Text is below pictures and the story is a bit of a marathon - sorry
Benson my Batman shook me awake, rather rudely I thought, and as I came too I reached for my watch, mumbled some thing about I’m not on the morning patrol and started to turn over to go back to sleep. “Sir, Sir, wake up Sir the CO wants to see you. Now Sir, he said for you to come at once Sir and you know what he’s like if you don’t snap to.
Good grief what have I done now I thought but said nothing, just rolled out of bed and into my uniform. The uniform that every night I laid out neatly on the chair by the side of my bed. I’d been at the front long enough to know that at any moment you had to be ready to move fast, especially when the buggers from the other side of the lines decided to come calling, laying their eggs like some broody hen. Of course there was always another emergency such as being called before the C.O. that came out of the blue but at least I would be dressed suitably to receive it.
Running my hand over my chin I decided shaving and keeping him waiting would be worse than not shaving, although that would be bad enough. He’d never forgiven me for the incident with his aspidistra, how was I to know they only liked fresh water and that watered down whiskey having passed once through a junior 2nd Lt was verboten.
I only did it once but he’s never forgotten, or forgiven.
What time do you call this young Vagabond he said as I walked through his office door, and when was the last time you had a shave. Err I started to mumble but he cut me off short, “look now, Uncle and I don’t have all day to listen to your feeble excuses”.
That’s when I noticed Uncle sat in the corner and trying not to laugh.
“I’ve had your God Father on the phone again, General Melchett and he wants to know when you’re going to get shot again, don’t look so aghast, you know he has the services best interests at heart”. “Hum”, I did wonder about that but said nothing.
“Your bally flying suit, or have you forgotten that as well” he spluttered. “Err” was all I could say before he continued. “He wanted to know how many times you’ve been shot and does the armour work “Err” I started. “Stop sounding like a motor bike will you” he said “and just listen”. “I spoke to Uncle and he tells me you’ve been WIA 3 times. I said nothing. “Well is that right man, speak up” “Err - yes Sir”. “Well did it work” “Err – no Sir”, I got hit in the arm once and each leg, both left and right” “Well I suppose you limp evenly he said rather brusquely so small mercies I suppose”. “Not in the body then”, he enquired hopefully, “No Sir, but my father sent out some armoured leggings to go over my brown fighting trousers so if I get shot in the leg again I’ll soon find out if it works”.
“Well get on with it then and let me know as soon as you get shot again”.
“Err - Yes Sir” was the best response I could make.
Oh and before you go I want you to take over C Flight on a temporary basis until Anstruther-Browne is out of hospital. I was hoping that Drummond would be back but we’ve had some bad news I’m afraid and he won’t be re-joining the Squadron, Uncle will fill you in later.
I would have preferred a more experienced pilot to stand in but MacNair and De Lacy are still on secondment from the French. I’ve asked if they would apply for a transfer to the RFC and they agreed but it will take a while for the paper work to go through.
“So until then we have you and Berry with equal seniority”. His eyes glazed over and I suspect he was thinking of the day we both arrived, which was confirmed by his next statement “I still have nightmares about that day he said”. I decided now was not the time to confide that “so did I”
Anyhow, Uncle tells me you are coming on and would make a better choice that Berry and I’m inclined to agree with him and with only 3 scout pilots available, you’re the only choice.
“Right oh that’s it, Uncle has a little job for you, he’ll brief you in 5 minutes, I just want a word with him first”. “Wait in the briefing room, and I was dismissed, “oh and get a shave man”. “Yes Sir” I dutifully replied. I’d just reached his office door when he fired one final round across my bows, “and don’t forget to let me know as soon as you get shot” “Yes Sir”
All this just because of a wee pee in his pet plant. OK – it did die afterwards but that might have been for a number of other causes not necessarily linked directly to me.
Perhaps.
The Briefing had been - brief, we were making another push to grab a few more yards of mud and to assist in that endeavour our lads on the ground had something called a tank. Uncle described it as a land battleship but he didn’t seem to know much about them apart from the fact that they had engines and used fuel, the same as a battleship. Our job was to escort a convoy of tenders full of fuel to some sort of staging post, just keep any enemy planes away from them, were our simple instructions. No fuel – no Tanks, no Tanks – no push.
This didn’t sound very good.
I was feeling immensely nervous leading the flight but we had arrived at the rendezvous point on time and in the right place which was a relief.
