33LIMA

Hi vonOben and thanks, glad you like 'em! Here's what I'm using:

Tripehounds! There can't be many aircraft prototypes that have been looped on their maiden flight. But I do know of one that was - three times in rapid succession, a few minutes into the flight. It was the Sopwith Triplane, courtesy of the Sopwith Aviation Company's famous test pilot, Harry Hawker, who gave his name to the firm when it was effectively reconstituted to avoid a crippling tax bill, post-war. The Tripe or Tripehound, as it was known, served only with the Royal Naval Air Service and (apart from one machine) not with the Royal Flying Corps (though the Aéronavale had a few, for a while). And it equipped few squadrons, lasting longest with 'Naval 1', which was fully operational with the type in early 1917 and didn't give them up for Sopwith Camels until about November the same year. But the Tripehounds certainly made a big impression, on friend and foe alike. They say that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, and the success of the fast-climbing and highly-manouuvrable Sopwith Triplane spurred a German 'triplane craze', with many plane makers rushing to develop prototypes, of which only the famous Fokker Dr.I saw significant combat service. I don't believe the two ever met in combat but you can see them in a fairly leisurely mock dogfight in this HAFU video. The Sopwith reproduction is in the 'Black Maria' markings of ace Raymond Collishaw, leader of the famous 'black flight' of 'Naval 10'. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yDFeiknDa88 For this campaign in the Sopwiths over Flanders Fields series, I've opted to fly with pioneer Tripehound squadron 'Naval 1', starting in May 1917 for no better reason than at that stage, we've moved to la Bellevue, closer to the front - I fly my Wings over Flanders Fields missions in real time, so I appreciate the shorter transit flights! My pilot is Richard Collishaw, possibly 'Naval 10' ace Raymond's (imaginary) brother. As usual, having ticked the 'always lead' option, I'm in charge of 'B' Flight, with 'A' Flight AI-led and no 'C' Flight. My first mission is a run up to the lines to the east-north-east, responding to a ground observer report of enemy air activity in the sector. There's four of us in 'B' Flight (all with proper naval ranks, like 'Flight Sub-Lieutenant') and 'A' Flight is putting up another five Tripehounds, to assist us in an unspecified fashion. And here we are, lined up and ready to go. The dire weather of 'Bloody April', replicated in WoFF when you have 'historical weather' selected, has happily given way this early May day, to blue skies with but a scattering of small clouds. Several (but not all) 'Naval 1' Tripehounds carried the two small white bars seen on mine and some other machines in this line-up; the kites with the white fins display a variation that is common on Sopwiths. I check my controls while my 130 HP Clerget rotary engine fires into life, then it's off we go! Once well off the ground, I throttle back (which in rotaries, if I recall right, was either via a 'blip switch' which cut the ignition, or a variant which did so for some cylinders). This gives me time to admire the weather, my mount and the scenery, all of which WoFF reproduces very nicely, thanks in no small measure to Ankor's DX9 mod. A thing of the past is the exaggerated 'wide-angle lens' external view, for one thing. The view from the 'office' is just as good. You can't see it in the picture below, but it includes an animated propeller-driven pump mounted on the right-hand centre section strut. I'm glad the WoFF riggers have fitted a square pad to protect my virtual pilot's head from the breech of the Vickers Gun; it blocks the view much less than Sopwith's patent 'flattened doughnut' padded windscreen, as fitted to the WoFF Pup and Strutter. One thing I quickly find that I don't much like about my Tripehound is that she is determined to roll to the left. At all engine speeds, quite a lot of aileron deflection is needed to keep her level. This is uncomfortable in transit and will undoubtedly be awkward in combat. But there's no point dwelling on it. When the others get into 'V' formation on either side, I open her up and swing around in a climbing turn to the front. What will await us there - if anything - we will find out, soon enough. To be continued!

Thanks, guys! No, Silberpfeil, I haven't tried WoFF's 2-gun Tripehound yet! I see that Jon Guttman, in Osprey's 'Naval Aces of WW1 Part 1', says there were six of these, and that Naval 10's Collishaw got a DFW in one of them, N533, on 7 July.The extra firepower would be very welcome, but if WoFF models the real-life performance penalty, I wouldn't want to sacrifice better climb and manoeuvrability for it! Anyhow, there are no prizes for guessing which WoFF Sopwith comes next!

