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Part of the Flight’s acceptance For the second Delivery of Kuwaiti ‎Eurofighter in Torino.

Hope 2023 will be a better year for Ukraine.

The flight of the "Ferris" !

Avia S-92 'Turbina' - Escuadron 211, Ejército del Aire, 1952 Skin Credit: File404

Yeah dude you have to go here: http://www.thirdwire.com And do the right thing and buy it

congratulations Mohamed send all my regards to Kuwaiti people

Heading out for patrol

This bug is fixed in version 0.1.1.

Avia S-92 Turbina - Escuadron 211, Ejército del Aire, 1952

Time 2 Go

27th October 1915 2nd Lieutentant Le Mesurier signed the last of a long stack of requisition forms and dropped them theatrically into a letter box. He looked across the squadron office to the Recording Officer, Captain Maitland, who was typing up a summary of the squadron's activities that day. It was raining again and the afternoon flights had been called off. “That consignment of dope still hasn’t arrived,” Le Mesurier observed. “If it isn’t here by lunchtime I shall take a truck to St Omer myself. How do they expect us to finish off repairs?” Mainland finished the page and released the catch on the typewriter, pulling the report out with a triumphant flourish. “Don’t forget the King's visit,” he told Le Mesurier. “Go first thing in the morning and be very nice to the quartermaster and you might be back in time.” “Good point, Le Mesurier conceded. He stood up and straightened his tunic. “And now I’ll just see if the Old Man will see me.” A look passed across the RO’s face. Whether it was concern or exasperation was unclear. “You want to ask if you can fly again? What did the doctor say?” Le Mesurier wrinkled his nose, “He wants me to build my constitution first. It was only a bout of ‘flu! I should be up there doing my part! Not sitting around here doing...sorry.” “It’s alright,” relied the RO. I'm not an airman myself, but I understand the appeal, compared to office work. You've made a real difference here keeping things running during the push, you know. The thing with the fixing fluid...” “Fixing fluid this time, barbed wire last year,” Le Mesurier waved his hand dismissively. “It isn’t what I expected when I signed up. I left the Engineers to get away from this. The pilots have largely forgotten I can fly. I overhead one describing me as a penguin yesterday.” “Penguin?” “Has wings, can’t fly.” “I hope he doesn’t call the Major that,” Maitland commented. “It would not go down well.” After lunch the next day, the officers and men of 2 squadron were assembled in parade order at the north end of the landing field at Hesdigneul. The reason for this was no secret on the squadron. Indeed it couldn’t be. Preparations for the King’s visit had gone on all morning. General Haig had arranged a specially trained horse, a chestnut mare, to carry the King during the visit. According to the attending grooms, the horse had become accustomed to lying next to a bass drum as the band practised. Everyone agreed that she was a lovely horse. His Majesty arrived by motor car, which stopped at the edge of the aerodrome field and the King mounted the horse with the assistance of General Haig. Haig’s superior, Sir John French was present and tried to help, but the King waved him away. His Majesty, the King rode forward toward the white picket rope that delineated the edge of the ‘parade ground’ that Major Becke had set out. As he approached, the men of the squadron let out a patriotic cheer. The sudden roar startled the mare, who rocketed upwards, tripping on the picket rope as she did so. In a moment the horse fell backwards and onto her rider. Men and officers ran forward. King George seemed curiously calm, Le Mesurier thought. He was wincing from the pain, but did not cry out. “Sergeant,” Le Mesurier called to Butcher, who was standing on the other side of scene. “Get this horse lifted. We need to get his Majesty free.” Men and officers (mainly NCOs actually) worked to free the King from the horse and the slippery mud. They pulled him up and headed for the car. Sir John French hovered over the King without actually doing anything productive. “Your Majesty,” he said, “we must get you back to England.” King George grunted as he was settled into the back seat. “A long journey would seem, ah, unwise, Sir John.” “The Germans, your Majesty. If they found out where you were...” but the King had had enough of French. He looked at General Haig, “tell Sir John to go to hell.” A few days later, Major Becke called Le Mesurier to his office. “There has been a meeting back at St Omer,” Becke told him. “Usual stuff mainly, but the Wing have been instructed to release our ‘superfluous clerk.’ Which would be you, Le Mesurier. You are to return to flying duties immediately. Nothing to strenuous, I’ll have you patrolling over the King’s chateau. Make sure the Hun doesn’t get near him. ‐------------------- And that’s my explanation of where Le Mesurier disappeared to. The account of the King’s accident is put together from 3 different sources. The King was definitely having problems with Sir John at this point. The quote about telling Sir John where to go really happened a few days later while King George was under sedation in the chateau. Maurice Baring records a meeting a few days later in which 1st Wing were told to release a superfluous clerk. It probably wasn’t a resting pilot though. The real reason for my absence has been sickness. If it was in the normal part of the campaign, it would only be a few weeks, rather than the months I had to account for!