In my Bebe I felt like a Minnow between two Barracuda’s. It was reassuring to have on my port side the Twa Jocks, MacIver and MacGreggor and on my starboard side Jack Cowan and Joe Ryan. When Uncle had informed them of my promotion (Temporary) to Lt and command of C Flight they’d all burst out laughing, then clapped me on the back and said I was in the chair when we got back.
MacGreggor asked Uncle if my promotion (Temporary) meant I was now on a Lieutenants pay and so could afford single malt instead of the beer and whiskey chaser he usually drank. Just bring him back in one piece will you Uncle retorted so he can stand the Squadron to a drink.
What – the whole Squadron, I thought it would just be C Flight I muttered, quietly, under my breath.
My nervousness increased when I saw up ahead 3 shapes I didn’t recognise, they looked like pale shark’s, a uniform CDL colour, obviously not long at the front because the Hun were fond of painting their planes gaudy colours. Some said it was camouflage I didn’t believe that, a black spec stands out against the blue sky or white cloud, at a distance you don’t see its colour, it’s just a black spec.
Well three against three, that should be OK even if they were the new plane we had heard rumours about. Single seat Albatros were the rumours, fast and tough, there was even talk of a 2nd gun firing forward. They had tried it on the Fokker Monoplane but it hadn’t been a roaring success, it slowed the plane and we hadn’t seen many of them on our sector.
For once I wasn’t nervous about the coming fight, the death or disfigurement, the flames or killing another human being, no I was far more nervous about making a good showing in front of my messmates. The Twa Jocks were a legend in their own lifetime, stories were told and some of them were true, they scared the living daylights out of me and I was on their side. Jack Cowan and Joe Ryan in the other plane had both been my Observers at different times, when I’d flown that FEE with the V for Vagabond on it’s top plane. We had a bond that was stronger than anything I’d known and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I would have much preferred to be in that plane with either of them rather than on my own in this flimsy but beautiful steed that also had the V for Vagabond on its top plane.
I waggled my wings to show I had seen the enemy, I knew the FEE’s would already have seen them but it’s expected.
I tried to be clever and pull wide to the right to curl round into the side of the enemy and attack from their flank, this was a disastrous move because I wasn’t far enough in front of the CDL FEE and I cut across Jack Cowan’s path, not too close but close enough. I knew he would be shaking his head in wonder at my inept ploy.
That’s when I saw another plane emerge from the cloud bank and now there were four. Their lead plane was just inside long range and MacGreggor opened fire.
This was reciprocated and the fight started in earnest.
You can see here where my dumb move got me, out of the fight and I can’t turn in because I will almost certainly hit the FEE if I do, we have approached faster than I anticipated and I am just a spectator at the moment. To make matters worse the Albatros pilot was spot on the money and Jack’s plane burst into flames but to even the account Joe Ryan his observer was pouring lead into the Albatros, it surely couldn’t take much more of this.
The trucks have reached a junction and I’m going off piste from the scenario (sorry Paul) and 1,2 or 3 they will turn left and 4,5,6 will go right. It was right.
MacIver has flown past the lead Albatros and opens fire on its wingman, he must have hit an oil pipe because the plane starts to smoke like a chimney. Let’s hope his oil runs out and the engine seizes.
Just to give an overview of the situation, just like a cavalry charge both sides are flying through each other and then they will have to wheel around and do it all over again. Or not in this case, because the blue and green planes are going to dive and attack the convoy and the red and black ones will keep us off their backs.
It was pretty chaotic for a time, the blue plane has started to dive, the green one will follow shortly, in the distance the red one has Immeled, chasing after MacIver in the green FEE. That area was looking very crowded with German planes.
MacIver was still flying on a straight course away from the fight. There is some talk around the Drome that he has been moonlighting for another Flight and might just be a little tired, the extra hours dulling his razor sharp edge. No one has dared to ask about this loose talk yet.
In my pretty blue Nieuport I had Immeled to bring me around to chase after the planes diving down to attack our convoy. Jack Cowan was turning hard to port, obviously with the double intent of putting out the flames and bringing his plane back into the fight. It seemed to work because the fire appeared to do very little damage.
With a resounding crash that I heard over the sound of my rotary engine, two of the German planes flew into each other. It would have been a 3 plane pile up but one had started its dive down to the convoy and was under the two colliders.