Back in business - briefly! Heading back into the dogfight behind and above me, the first Hun I met was the V-strutter with the black ‘S’, who, I thought, had run for it, after his friend Red Fuselage shot me off his tail. We had a quick head-on pass then he disappeared behind and began to turn. Instead of going after him, I left him, continuing to climb away, up to where my three flight-mates were scrapping with two other Huns. One of these fellows was Red Fuselage, so I singled him out for some special attention, with artillery fire, raking ground targets beyond him, providing a dramatic backdrop. But I quickly broke off, when I saw another Triplane - just visible behind the tip of my left middle plane - cutting in onto his tail. Looking around for Black ‘S’ instead, I saw the third Albatros, above me. This had the later Jasta 2 marking of a halved black and white tailplane, but the rest of him was pale blue – it was Hermann Frommherz’s ‘Blaue Maus’. Of course, this sort of information was unknown to my virtual alter ego in May 1917, but the bright colours marked the Hun out as someone who didn’t feel the need for camouflage and concealment, and perhaps therefore something of a hot shot. Or perhaps his sky colour was intended as a form of camouflage, ahead of his time! Either way, it wasn’t long before he was rolling over, to get onto my tail. He didn’t make it. Instead, another Triplane was onto him in a flash. He twisted and turned but the Sopwith easily out-manoeuvred him and hot shot or no, down he went. As I watched, the pale blue Albatros glided down and made a respectable forced landing, managing not to turn over despite the rough ground. As I returned my attention to the skies above, I came unstuck. I was evidently now over enemy territory, and low to boot, for my machine came under sustained ground fire from the trenches below. The grey pencil-lines of the tracers lanced up all around me, and for the second time, rounds whacked into my Triplane. I jinked like a hare to get out of the lines of fire, swinging around to the west as I did so. Behind me, our gunners continued to pound unseen targets amidst the enemy trenchlines. The MG fire from below soon tailed off, and I was not pursued from the air, thank goodness. No damage was visible (bullet holes aren’t, with high-resolution aircraft textures enabled, on my version of WoF) but my motor didn’t seem to be pulling so strongly any more. Confident my four comrades could handle the one or two remaining Huns - probably all the better without a disabled flight leader to worry about - I got back across into friendly territory without further incident. Preferring to avoid the risk of a forced landing if my motor packed up, I headed for a conveniently-sited friendly aerodrome just on our side of the lines, outside the shelled area. My Clerget rotary kept going and I was able to get down in one piece. Parked aircraft on WoFF airfields generally seem to be the same as the one you’re flying, regardless of what’s really based there, hence the other Tripehound in front of the hangar. The mission results screen in WoFF is one of the big improvements over previous versions of the sim, as you can see from the one below for this mission. I had shot down nothing and got few hits, so it was a rather poor show on my part. I was flying the more manoeuvrable aircraft, but the enemy all seemed to be very experienced pilots, with at three current or future aces amongst them. So I was quite glad that as a flight, we had come out on top, with no losses or casualties, and one victory credited to Maynard, one of my flight's two 'Historic Aces' (an unfortunate abbreviation in WoFF, as to the RFC it meant 'Hostile Aircraft', until replaced by 'Enemy Aircraft' about 1916). I am very new to the WoFF Triplane and I think I need a bit more experience to get the best out of her. Strangely enough, in a 'Quick mission' in the Tripehound featured below - one of Naval 10's famous 'Black Flight' - I didn't experience the pronounced tendency to roll left, so perhaps my old Saitek cyborg is due replaced at last! But having now faced off against the foremost planes and pilots Germany can put up against me and returned battered but unvanquished, I’m feeling pretty confident, and looking forward to the next scrap!