Flight Lieutenant Theodore Aloysius Andrews aka 'Runt' DSC HQ Sqn 1 Wing RNAS in Flanders St. Pol-Sur-Mer Part 19 2nd March 1916 “You looked rested Runt!” Beamed Red as I walked through the door, his soft Canadian drawl speaking of the deep affection built over countless hours in the air. Nine years my senior but with a boyish twinkle in his eyes and the energy of an 18-year-old. “I feel great Red, itching to get back into the air - I know I’m a sailor but that crossing was damned rough!” I joked. It was good to be back at St. Pol-Sur-Mer. The leave had been wonderful, warm and restful. I went out and painted the town with Davies and Jefferson who are both now training as pilots in the RFC after a year of observing with us. Jefferson was singing a new song called “47 Ginger Headed Sailors”, which I earnestly tried to remember to perhaps teach it to the lads in the mess. Jefferson, bless him, even attempted to set me up with his sister Agnes a pretty nurse at St Bartholomew’s hospital in London with thick dark hair and delightful eyes. It was very kind - in a way - but I found my thoughts returning again and again to Monique. It was good to see and laugh with them both again as well as hear of their adventures in Farnham longhorns. Tamer by far than our days together in the BE2s and Moranes. It was a shame they were RFC chaps as I would love to fly with them both one day. As it is, it turns out there’s a bit of professional jealousy between the pilots of His Majesty's armed forces which I was fairly unaware of. It seems the RFC are concerned that we in the Navy are getting all the good French planes before they can get a look in and it’s causing some bad blood. However, they seem quite excited about the new DH2 and are watching 24 Squadron with great interest. The prospect of new aircraft didn’t stop them from pausing at a Royal Navy recruitment poster and defacing it with the words “Join the Navy to feel a man”. Very droll I’m sure! I also spent time with Archie and my family too - a good two weeks I am refreshed and keen once more! Breguet surrounded by thick wonderful smelling clouds of pipe smoke joined us. Rodrick ‘Breguet’ Dallas is a giant of a man and towers over me at 6ft 2 in his stocking feet, his father a labourer and miner from Queensland brought his boy up tough and big. It always surprises me when he contorts his frame and substantial weight into his Caldron, huge hands gripping the controls that look like a child's toy in his massive paws. “Good to have you back runt. It’s not been the same without you old man!” Breguet and Red stood next to each other shuffling awkwardly and looking at each other out of the corner of their eyes as if communicating some secret. “Here, have a cigarette Runt,” Red offered me his packet of ‘Players’. “No thanks Red, my breathing is better without them - what’s eating the pair of you?” “Monique…” Breguet said, teeth tightly clamping the stem of his pipe jumping. “Go on” “We have seen her at the airfield, she asked about you.” Breguet continued. “That’s nice,” I said in a clipped fashion. My stiff upper lip comes in handy now and again. “Only" he continued, "We’ve seen her chatting to a French pilot, handsome chap, flys a green Nieuport with a dagger emblem on the fuselage used to be based here, got moved on in January. Quite an ace if we remember” “I don’t see what any of this has to do with me chaps”, I wanted to get as far from this conversation as possible. “We saw the Frenchie give her money, it’s not looking good for the old girl at all” Red mused. “We all know Ackart was a toad” Breguet added “But for her to go on the game is too much.” I was silent. I nodded to my companions and left the mess, out into the chill night. Desolate. 3rd March Heavy snow and a 0940hrs patrol over enemy front lines with Red and Keeble. 30 minutes in I developed problems with my engine and had to return to St Pol-sur-Mer. A fine homecoming this! A fine homecoming! 4th March My Nieuport's engine was being repaired - hopefully fit to fly tomorrow. I caught up on paperwork- not wanting to think about Monique and what she’d become. What on Earth had happened to her and was it any of my business? I pondered hitching a lift to Dunkirk and paying the Fountaine’s at Le P'tit Dupont a visit. A request from Admiralty for a report on fighting Aviatik Cs put pay to that - I dutifully responded and tried to ease my heart with some whiskey. The snow is now thick on the ground. 5th March Nieuport was still in for repairs so missed the morning patrol. Selby, my mechanic couldn’t apologise enough, and together we worked on it. By lunchtime, the engine was purring like a cat. 1518hrs Artillery spotting with Breguet in his Cauldron between Menen and Loo. I took three new chaps up with Red. They were Thomas, Adlam and Boscawen. I thought of Tubby as guided our flight through the thick clouds and snow flurries and resolved to do better for these new boys. No HA were spotted but we did locate several Hun batteries along the Lys. I thought of Tubby as guided our flight This evening I'm too tired to contemplate a trip to the Le P'tit Dupont, but maybe it isn’t such a good idea after all. To be continued…..

Quick and dirty digital camo....

Ghost in the machine..... Good hunting !

Do you believe in Ghosts ?

Predicting...I think

feels like we need more angels...vintage angels.