A Letter From 2nd Lt. William Lewis

[RAF_Louvert 101]

Morning All,

 

Cmdr. Albertson is presently missing and presumed captured, and will be writing no letters home for a while. So, another campaign has begun.

 

 

A Letter From 2nd Lt. William Lewis

 

 

October 19, 1917

 

Hello from France Robert,

 

I have finally made it to the War! As well you know there were times I thought I would never get here. My God, the administrative wheels of the military turn slower than anything I have ever had the misfortune to encounter. If the army is this tedious about getting things done out on the battlefield this fight will last a century. But enough of that. After five long months at Uphaven I was presented my "wings" and posted to a combat unit in Flanders, and in this one regard my prayers were answered. I am flying the Camel, and what a mount it is too! She climbs like a squirrel up an oak tree in April and turns on a dime while giving you five cents change. These Brits know how to build an airplane, I'll tell you that. I wish I could be as enthused about my squadron however.

 

They assigned me to number 3 RFC, and it pains me to say that this is one sorry lot. I know these boys have been fighting Fritzie for three years now, but that still can't excuse the lack of support or gumption in this outfit. Everyone here walks around in a funk all day long, from the CO right down to the second-class mechanic. It is awful! When I arrived, (via a tender that must have been the first one sent over in 1914), there was no one to give me even the time of day, let alone show me about the place. I eventually located the day officer who told me to find an empty cot wherever and stow my kit, and after a prolonged and determined request on my part, he deigned to show me where I could grab a bite to eat. Robby, you remember those meals of stale bread and tack on that fishing tug we worked in Lake Huron? Well, this was far more abysmal than those. At least we were in fine company on the deck of that old scow. No such fortune here. After several failed attempts at conversation with the three other flyers who were sitting about the mess, I finally gave up the ghost and just sat and ate my cold meat stew in silence. It was the most dispassionate and uninvolved room I have ever dined in. I left, stating that I looked forward to flying with them, to which one lifted his head from the book he was reading and let out a nasally, "Umm hmm". Quite the welcome don't you think?

 

After nearly a week of repeated requests to be assigned a plane I was eventually given my Camel. Commander Reynolds, (that's my CO), made the comment that he had never seen anyone in such a hurry to die as I was, to which I told him I had no intention of expiring anytime too soon. He gave a toothy smirk and quipped that the lad I'd replaced had no such intention either, but his first mission was none-the-less his last. On that note I was dismissed, so I made my way to the hangers to get acquainted with my mount. While not the newest bird in the shed, she is still a fine one. And I must commend my mechanic and riggers. They may have no more enthusiasm than anyone else about the place, but they are very serious about their work and did a fine job of trimming up my plane, and for that I am most grateful. I spent the next several days flying over our area of operations so as to get familiar with the lay of the land. I wasn't about to go out on my first mission and end up lost and landing in Fritzie's yard. By the way, I had to make these little jaunts on my own accord, as nary a soul offered to give me a tour of the front. It seems to be every man for himself at Baizieuk, but I was to learn this was not entirely the case, at least not in the thick of it.

 

My first mission was with Commander Reynolds and Flight Lt. Baxter, and we flew as escort for a gaggle of RE8's on a recce. The morning was bright and clear with white puffy clouds high above. We were to head east towards Cambrai, and we met up with our charges near Albert at about 12,000'. After a sort delay we all began across the mud, and I was introduced to Archie. Startled me when the first one popped, and I veered away from it. But I noticed the remainder of my flight was not taking anywhere near as evasive a course, so I got back in line and followed their example. I soon discovered that the AA was more bark than bite. I also soon discovered the exact opposite was true of the Hun flyers in our sector. I am not exaggerating when I say I had no clue what hit me, or from where, when the first bullets ripped through my plane. I had seen Commander Reynolds suddenly jinx off to the south and a split second later I was under attack. I pulled up hard, putting the Camel onto its back, then rolled out just as a blue-and-red Hun scout zipped past. I kicked the rudder hard and snapped my plane back around and was suddenly behind my assailant. I was leading him just about right so I let loose with a short burst of my guns and saw the tracers converge on the bright red nose of his ship. In another instance he was puffing smoke and falling in a vrille. But just as quickly another Hun was on my tail and lacing my plane from stem to stern. I fell into a vrille as well to try and shake him, but he followed my down. I could tell he had gotten a piece of my controls as the stick was very heavy. I came out of the dive heading west about fifty feet above the ground and was looking for somewhere to set down since it was all I could do to keep my Camel from plowing dirt. In short order the Hun was back again on my six and was planning on making quick work of what was left of my mount. Thought I was done for when all at once he gave up the chase, and I saw why. Commander Reynolds was returning the favors the Boche scout had sent me! As my savior sent the Hun packing I managed to put my plane down in an open field near an Allied balloon position outside of Albert. After I stopped shaking, I climbed from my plane to assess the damage and was immediately set upon by the ground crew from the balloon emplacement. They gave a hand rolling the Camel into the cover of a nearby copse of trees, to make it less of a target to Fritzie's guns. They were then kind enough to send word of my whereabouts and by late afternoon I had been given a ride back to Baizieuk.

 

That evening, in the same disenchanting mess where I'd had my first squadron meal, I approached Commander Reynolds to thank him for giving me another day on God's Green Earth. He looked up slowly from him plate of cold lamb and vegetables, and studied me for a moment with his tired gray eyes, then gave a toothy smirk and said, "No trouble. You'll do alright I suppose."

 

I intend to exceed his expectations.

 

 

Best Regards,

 

Bill

[Olham 164]

Good report, Lou - I see, you're having fun. And when this happens in future:

"I had seen Commander Reynolds suddenly jinx off to the south and a split second later I was under attack."

you will know, what it means, and react a bit faster.

[Dej 17]

Hey, more RP. Cool. I missed this first time around. Nice one, RAFL.