Tussles over the trenches The Hun is slightly above me as I turn into him, so I only get in a few rounds from my single Vickers Gun as he flashes overhead... ...and then goes down in a left hand turn, before pulling up level a few hundred feet below. I can see clearly his white tail and red fuselage. But he's not on his own. There are at least two Huns, probably three or more. My flight-mates are now going for the first Hun, whom the tactical Dpsilay - turned on briefly for padlocking purposes - tells me is 'Historical Ace' Paul Kemp. Rather than risk a collision by joining a conga line, I aim to swing in behind them all, and cut in on the second Hun. This fellow also has a white tail, so it looks like I'm up against Jagdstaffel 2, by now named after its first leader, the late Oswald Boelcke. Soon, we're having a merry old tussle, and I'm wishing I had tried to use the CFS3 trim keys, while I had the time, so that I had full sideways movement of my joystick, instead of having to use a fair proportion of it to counter my Tripehound's strong roll to the left. Still, I manage to outmanoeuvre the V-strutter and get in behind him. He's fast, and my single gun lacks the killing power of his twin Spandaus. But I think I've landed some hits, for he stops evading and dives away in a gentle turn. It's a bad move, for the Hun machine hasn't been invented that can out-dive a .303 round. Suddenly, the tables are turned! The Hun with the red fuselage has somehow escaped the attentions of the other Tripehounds and the first I know of it is when his rounds are whacking into my machine. In a momentary panic, I roll right and shove the nose down hard, desperate to get out of that withering fire. Meanwhile, the second Hun makes good his escape, passing underneath me and away. Von Seel I think was his name, another Historical Ace, with his own skin and individual marking in WoFF. My clumsy manoeuvre does the trick, and the red Hun is now engaged again by my flight-mates and driven off. I use the opportunity to extend from the scrap in a gentle dive to build up speed... ...then, finding that everything still seems to be working and that nothing has fallen off, I pull back up and around, to get back into the fight. I've had a close shave but am rather cross to have been thwarted in my effort to clobber the second Albatros. It's time to give that red Hun a taste of his own medicine! ...to be continued!

We find company, over the lines! Reflecting further on my Tripehound's tendency to roll left - not seen as strongly or at all in other rotary-engined sim aircraft I've flown, including the Rise of Flight Triplane - I notice that with stick central, the ailerons on both sides are somewhat depressed, which effect is visible in the picture above. I really must have a word in the ear of my rigger when I get back to la Bellevue, I decide. Looking back, I can see that the flight-mates on my right are keeping up reasonably well, as we climb towards the lines. To my left, the other two chaps are edging somewhat ahead, leading me to wonder if I had echelon formation selected, rather than 'V'. I can't change this in flight, so it'll have to do. About half-way to the lines, I see a formation of five aircraft as they emerge from under my nose, passing below and ahead of us, moving from left to right. They pay us no heed, and are not being fired upon by our own gunners, so I'm confident that they are the five machines of 'A' Flight. Where they're going, and what they intend to do when they get there, I am less sure of. We're approaching ten thousand by the time the shelled area becomes visible, ahead and right. In the pic below, you can see the little prop whizzing around on the strut-mounted generator or pump to my right. It's said that the Sopwith Triplane was evolved from the biplane Pup so that the more slender wings would give the pilot a better view, and overall, in this it succeeds quite well. We arrive at the front pretty well on track, over the town of Arras itself, which gave its name to the battle for which 'Bloody April' was fought the month before. Some buildings are still standing, but much of the town has been smashed by shellfire. Reaching the area where enemy aircraft have been reported, I see nothing of them. The skies around use seem clear, above and below. So I begin a wide turn to the right, intending to orbit the area for a while, to see if anyone else comes along to provide us with a bit of company and generally keep us entertained. As we come around, I look behind and right to check if the two fellows on that side are still keeping up. They are, but I am more interested in the more distant aircraft I can now see directly behind, and apparently coming after us. This isn't terribly friendly behaviour, I tell myself. I turn the formation around to confront him. He seems to be on his own, but he keeps on coming. In fact, it's an Albatros D.III scout. If he really is on his own, he's either very hot or very silly, taking on three of the best fighting machines we have at the front. Evidently, he hoped to catch us by suprose from behind, but though he can now see that we've spotted him, the Hun isn't deterred. Well, if he wants a scrap, that's exactly what he's going to get, very soon now. ...to be continued!

Definitely looking forward to this one getting off the ground...sorry, into the (cold) water!

Good luck, our thoughts and prayers are with you.

