“And there’s a fresh breeze blowing from the west, so for God’s sake be careful not to get blown over the lines”, warned Stanhope as he gave out the day’s orders.
“Right; Uncle, you and your chaps to conduct an OP in the North Betancourt sector, Trotter – you’ve got the North Bois de Jacinthes sector. I’ll cover the Central Foudroyé sector. Just remember that bloody wind, gentlemen; and stick to your flight leaders”
Half an hour later Stanhope’s ‘A’ flight was on its ‘OP’, or ‘Offensive Patrol’. Stanhope checked the landmarks below; there was the shattered chateau, across the lines was the southern edge of Railway Wood. “Damn,” he thought, “the wind’s blowing us across”. He craned his neck to check that his formation were still keeping station; behind him and to the right he saw Lowery’s and Pope’s machines exactly where they should be, then to his left were Jessop’s and Farrell’s SE-5s.
Farrell saw him checking and the young Canadian gave a cheerful wave . For the first time, it seemed, Stanhope allowed himself a brief smile; they were doing all right. Suddenly a burst of machine-gun fire from Lowery’s machine made him look over; Lowery was pointing and Stanhope’s eyes followed to where he was indicating. There, far below them to the north, was a German two-seater. He chastised himself inwardly; why hadn’t he spotted it? Lowery had done well, but Stanhope felt the sting of failure for not seeing the reconnaissance plane. He scanned the skies, fearing a trap.
And there it was; four – no, five – shark-like silhouettes. They were unmistakable; Albatrosses. It was finally time.
* * *
So, the third campaign day and our first game. Neither of us know where the ‘Show’ will be, nor which side will take the offensive on the ground, as this is part of a randomised mechanic. All we can do is try and influence or support it from the air. So far, all the build-up has been on the British side, which in 1917 was always the most likely in any case. It’s still early days, but it looks like the area north of Betancourt will be the spot chosen.
It was for this reason that Henry had ordered a reconnaissance mission behind the British lines around Chateau Foudroyé; if he can successfully photograph the build up on the ground I can be pretty certain that tomorrow those poor Tommies will be on the receiving end of a battery of German five-nines as Henry will undoubtedly follow up with an artillery spotting mission.
So, here we are; my forces comprise Major Stanhope’s ‘A’ flight: five SE-5As. Stanhope himself is experienced, but Jessop, a shy grammar-school boy from North Yorkshire, Lowery, a vicar’s son fond of sketching wildlife, Farrell, a Canadian with two brothers in the trenches, and Pope, a keen sportsman from Tewkesbury who, as a schoolboy, was ‘one to watch’ for the 1920 Olympics, are all classed as ‘green’.
Against them, Henry has Kette II of Jasta 85 and a lone Halberstadt CL.II on the reconnaissance mission. All are experienced.
Stanhope’s flight entered the centre of the board at level 4, Henry was lucky with his deployment and had both his formations, the single Halberstadt and Kette II of Jasta 85 over to the north. His Albatrosses were also at level 4, the two-seater at level 2, ready to make its photo-reconnaissance run. There was a fresh breeze from the west, meaning that after each activation planes would displace one space towards the German side of the line. This was something to consider, as any planes that exit over the enemy’s line are automatically lost.
My plan, with my inexperienced flight, was simple; charge headlong towards the Germans and get some shots in, then turn tail and head for home. Head-on, high deflection, shots are unlikely to hit, so my boys would be able to get some experience and still make it home. Henry didn’t let me do this.
We were closing, as per my plan; Henry lined himself up for the fight. Then, unexpectedly, two of his aircraft – one with red wings and another with a blue fuselage and red nose – peeled off to the south, hoping to round behind my novices. The remainder of the Kette drove straight at my SE-5s, shots were exchanged and one of the Albatrosses took some damage from Stanhope’s Lewis guns. 2nd Lieutenant Jessop got a shot in, but most of the flight had no targets. I was worried, as I was now in a full-on dogfight against a superior enemy.
Stanhope swung his ‘plane round in a tight turn and got another shot in on another German ‘plane. Meanwhile, Pope had dived to the north in pursuit of the Halberstadt. It was risky; if one of the Albatrosses had followed him down it would have been very likely that they could have got on to his tail.
As Jessop closed back on the action he nearly rammed the back of Lowery’s plane and had to dive to avoid it. The action continued and, as with any dogfight, it is almost impossible to recount blow-for-blow; the Germans had re-entered the fight and were very much targeting my flight leader, who seemed to be everywhere, putting his machine between the brightly-painted Albatrosses and the rookie pilots of ‘A’ flight. At some point or other almost every enemy plane had a pop at Stanhope but his luck held.
By now I felt that to prolong the action was to push it too far; my boys had got their first taste of action and, once they had slept on it, they would come out tomorrow as better pilots. It was time to go home.
But, as happens so often, the greatest drama came just before the curtain fell. Stanhope, who had again put himself between the enemy and his men, was jumped by the red-winged Albatross of Wilhelm Roth. Twin spandaus spat murderous lead, wires twanged and fabric ripped…
The SE-5 went into a spin.
If it had been one of the new chaps, it would undoubtedly been ‘goodnight Vienna’, but as it was an experienced pilot, Stanhope was able to pull out at Flight Level 2. Looking above him, he could see the rest of the flight putting their noses down and heading for the aerodrome. Satisfied that his work for the day was done he made ready to do the same, but then he saw the black and white shark-like form of Ludwig Benzler’s machine giving chase to the retreating pilots above. Once again Stanhope put himself in danger, deliberately flying across Benzler’s path instead of turning for home. The German took the bait and dived down after him, but Stanhope had one last trick up his sleeve. Jerking the stick and kicking the rudder, he turned and dived; Benzler couldn’t dive fast enough to follow him, and besides, the manoeuvre had taken Stanhope up to maximum energy and he was easily able to out-distance the German pilot as he skimmed low across the trenches.
So what of Pope and his lonely chase of the Halberstadt, I hear you cry?
Well, the Halberstadt had completed its photographic reconnaissance mission and was, by the time Pope got to it, on its way home. Pope approached it from the side, having precisely zero appreciation for how deadly a two-seater could be.
In truth, not having needed to consult the firing table for a rear gunner before, I was a little shocked to realise that I had a 50/50 chance of being damaged or shot down! I held my breath; Henry rolled…
A three.
Phew!
Pope’s fire was equally ineffective and he, too, turned for home. Back at Sainte-Crispin-Église I was pleased to have all my pilots safely home. When they next take to the skies they will no longer be ‘green’; they will be seasoned and more effective.
And Stanhope? In the post-game discussion I decided that I would recommend Stanhope for an MC; he continually put himself in danger to protect his men and pulled off some pretty fancy flying. I’ll write up the citation and we’ll see what the awards committee decide some time next week.
Bloody Betancourt 