a lot of damage but still some damage – a parked seaplane got hit. Not a great success and there was still the third Albatros. Fortunately help was on the way in the form of a Scotsman called Jock.
Finally Fergis got sorted out and blasted the Turk. Flames flickered around the Albatros but luck was still playing footsie with us as the Turkish observer’s fire ripped great chucks of wood and fabric from the Nieuport. Fergis headed back to the aerodrome.
That left just Jock to stop the flaming Turkish plane that continued toward the RNAS station but his Lewis seemed to have jammed.
Those Turks were gutsy and accurate. Their bombs dropped right on the entrance to the station’s magazine. Wooosh! I though the whole cliffside would come down.
It was too late but using that clever trick with a mallet we learned from some RFC chaps ferrying some RNAS Nieuports no less, Jock got his Lewis unjammed was determined to make the Turks pay.
I wasn’t sure if it wasn’t Jock who was going to pay the price.
But Jock persisted and the Turkish Albatros went down which was darn fortunate as Jock’s Nieuport looked as bad as Fergis’.
So there I was sopping wet with seawater, sipping some hot tea and being driven back to the aerodrome by some friendly RN lads – “Great show, sir. You really blasted that Hun out of the sky. Pity of the magazine though.”
Still, I was feeling pretty chuffed at shooting down one Albatros, driving off another and most importantly being alive, when I arrived at the aerodrome. Jock and Fergis were in a lorry waiting for me. “Hop in, Jack. The admiral wants to see us ASAP.”
“Medals, you think.”
“Don’t know. They just said ASAP.”
Soon enough we were before the admiral and me still sopping wet.
“I suppose you gentlemen think I’m going to congratulate you for shooting down a couple of enemy aeroplanes. Well, I am not. Your job was to protect the harbour and a rather fine mess you made of that. Fortunately the magazine was not too damaged which is more than I can say about her ladyship’s fine china. Several pieces smashed due to the explosions. You’ll be paying for the damage out of your wages. X Squadron! Top notch flyers! Bah! You are to return to you home station at once. I don’t want to see you three around here a second longer than necessary.”
Well, we sure left there with our tails between our legs.
On the trip back to France, Fergis was in a foul mood.
“What’s with him?” I asked Jock. “He’s not upset by the chewing out the admiral gave us, is he.”
“Nay, laddie, he’s upset because I got the credit for downing the Turk even though he had done most of the damage. He says it would have helped to remove the dark cloud over his head, but now it’s still there.”
Tom interjected, “So what was the black cloud over Fergis?”
“in due course, Tom…in due course….but not tonight,” Jack smiled.
"In all my years of knowing you, dad, I've never heard the end of the story for Fergis."
Jack smiled.
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and Observers badge for his victory & service to the Kaiser. 
Originally Posted by Stumptonian
Just got around to catching up on your 
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