The Pups are coming! Jagdstaffel Boelcke Jan. 4th 1917 4.15pm Near Metz au Couture Sopwith One Seater, No. LRT 5193 Motor: 80hp le Rhone No.5187 A new type of plane, never seen before, but as wings broken, barely discernible. Pilot: Lieut. Todd killed, papers and valuables enclosed. About 4.15pm. Just after starting, we saw above us at 4000 meters altitude four planes unmolested by our artillery. As the anti-aircraft guns were not firing we took them for our own. Only when they were nearer did we notice that they were English. One of the English planes attacked us and we saw immediately that the enemy plane was superior to ours. Only because we were three against one did we detect the enemy's weak points. I managed to get behind him and shoot him down. The plane broke up whilst falling. This combat report of Manfred Freiherr von Richthofen (quoted from this site) records the Red Baron's impressions after his first encounter with the redoubtable Sopwith Pup, on of the few fighters able to take on and beat the Albatros scouts fielded by the German Jagdstaffeln. Armed with just one Vickers Gun, the Pup lacked the hitting power of the later and even more famous Camel. But its much more viceless flying characteristics and great agility made it a decent fighter. In his peerless memoir No Parachute, 46 Squadron's Arthur Gould Lee recounts one battle with the dreaded V-strutters during which his flight demonstrated the Pup's superiority at height, with the Albatrosses trying fruitlessly to climb up to the Pups, which were able to stay above the enemy and mount diving and zooming attacks with complete impunity. So this installment of Sopwiths over Flanders Fields features the Pup. And as No Parachute and its sequel Open Cockpit are probably my favourite WW1 aviation memoirs, the campaign will see me flying with AG Lee's 46 Squadron, Royal Flying Corps. My last Wings over Flanders Fields campaign with 'Forty-six' is probably this one from CA-WW1, flying the Camel. When Lee joind the squadron in France in May 1917 they were flying Pups, having recently converted to the fighter role after flying Nieuport 12 two-seaters. I have selected 'Always lead' so I fly as patrol leader not wingman and for my first mission, we draw a patrol entirely behind our own side of the lines, which would have been most unusual for the offensively-minded RFC, led by the redoubtable Brigadier General Hugh 'Boom' Trenchard. We are based at la Gorgue, near the River Lys, and are to patrol down to the airfield of Fienvillers, some miles to the south-west. I'm leading 'B' Flight with three Pups; 'A' Flight, with another four, is detailed to provide top cover. Here we all are, lined up and ready to go. My machine, nearest the camera, is in WoFF's default and rather anonymous 46 Squadron markings - as are most of the other Pups. The aircraft numbered '2' is in my flight and is flown by real-life ace Clive Brewster-Joske; 'B' flight is led by another squadron ace, Cecil 'Chaps' Marchant, flying the Pup with the yellow nose. Here's a closer view of Marchant's machine: Taking off in WoFF is a whole (less fraught) different ball-game, compared to Rise of Flight and with no aircraft more so than the Pup, which comes off the ground quickly and cleanly, like a creature keen to leave the earth and get into its natural environment. The WoFF weather can often be pretty foul but today, there's a lot of blue sky, with moderate cloud at around ten thousand feet. The bright conditions show off nicely the fine lines of WoFF's Pup, whose detail goes as far as legible 'Palmer Cord Aero Tyre' printing on the tyres. The 'office' is equally well done, with lots of wood, brass and leather in evidence. My own kite isn't as colourful as old Marchant's, but she's a nice bird. She has her roundels outlined in white, a recent addition as previously, there'd been complaints about the dark outer blue ring making the national markings hard to distinguish, against the khaki PC10 finish. Our first leg is up to the north-east, not that we need the extra distance to climb to patrol height before reaching the patrol zone. I fly the leg anyway. Despite the long second leg down to the south-west, I have plenty of time, and if I stick to the programme, there's more chance we'll end up in the same airspace as 'A' Flight. Safety in mumbers, and all that. I level off for a while to let Joske and the other pilot, Sergeant Schellden, catch up. Then we climb up, passing over la Gorgue and the Lys again on our way back down towards the airfield in whose vicinity we were to patrol. I am half expecting the skies to be empty when we get there, and to fly home cursing the staff officers who have sent us on this fool's errand. Trenchard must be on leave, otherwise he'd not have one of his squadrons swanning about in this fashion, when they could have been dominating the skies on the Hun's side of the lines. However, this time, the staff officers were right. ...to be continued!

