Sebtoombs

As Mfair says, Thank you! Here are Theo's stats. Flight Lieutenant Theodore Aloysius Andrews (AKA 'Runt) Unit: RNAS-1 Location: St. Pol-sur-Mer Aircraft: Morane Saulnier L Hours: 62 Missions flown: 42 Victories : 5 Claims: 7 And one broken heart ...

That Archie is a pain! like the sound of Colonel Bond too ... reminds me of an officer I had back in the day! Nice writing buddy.

Lederhosen : Welcome to Enno! Hasse : Smashing picture of the Nieuport 10 C.1 now that's a beauty... --------- Flight Lieutenant Theodore Aloysius Andrews (AKA 'Runt) RNAS-1 St. Pol-sur-Mer Missions flown: 42 Hours: B.E.2c 37, Morane Saulnier 25 Claims confirmed:5 1st October 1915 HMS Indefatigable The second half of September has been a grim time! It started well with my cousin Archie joining me while on leave from HMS Indefatigable. We have always been very close, he is five years older than me, strong and athletic and seems to succeed in everything he does, whether cricket, ruby or cross country running. I remember vividly the day I skipped school to visit him at Devonport Dockyard when Indefatigable launched in 1909, my school being but a stone's throw away, The Marine Band played stirring tunes that lifted my heart, and I knew that I too would be a sailor. It thrilled my heart when I received a telegram saying he'd be with me for my birthday. He'd spent much of his career in the Mediterranean, at war with the Ottomans, so I rarely get to see him. However, since a refit in Malta, the Indefatigable has been conducting patrols in the North Sea and according to him, it's all been pretty tame. He's always been one to have itchy feet and an adventurous heart and my letters have only served to fuel that fire. It came as no surprise and with great delight that he told me that he was thinking of applying for flying training. With that in mind I took him up for a joyride in the Morane and he was utterly spellbound with the sheer beauty of the skies and the sense of being airborne. He told me he'd never felt so free or alive. Sunrise is a beautiful thing on the ground but, in the air, it is sublime. Cousin Archie and Me I had great pleasure in introducing him to Monique and we went out dancing in Dunkirk. My Leg injury means I can't dance. I always did have two left feet but a flying accident in training makes it nigh on impossible to move with any grace or fluidity. Not so with Archie, he has the grace of a cat and the timing of Big Ben. It was a positive thrill to see him and Monique dancing to the early hours with such joy and abandon. Her face was a picture glowing with joy and happiness. He left on the 14th promising to apply for flying training and I was thrilled to think we may one day fly together. As I walked back into the mess from seeing him off Ackart grabbed my arm. "A word in your 'shell-like' Runt" At school, Ackart delighted in calling me 'Squeak', I'm a year younger and much smaller - to make matters worse I had bad asthma as a child - many of the boys in school would tease me calling me 'Squeek' or 'Wheezy' Andrews. I was always ready to put up a fight but my slight size and general late development meant I was easy-meat most of the time. On joining the Royal Navy my young age and size meant I had been christened 'Runt' pretty quickly. Mostly it was said with affection as I had learnt very quickly to stand up and fight back quickly at the first sign of trouble. Archie had said in the past I was too quick to anger and much too quick to prove myself. I'd started to listen to him until Ackart rolled to the squadron. Ackart had me by the arm and was leading me towards my basher. "I saw you last night," he said in that oily way that usually meant he was up to something unpleasant. "Saw your nice young lady too, dancing away with your cousin. I understand why you've been keeping her secret - you'd hardly want her to meet a real man, would you?" He oozed "Your cousin and her make such a wonderful couple, don't you think?" He carried on. "Such a shame that she's stuck with a wounded sap like you, don't you think?" His face was contorted in mock sympathy. My blood just boiled, I was sick to the back teeth of his perverse attitude and had had quite enough of his ugly mug for one lifetime. So I punched him. A full roundhouse, coming up on the balls of my feet and putting all my 9 Stone into it. He dropped like a sack of potatoes. I left him there in the dirt out cold. I knew there would be hell to pay but I didn't care. I was out on the afternoon patrol that day, the whole flight I was thinking myself, There's going be trouble when we land. I had such a lump in my stomach, I'm surprised we could even take off! I told Davies who quietly listened to the whole story as we patrolled over allied factories over Flanders. "He's got it coming old man" He replied, "But you'll just have to take whatever's coming to you on the chin". We landed and I expected Cleaver any moment to approach and admonish. But nothing, not a dicky bird. No one said anything. I spoke to Thomson our intelligence officer, casually asking about local Hun squadrons, thinking he'd say something if he knew anything - nothing, just the uncomfortable news that more Hun monoplane scouts were amassing on their side of the lines. I saw nothing of Ackart for a couple of days, when I did finally see him he was sporting a huge black eye - which he apparently got from banging his face during a very heavy landing. "Want some steak for that?" I said smiling. He just turned away. But I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling he was up to something. The next day Davies and I were on patrol with two other chaps, being led by Red Mulock, when I spotted three spots crossing our lines and throwing up allied Archie slightly north of us. I wagged my wings and went to investigate. Sure enough, it was three Aviatiks flying southwest 1000 feet lower. I let Davies know and we flew right between them. Davies, spoilt for choice started firing at the Hun. The Aviatiks headed straight for home. "Are you up for a chase Davies", I asked a grin forming on my face. I had turned round to pursue before he'd even answered. They made due east which took them towards an observation balloon and its treaded anti-aircraft fire. The Archie was formidable and much too close for comfort. We saw one Aviatik start to smoke but each blast of anti-aircraft fire was closer than the one before. Davies spoke across the din, "This is too hot damn it, take us home" I didn't need telling twice and swung the Morane west. Archie was too hot for us In a matter of moments, there was an almighty crash, the engine housing ripped open and flew up over our heads, narrowly missing stripping the fabric off the wing. The engine ground to a noisy halt and began to self destruct before our unbelieving eyes. Both of us, from what I could see, was un-harmed but the Morane was seriously damaged. " I think I can put it down" I hissed to Davies through clenched teeth, fighting with the controls. "But it's going to be rough." We spiralled down as gently as I dared, Archie going with us the whole way. It wouldn't have taken much to swat us from the air, but our luck held, and we came to a stop behind enemy lines. Before we could think about setting fire to the Morane A german, with a square-headed helmet emerged from a hole, not 10 feet from us "Hände hoch oder ich schieße! " he shouted while pointing a gun. There was no argument we could put up and so with arms raised, we were taken into captivity. There's much I could tell you about those three days. But those memories are too grim - suffice to say we both escaped, making it back across the lines to Nieuport from there we called the squadron's telephone who quickly sent a tender for us. On arriving back at St. Pol-Sur-Mer we were treated to hot baths, delousing and gin. Thompson wanted a full report and was pretty cagey about us flying again. "If you're caught a second time you'll be shot," he said "I'm not sure you want to take your chances like that". "So we're grounded" "For a few days - 'till we get the all-clear at least." I packed a small overnight bag and hopped on a tender going to Dunkirk. There was one person I knew who would be able to put a smile on my face, who could make my worries dissolve. As I limped with my stick into the 'Le P'tit Dupont' I saw M. Fountaine standing proudly but the counter straightening his white apron a welcome in his face. I glanced around hoping to see Monique. I did. Sitting in the corner, laughing as she tucked a stray hair behind her ear. I started towards her, joy, hope, love in my heart - her memory had got me through some pretty dark days. It was then I saw who she laughed with. Simon Ackard. My world collapsed. To be continued ...