I’m intent on making up for my foolish flying earlier and so concentrated on the Albatrii in front of me but there’s too big an altitude difference for me to make the shot. That’s my excuse for not seeing the bugger coming from my right, the Nieuport shudders as the bullets rip through her and then my heart stops as she catches fire.
As I look over my shoulder to see where the bullets are coming from there’s Joe Ryan extracting revenge on my behalf, and the enemy plane starts a long glide down to earth.
Having learnt a thing or two from my previous fire I don’t take a deep breath and try and blow it out but instead slap at it with my gauntleted hands, this seems to fan the flames and they flare up higher than before.
I continue to dive, fishtailing from side to side and see my original target much closer and so open fire. I am aware the Bebe has a reputation for losing wings in a hard dive, so when another enemy plane fires at me as well, you can understand why I’m more than a little distracted by what’s going on around me. Of course there’s the fire, don’t forget that, flames licking round your legs tend to make you lose concentration as well.
Anyway I missed the easy shot but I think that’s understandable in the circumstances.
The chap who fired on me didn’t seem to do any damage and so I ignored him.
Jack and Joe fly over their victim and in the distance the Twa Jocks are making their way back to the fight.
The chap I’d been firing at turns to attack the convoy but because I didn’t fully understand the rules he doesn’t open fire but his wingman stands his plane on its tail and fires straight up at me.
I didn’t think an Albatros would be that manoeuvrable, but I’m in a perfect position to make mincemeat of him which I do, also his gun jammed, so if it wasn’t for the flames warming my cheeks and other bits of me, I would be in a good place.
I had a lot of trouble due to the Albatros having a metal body which is too heavy for my magnetic ball joints.
I’ve ordered bigger balls to try and solve the problem. Mrs V is interested in my solution as well.
By a dint of cunning flying Jack Cowan has managed to put his fire out and the two FEE’s attack the lone high altitude Albatros, causing some damage but these planes are proving as sturdy as the two seat versions from the same manufacturer.
In a few seconds I see just how sturdy they, are as the Albatros pilot flies straight into MacIvers FEE. Causing 6 damage to the FEE and only 4 to himself. I wonder if this is the semi famous Christian ‘Crasher’ Rossenfeld, a pilot renowned on both sides of the trenches for downing more planes through collisions than with his machine gun.
We all jink about a bit and my plane is still on fire but the flames seem to have subsided a little and I’m on the tail of the enemy attacking the convoy. They’ve not had much luck so far partly because of my ineptitude with the rules and also just the luck of the draw.
I’m perfectly placed to destroy the Albatros in front and as soon as I can get the fragile Nieuport down to his altitude I will do, but as I said, I’m concerned I don’t become a monoplane before that happens. Up above me I see MacGreggor firing on the lone Albatros and then a most extraordinary thing happens.
The pilot of the downed Albatros gets back into his plane.
And takes off.
It takes him a little while to get into the air but after a bumpy ride over the field he manages without too much difficulty.
I expect anyone reading this will be thinking, “I don’t remember this is the scenario” followed by, “but it’s a jolly good idea, why didn’t Paul think of it” followed by “I wonder what the pilot was doing, did he need a wee? was it schnapps time? was he checking his fuel gauge was correct?” “maybe the pilot realised he panicked too soon and his plane wasn’t falling apart and after a full inspection decided he could risk flying it after all”.
The embarrassing reality is that whoever was running my game (me) added 6+4 =10 and an Albatros crashes on 10, we all know that. Then, a little while later, quite by accident, the same person realized they crash on 14 not 10 and so told the pilot to stop fannying about and get back into his plane and re-join the fight. So he did.
They say bad things come in three’s and in this exchange of shots MacGreggor scores enough damage on his opponent to send him flying back to base but in return a stray bullet sets fire to their FEE, which after the collision if rather fragile, this is not going to end well.
I finally nurse the Nieuport down to ground level and open fire on the Albatros ahead. There are 3 of the enemy now down at ground level and so Jack Cowan in V for Vagabond starts to dive down to help me out in V for Vagabond, leaving the Twa Jocks to see to the 4th enemy up in the sky.
I’m using 2 pegs instead of 1 to show altitude just because I prefer the aesthetics of it.
My fire finally blew itself out, and I could get down to the serious business of bagging Huns.
Bagged one!!!!