Enemy in sight! Our three Pups, in echelon right formation, make the long climb down to the south-west, where we are to patrol for at least 20-odd minutes. I tend to ignore such timings, whether or not they may be somehow tied into the mission being nominally counted successful. However, I do like to fly in real time. WoFF doesn’t have a usable ‘warp to next encounter’ key (which I like, and use regularly, in First Eagles 2), but my aversion to dull transit flights is generally less than my dislike of time acceleration, which I avoid on anything but really long flights. Fortunately this is WW1, Western Front so even relatively long flights are bearable in real time. Especially as you could run into something at any point. At one point on this transit, a group of apparently friendly aircraft flies past; I cannot tell if it is ‘A’ Flight, but it seems unlikely as they are flying back in the direction of la Gorgue. I’m still well short of my patrol zone so do not turn aside to confirm their identity, and they quickly disappear from view. Flying on, it occurs to me that I’m still in the possibly dangerous mindset of not expecting contact with the enemy, so far behind our lines. Wait till Trenchard finds out, I’m thinking, the staff officer who has us patrolling so defensively will get a rocket! Still, I keep an eye open. There’s a haze which limits visibility of the ground and broken clouds all around. And the sun, high on our left, could hide a squadron or more in its glare. I scan as usual, but I’m hoping that this won’t be the day the Huns break the habit of a lifetime and send scouts/fighters over the lines. If anything, I am expecting to see maybe a bombing or reconnaissance mission, for us to be the hunters, not the hunted. Eventually, we reach ten thousand feet and after putting on a little more height, I level off. The skies around us remain obstinately empty, and I’m still fully expecting this party will be a washout. As we near Fienvillers, I edge to one side and look out ahead for the airfield that marks our patrol zone. Soon, we are there. And that's not all I see. At about the same level and to my left front, I notice some grey-white puffs in the sky. I watch long enough to confirm they are not cloudlets. They are bursts of friendly Archie, tracking Huns I cannot yet see. I can feel he corners of my mouth rise into a faint smile. We are going to have some sport on this mission, after all. I bank left into a wide turn calculated to bring us onto a rough interception course without stretching our formation. To my right rear, Marchant and Shellden keep up nicely. As we draw closer, I see that there are two enemies, close together, flying roughly north-eastwards. They take no hostile action and we continue to close steadily. Helpfully, Archie falls silent for now. The Huns have the look of two-seaters, DFWs probably, on a recce. It’ll be our job to ensure what whatever pictures they have taken are never seen by the enemy. Sure enough, DFW C.Vs is what they are, the nearest one flying to the left and slightly below the more distant, close enough for mutual support. As the range winds down it occurs to me that having caught the enemy, it’s rapidly becoming necessary for me to decide what I’m going to do with them. They are indeed DFWs, tI decide to attack the nearest from below and behind and, from just out of range, I settle into a curve of pursuit, pushing the nose down as I do so. At the same time I order the others to attack, hoping they will pick the second enemy. This seems to work out quite well. I slip under the tail of my target un-molested by fire from either Hun. So I pull up my nose to bring him into my sights and give him a couple of short bursts. I have yet to find a way of keeping pace below and behind a moving target while keeping my nose well up and my fixed guns on target. Either I have to nose down to avoid coming up level with him, forcing me into a series of short rollercoaster-like attacks from below and behind; or keeping him in my sights with my nose up brings me up level, directly behind him. The former is probably better tactics but the latter is what I end up doing, today. I keep shooting as I come, ready to dive down again the moment I start taking return fire from the observer. But it never comes. Some rounds whip in from my right, from the other DFW, but that soon stops – a glance reveals my two flight-mates are racing in after him. So I keep on chipping away at my target. He seems every bit as fast as I am, but suddenly, the range starts winding down, slowly at first, then faster. Pieces fly off him, but though there is still no return fire, he won’t go down. Two MGs would have made short work of him from this range, but I have only my single Vickers. I am now closing fast from dead astern, intending to blast him out of my way, but in the end, I have to break hard, which I do at the last possible second. Stupidly, I break left, but high rather than low. I'm lucky to escape a bellyful of lead. If I’d had a cricket ball, I could have hit the Hun observer right on the noggin with it as I overflew him, so close we came. The break is so violent and close that I am by no means sure I haven’t connected with him, somewhere. But looking back, I see that the Hun is now losing