August 8: The Twenty-minuters

“It’s all right, Sir, I gotya”

George felt strong arms pulling him up. He looked round wildly, trying to focus on something, anything. He had the sensation of being dragged along the ground, a confused array of images and sounds broke through the blackouts and tinnitus; he saw an SE-5 spinning into the ground, the shoulder patches of the Withamshires dragging him along, he heard the tap-tap-tap of a lewis gun and the whizz of five-nines passing overhead…

“Come one, get him in the bloody trench before Fritz starts shelling the wreck”

Soon 2/Lt. George St. Barleigh was sat in a dug out, a blanket round his shoulders. A Tommy handed him a cup of tea, “Put a spot of brandy in it for you, Sir. It’ll perk you up a bit”. George looked at him blankly before remembering his manners. He forced a smile, “Oh, thanks”, before adding, “where am I?”.

“Piccadilly, Sir”, the soldier replied. As he left the dugout he saluted a captain who was just entering, “Captain Montague, Sir”. The salute was casually returned, “Haines”.

The Captain put his tin hat on the table, “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you Sir. Do you know what happened to the others?”

“Friends of yours?”

“Yes, well no; I only met them last night in the tender on the way to the squadron. It was our first patrol. Did anyone get the Hun?”

“Archie got the Hun”, he replied, referring to the anti-aircraft artillery. He looked at him, as he’d looked at so many young subalterns before.

“I’m afraid your pals were killed; the bastard got all three of you.”

* * *

After having a bad time of it recently, Henry was out for revenge. He got it in spades.

For the last game of the 8th August it was Trotter’s ‘C’ Flight that were in action. I’d turned Trotter’s flight into a reception/training flight where the new boys would start; no heroics, just get in, give a squirt of the lewis gun and get out again as quickly as possible. Under the watchful eye of Captain Trotter, a man with two kills to his name, it seemed like a good idea, but I didn’t take into account how dangerous two-seaters are, something that did for many new pilots in the Great War.

The Germans had an artillery observation plane over the central Betancourt sector, where the British had been pushing men into the line. Escorting them were the boys of Kette Zwei, under the command of Hauptmann Leopold Gansz, there to meet him were Trotter’s new boys. My plan was simple; Henry had reflected on the significant advantage height gives so I knew he’d keep his men ‘up top’, especially if Trotter was there to give them the run-around, and my tactic was to have Trotter at Flight Level 4, with the three new guys down at FL2 to take on the Halberstadt. If Henry detached planes to protect the Halberstadt then there may be an opportunity to get on his tail, but all the while I’d be keeping an eye out for a trap. The plan worked as I’d hoped; Henry kept his entire kette at maximum altitude chasing Trotter while the green pilots engaged thousands of feet below.

The first SE-5 has a go without scoring any hits

Low cloud hid the two-seater from view for the first half of the game, before it finally emerged. The Halberstadt deftly circled around the British, the rear machine gunner firing a burst into George’s rear aspect, shooting him down. One down, two to go.

The Halberstadt pilot neatly circles round to give his rear gunner a shot

The German got on with the job in hand, bringing down ranged five-nine rounds onto the Tommies below. Another SE-5 rounded on it, but I’d inadvertently exceeded my actions – the new pilot went into a spin at less than 3,000 feet, being killed when his plane hit the ground. While Trotter looked on, filled with anger, pity and frustration, the final SE-5 came in, getting on the Halberstadt’s tail. Their exchange of fire brought no hits, but the SE-5 had to swerve wildly to avoid a collision and lost control. He went into a spin and hit the ground.

Captain Trotter ended up with all four of Henry’s kette chasing him. He escaped, but if this had been ‘Mad Dog’ Hibbert I probably would have turned round and taken them all on

The artillery was wreaking havoc in my lines, but fortunately the Archie gunners found their mark and the plane was down, both crew being killed. Henry shrugged; they had done their job – not being part of his core Jasta he didn’t know them and he was sanguine about it. Three planes downed and a battalion pulled out of the line to recover? He’d take that, wouldn’t anybody?

As for the new boys, I remembered Captain Blackadder acidly observing, “So, we take off in ten minutes, we’re in the air for twenty minutes, which means we should be dead by twenty-five to ten”.