Sebtoombs

Paroni: Congrats on your first confirmed victory! Albrecht: Enjoyed your reports and the atmospheric way you write. Maeran: Super update - loved the historical detail and dislike the thought of McCudden being treated snobishly because of his background! Hassel: Hopefully the 'Spaniard's' embarrassment will work out for the advantage of his whole escadrille as he seeks to prove his worth! Trustworthykebab: Hope school goes well! ___________ Flight Lieutenant Theodore Aloysius Andrews (AKA 'Runt) RNAS-1 St. Pol-sur-Mer Missions flown: 25 B.E.2c Hours: 37 Claims confirmed:2 Claims Unconfirmed:1 26-31 July 1915 Climbing out over the Channel - Blighty lies just beyond the early morning mist The pace on the squadron has picked up over the last week of July. We have flown every day and once or twice both morning and evening patrols. It's been pretty exhausting, if I'm honest, on account of Cleaver the C.O. who has wanted us on the airfield ready to go at 4 am most days - which is bally early in you ask me. On those days I can see the advantages of Davies' silences. Early in the morning no one wants a fuss, as my father used to quote with regularity, "He that blesseth his friend with a loud voice, rising early in the morning, it shall be counted a curse to him." It's somewhere in the Bible or Shakespeare, I think, but he quoted it often enough to me as a boy that it's imprinted itself on my thinking. There's been some comings and goings in our squadron too. A couple of chaps have transferred out (There's talk of another RNAS squadron being formed) and we've had some new arrivals. Jefferson (The singer and mess piano player) who was my first observer has been attached to one such. Redford Mulock, a Canadian chap we all have taken to calling Red. He and Jefferson fill the morning air with their singing and their ofttimes bawdy songs. So it looks like I'm with Davies full time. Not that I'm complaining, he's got two good eyes and a quiet, deep temperament and I think that means a lot. He reminds me somewhat of the Harpooner in Moby Dick, a childhood favourite of mine. While sailors on the whaleboat curse and battle fiercely the foaming, crashing sea, he remains silent and watchful. The sailors labour with oars, shouting over the din of the howling wind and raging demonic depths - while he is languid, quiet and poised, waiting and watchful. I remember this sentence from the book, and it sums up Davies, "To ensure the greatest efficiency in the dart, the harpooners of this world must start to their feet out of idleness, and not from out of toil." That's good old Davies, through and through. Though I am no Captain Ahab to be sure - far too young. These early mornings have one distinct advantage - the first hour of flying is spectacular- one might even hazard, magical. Up before the lark We are not the only ones upping our flying hours. The Germans too have been more active over the last few days. At a distance, I've spotted a number of their aircraft. Much too far away to excite any interest from our flight leader, though I'm chomping at the bit. My chance came on the last day of July. Another early morning patrol over Passchendaele. We were up before the lark, or the Hun (for that matter) and spotted two Aviatiks flying West as we were flying NNW over Hunland. We were a tad over 10,000 feet, while they were in formation below us at 8000 feet. I tried to signal Mulock, who was flight leader, but either his singing was too loud or he was lost in the magic of the day, either way, I couldn't rouse him. As the planes slid beneath me, I turned with them, cut the throttle and stalked them. The sun was not very high so it was easy to keep it behind me and follow them - unseen. As they crossed onto our side they changed course, flying northwest towards Furnes and Dunkirk. I waited until they were a good way into our side and then dropped on them like an osprey. At once they began to head east, all thoughts of patrol gone. It took about 12 minutes, but with some steady flying and Davies' shooting, we shot one down. The Aviatik began streaming smoke at about 5000 feet, nosed down and crashed to earth just north of the ruins of Passchendaele. We watched their dive and circled above, with that familiar feeling of pride, and horror at what we have become. Again I prayed for the families, sweethearts and friends. I'm not a murderer, I think, but a sailor at war. I had dropped to about 3500 feet, which is far too low over Hunland - the anti-aircraft battery started as we turned west hammering the air around us with ugly puffs of death and twisted metal. We had strayed far too close to a German Observation balloon - and they weren't happy. Maybe they don't consider it sporting to attack unarmed German planes or they just didn't like the colour of our hair. But they let us have it with gusto. I put the nose up as high as I dared, and attempted to gain some height - the wind, though not strong was against us and we hung motionless in the air as 'Archie' pounded us. We took a very near miss to the fore of our craft. Fuel, oil and coolant were everywhere, streaming behind us, coating our faces. The engine groaned and shook, cluttered and spluttered angrily. I pointed the nose down and attempted to fly to safety, due west, at speed. The engine held ... just. We cleared the brown scared ground that marks the lines and I gently put our B.E.2 down. As we came to a stop the oddest thing happened. For the very first time I heard Davies's laugh. Not quietly, but uproariously, deep belly laughs teeth sowing white amidst his oily face, his eyes creased up with mirth. Our aircraft was not in such good heart. She had held me since that day in May when I first climbed in her at Gosport. I was familiar with all her ways, her quirks and foibles. Looking at her now - I couldn't imagine she would ever fly again and it seemed a miracle we had got as far as we did. Looking up in another prayer, this time of thanksgiving, I saw B flight who had circled back to Passchendaele and had spotted our battle and proud demise. They flew overhead I swear I heard singing ... "Daisy Daisy Give me your answer do ..." Later, on stepping off the tender back at St. Pol-Sur-Mer, the C.O., his proud red face glowing in the setting sun grabbed me by the arm. "Andrew's your victory was confirmed before you arrived - good show! ... And your papers came through this morning, you are prompt to Flight Lieutenant with immediate effect!" I limped to the mess an older, quieter man. To ensure the greatest efficiency in the dart, the harpooners of this world must start to their feet out of idleness, and not from out of toil.

04:30hrs 31st July 1915