altitude, even as the other two Pups flash past on the tail of his leader. The realisation of how close I have come to wrecking myself shocks me, and I hold my breath until I have checked that my machine is still in one piece and answering her controls. Which she is, glad to tell, though she seems to have acquired a pronounced desire to roll to the left. Something is not quite right, but I am still in business. I come around for another pass. As I break from my second firing run, I look back and see that while my target is still there, a dark column of black smoke marks the final plunge of another aircraft. It is the leader's DFW. I come around after my own target and make another attack, again taking no return fire, but now having to avoid my companions, who are quickly turning their attentions to the second Hun. This time, I notice as I pass that his propeller has stopped turning. He is certainly heading for the lines, but it seems doubtful that he will reach them, let alone cross them back into Hun-land. My flight-mates are taking no chances, however, for they both wade in after him. This is where one really feels the lack of a general recall order in WoFF – the ‘R’ command works only after an order to attack ground targets, rather weirdly. My comrades are now taking needless risks, as well as potentially depriving their flight commander of a victory that is rightfully his. I am concerned that my worst fears have been realised, when I see a Pup falling past the surviving DFW in a vertical nose-dive. He disappears somewhere below and the more I think about what I have just seen, the more concerned I become that he is not going to pull up. I swing away, testing my machine’s controllability but ready to make an attack of my own should it prove necessary. As I turn back towards the enemy, I see that he is no longer gliding steadily earthwards, but falling like a stone, and in flames, just like the other DFW a few moments before. I orbit the scene, giving my flight the chance to close up. I see two unidentified aircraft fly over us, unengaged by Archie but too far away to confirm who they are. They’re much to high up to be Marchant and Shellden. Where have they gone? Finally, a solitary Pup appears, closing up behind me. It’s Marchant. So it seems that the nosediving Pup was Shellden, and that he’s not coming home. I decide to put down for repairs at the nearest base, rather than fly all the way back to la Gorgue in a damaged kite. I tell Marchant to make his own way home and set down at a nearby field, relaxing only after I have rolled to a stop with the motor switched off. Later, it’s confirmed that Shellden has indeed ‘gone west’. I suspect that the destruction of the second DFW came from his having collided with it. Either way, he is credited with both Huns. It’s not an outcome I’m going to argue with; at least the CO will have something positive to write in his sad little letter to the family back home. In strictly military terms, the mission’s been a success. The Huns won’t get to develop those photographs, but I’ve lost a member of my flight on my very first mission. So I’m not feeling particularly victorious. Hopefully, I’ll feel better in the morning, after a few drinks and a sing-song around the old piano, cracking out some of the songs which make light of the things that are best not dwelt upon. When you soar into the air in a Sopwith Scout And you’re scrapping with a Hun, and your gun cuts out Well, you stuff down your nose, till your plugs fall out ‘Cos you haven’t got a hope in the morning! Sung to the tune of ‘Do you ken John Peel?’ Next up – the Sopwith Triplane!

More incidents and accidents in my current Rise of Flight career Stachel’s next two missions follow what’s becoming a familiar pattern – first, a patrol west to the front, turning south to fly down the trenchlines. Then another interception in the airspace a short distance to the south-east. Both times, I used PWCG’s pilot selection screen to ensure I was leading a flight of four aircraft, with pilots I had led before. I appreciate the ability to do this in First Eagles 2 and prefer it to the random, changing flight allocations of Wings over Flanders Fields. It means I’m flying with people I can begin to identify with...and care about. I’ve chosen to bring along two inexperienced pilots and to balance that, I’m taking Hermann Fromherz in his distinctive Blaue Maus. Despite being badly injured in the crash on Friday the 13th – saved only by a pilot injury limit set inadvertently in Pat Wilson's Campaign Generator – I’ve been off duty only a couple of days, till April 15th! Evidently, Richard Stachel has the constitution of a particularly indestructible ox. By this time, the real-life Battle of Arras was in full swing, though the only sign of this in Rise of Flight is some scattered shellfire and a mantle of smoke and dust low over No-Man’s Land. The line patrol was uneventful…for a while. The first bit of excitement came when I spotted another group of aircraft to our north, as we approached the lines. I watched this lot carefully for a while, before deciding that were friendly, probably another patrol of Albatrosses like our own. The next excitement came when I saw my three flight-mates nosing up and slightly right. This was serious, the