Kill to Vagabond – Yes really, I checked the addition 3 times. – Honestly. Mind you my notes say 14 points but the Butchers say 15!!!
A general overview of the situation, top left is the FEE of the Twa Jocks, on fire and with enough damage to send them home, they would fly a single circuit and then head home. The fire wouldn’t cause much damage and they would make it. The Albatros with the Black marker is also going home damaged.
In the far middle distance the plane with the red marker is the one who I thought had crashed but is rejoining the fight, he is badly damaged. Closing on him and almost at the same altitude is the FEE of Cowan and Ryan, not badly damaged in spite of the fire. My blue Nieuport is also not badly damaged.
I was very lucky with fire damage, from 9 counters drawn there was only 7 points of damage.
Bottom left, this chap with the green marker was exceedingly committed to taking out the convoy. Paul didn’t say how we would prioritise targets, so I drew the manoeuvre cards based on attacking the convoy but when an enemy plane had the convoy or an Allied plane as a target I rolled a dice to see which they would shoot at.
Weighting this roll initially to the better target and then once they had made that decision future rolls were weighted more heavily to that chosen target.
In all cases the pilots went for the convoy not an Allied plane.
The FEE and Albatros had exchanged fire the previous move but I was out of position and needed to get back to the convoy to protect it from that German plane dedicated to destroying it.
This chap.
He was having a hard time of it because his deflection shooting was poor and his ammunition was worse, but given time he might manage.
I had decided to Imell and pulled up right in front of the German who had avoided Cowan, I could feel the Nieupot shake and shudder under the impact of the bullets, and thought “She canna tak much more of this”
Cowan had done a split S and was hot on the Germans heels but Joe Ryan’s Lewis gun was jammed again and they couldn’t fire.
The Bebe stopped shuddering and just blew up, I’ve no idea what happened, I was jerking about like a rabbit in the headlights then I was hitting the ground. The plane turned over and over and landed upside down, I could smell petrol and knew once it touched the hot engine I would be in serious if not terminal trouble.
Like many pilots I carry a service revolver with me in the air, we tell every one it’s so we can defend ourselves if we get shot down behind enemy lines but we all know that a bullet is a better way to go than being burned to death. It was all happening in slow motion, my seat belt clasp was jammed but strangely I didn’t panic, I was clear headed and knew what I had to do.
Rather than shoot myself, I reached for my clasp knife and was able to cut the harness, then I just dropped straight out of the plane. The pain was indescribable, I’d broken both legs in the crash and then dislocated my shoulder in the fall but was able to drag myself away from the Nieuport, which didn’t catch fire or explode, bless her.
Overhead I could see Cowan’s FEE chasing my killer but the bullets stopped almost as soon as Ryan fired, I wondered if there was something wrong with his Lewis gun, he was having a lot of jams.
Jack was flying a steady course, straight at the Albatros and I hoped he wasn’t going to do what I thought he might.
The Albatros pilot obviously thought so too because he dove under the FEE at the last minute and then immediately opened fire on the convoy. I don’t know who he is but we should have him on our side, I’ve never seen a pilot so dedicated to carrying out his orders.
A fast Immelmann turn put Joe back on target. He had obviously un-jammed the gun just in time to get a long shot into the receding enemy, but the Albatros was ignoring the FEE and lining up to attack the convoy again.
He’s still ignoring the FEE and hosing down the convoy.
The damage is 1+1 and slight pilot wound.
Joe stopped firing on the lead Albatros to shoot up the plane that had shot me down but damn and blast I could see his fire stop, obviously jammed his gun again. The convoy was being taken apart truck by truck, these two Germans were excellent ground attack pilots.
Jack continued to chase the plane that had shot me down, it had obviously taken too much damage and its pilot was trying to escape back home, but this left the other one time to finish off the convoy.
The T junction was the target for the convoy to reach and the lead truck made it with 7 damage points, it looks like 2+2+3+1 but is actually 2+1+3+1. All the others were destroyed.
The final showdown and Joe is back to his killer form, just too late and the German limps home with a busted engine and trailing a cloud of black smoke, I lie on the damp ground and wave to them as they fly over, Cowan waggles his wings to show he knows I’m alright.
As they flew away I knew I was in line for a long stay in the hospital but what really weighed heavily on my mind was the knowledge that I was going to have to explain to the C.O. that I still hadn’t been shot, he would be livid.
Bookmarks