real thing. They’d spotted something, obviously! I do wish WW1 sims could come up with some way – other than on-screen aids – of letting you know a flight-mate had made a sighting. I don’t expect them to dive in front, waggle their wings and point, as per real life, but even a flash of red to simulate a warning flare, anything but just breaking formation without audible or visible warning! As I have said before, I prefer the First Eagles 2 way, where your flight won’t break formation unless attacked or ordered to. Looking up and ahead in the direction my boys were climbing, I saw three aircraft above us, on a nearly reciprocal course. As they flew overhead, I identified them as tan-coloured SPADs, a type I haven’t met before in this campaign. I gave the attack order and turned in under them, expecting them to drop onto us. But no! They just flew straight on. Perhaps they hadn’t seen us under their noses, or were put off their stride by our reaction. Anyway, around we came and went for them. One turned right, pursued by at least one Albatros; the other two banked left, moving fast, and I cut in after this pair. I slipped in behind and below the nearest SPAD but could get no closer. Speedy little devils, these SPADs. And this fellow had enough sense to hold onto his height. So, I had to go up to his level, which of course extended the range. This is where the firepower of two machine-guns can come in handy. I let the revs build up again after my climb - Rise of Flight is I think the only WW1 sim which links your rate of fire to your revolutions per minite - and cut loose. I hoped either to hit, damage and slow him, or to cause him to make a turn which I could cut across. He opted to make the turn, so I opted to cut inside it. A few more bursts did the trick. The Englishman rolled over and fell earthwards in a steep dive, trailing light grey smoke. I didn't dally to watch him crash, but something about the fixed, inexorable way he was going down told me that this was the end for him. Behind and below me, the party was still in full swing. And our flak had joined in, just to make it that bit more interesting for all concerned. I was wary of joining in a general melée for fear of a collision, so, as is my wont, I orbited above, waiting for an opportunity. This duly presented itself in the most common form: an enemy broke away from the fight. So I rolled over... ...and came down after him at full power... The speed built up in my dive enabled me to catch him up quickly. He was probably damaged, for he was flying straight and level. But this was no time for restraint or any misplaced sense of chivalry. I closed right in and blasted him, throttling back to stay in position. He just kept going so I just kept blasting him. He wasn’t taking any evasive action at all, but he wasn’t going down, either. He just sat there in front and soaked up my bullets. This was taking much too long. A look behind confirmed my tail was clear so I resumed shooting, shaking my head at my expenditure of ammunition on this one target, but unable to think of anything cleverer to do. At long last, the SPAD's prop spun to a stop. That'll do, I decided, more from a desire to preseve what rounds I had left, than from any finer feelings for my foe. I last saw him gliding west, slowly losing height...very slowly. It occurred to me that he might well reach his own side of the lines, but for now, I was more concerned to see how my flight was getting on. 'Quite well, thank you very much', was the answer to that. If anyone was annoyed at me (probably) finishing off the SPAD that someone else had damaged in the earlier scrap, they didn't show it. They were too busy chasing the last SPAD back over the lines. As I watched, one of them had a crack at him from astern, then pulled up leaving the SPAD trailing black smoke as well as white - but still flying, wings level, and apaprently maintaining height. I was pretty confident that Englishman wasnt going to make it home either, but I still gave him a long burst for good measure, before breaking off too. By now, we were well into No-Man's Land so rather than risk straying onto the enemy's side of the lines, I turned back east and ordered a recall. The others were soon wheeling around after me. And they were all there! I love bringing back all my people at the end of the mission. If we have managed to knock down some of the other side, so much the better. The RoF mission end screen credited me with two victories, so that is what I claimed in PWCG. However, the map debriefing gave me all three SPADs shot down! They must have been from either 19 or 23 Squadrons, which were the only RFC units in France to operate this type. Meanwhile, the news was bad for the French Army... ...but rather good for Richard Stachel, who is now the second highest scorer in Jasta Boelcke; although in private, even Satchel isn't convinced that his real score should be quite so high. Anyhow, to cap it all, Stachel now has another 'gong' to add to his collection. No, not the Blue Max, not yet, but the Order of the House of Hohenzollern. But as Richard is about to be reminded, you have to watch these aggressive English fliers; just when you think you have their measure, you learn that life isn't always so simple... ...to be continued!

Stachel -vs- the scenery The next mission was an interception, and like the last such sortie, we had to catch unspecified enemy aircraft reported to be operating in the airspace over a large wood to the south east. Again leading four aircraft... ...I was soon up, up... ...and away, doubling back over Pronville as I went. I still find take-offs in Rise of Flight to be rather challenging, more than they should be in real life, I'm inclined to think. Swing in particular seems overdone; roll-axis wobble is possibly somewhat overdone, too. Still, if you're not worried about whether or not you leave the ground pointing close to the direction you started in, it's not too bad. I was still short of our assigned zone when a routine glance back at my formation revealed it was no longer there – it had dissolved into a dogfight, accompanied by some black German flak bursts. None of this could be heard above the noise of slipstream and motor. But having learned that this is how Rise of Flight (like Wings over Flanders Fields) works, I know to look back and check my flight regularly, since their actions can often be the first sign that the enemy has showed up. As I turned, one of the enemy raced in behind me. I had to convert my right turn into a hard break, to avoid being shot down! He was a dark-coloured RFC Nieuport, flown with a lot more verve and aggression than the SPADs we had met in the last mission. I had to use the vertical to stay out of his sights and try to get mine onto him. In so doing, I managed to get in several bursts, with results that were unobserved, as the saying goes. During one such attack I was hit from astern by rounds from another Nieuport, forcing me to break again. At least, I hope it was a Nieuport. I don’t know how many Englishmen there were altogether, but there were aircraft diving and rolling all around and I was more worried about a collision than being shot down, as the dogfight rapidly descended towards ground level. Another Nieuport flashed across my nose and disappeared, pursued by a burst I managed to squeeze off. Again, results were unobserved. I stayed above the melée as it descended and as I watched, saw a Nieuport which was engaged with two comrades break up and crash into a field. I then rolled down onto another Englishman who had slipped out to one side, determined to get in a shot before pulling back up. He twisted around underneath me and I rolled hard around after him, nose down and throttle wide. Suddenly, there was a crashing, cracking sound and I eased off on the controls, to which I instantly realised my machine was reacting sloppily. Aborting my attack, I pulled up and away from the Nieuport. Fortunately, the speed I had built up on the way down carried me away from him before he could get in a shot at me. The cause of my troubles wasn’t hard to see – my left aileron was gone and the upper wing damaged, with the flying wires missing on that side. Structural failure after battle damage, I suspected. Regardless, it was time to go home. Struggling to level my wings and keep them there, I rolled out into a shallow climb and then crabbed around to the north, and home. An anxious glance behind revealed the turning fight still in full swing, but nobody coming after me – thank goodness! Looking up, I could see a pair of evidently enemy aircraft high above, sailing across the blue sky. Two-seaters on a recce mission, probably. I was very tempted to try to climb up after them, but in my present circumstances, I decided instead that today, discretion was the better part of valour. I had another scary moment when first one, then a second aircraft could be seen, closing slowly on me from astern. I soon recognised then as Albatrosses and without waiting to see if the third comrade was also rejoining, I returned my attention to my own predicament. By now I was quite low, and with that large wood directly underneath me, not close to a suitable site for a forced landing. At least the wing didn’t seem minded to collapse altogether. But I decided I had better come down. I remembered, on the way here, noticing a friendly airfield nestling against this wood, and I looked around for it, rather than come down in a field. But I could see no sign of the base. I finally spotted the airfield over to my right front, from this height looking further away from the wood than I remembered it to be. As it passed, I started a wide, gently-banked turn, calculated to bring me in on an approach from the north-west. Settling back down and working the controls to keep the wings level, I began a long, flat and rather fast approach. As I came in, I was rather disconcerted to see a fellow manning an AA machine gun right in the middle of the airfield. As if it's not bad enough, that they have this nasty habit of stacking stores in front of the hangars! I was even more put off when the gunner swung the MG my direction. It was only for a second, but thus distracted, I landed rather long and fast, avoiding the fellow by a whisker. I knew immediately this wasn’t an especially clever way to land, but I was more afraid of screwing up a go around. So, choosing the lesser of two evils as we must, I just put her down. Rolling fast toward the treeline beyond the landing field, I tried to push the tailskid onto the grass for braking. But so fast was I still moving that pulling the nose up just caused my machine to lift back off the ground, before touching earth again. A crash was now inevitable and with a short crunching sound, I duly piled into the trees and jerked to a halt. That's two machines cracked up, now. At this rate, Satchel will soon be an ace in the enemy air force, as well! The map debriefing spoke of a rather confused encounter, with flak and a stray Sopwith Strutter getting in on the act... Once again, the Pat Wilson's Campaign Generator mission debrief credited me with one more victory than I had noticed in the RoF mission completion screen, even though I only claimed one Nieuport in PWCG (before seeing the PWCG map debrief). Another positive is that we have lost no pilots – or machines, apart from my own. The net result is that Stachel, rightly or wrongly, is now credited with 18 victories, tantalisingly close to the 20 reputedly needed for the award of the coveted Pour le Mérite. So far as Bloody April itself is going, 'bloody' it is certainly proving. But the RFC’s fighting aeroplanes are doing a good job of keeping our own machines heavily occupied, even though they are paying a high price. It’s their working aeroplanes we need to be shooting down - the ones that are taking the photographs, directing the artillery fire, or attacking our troops. Like the two machines I had seen slipping past above us, while we were occupied with the Nieuports down below. But the aggressive patrolling of the Englishmen isn’t giving us much of an opportunity to be choosy about our targets. Stachel is beginning to realise that there is more to winning an air battle than shooting down the enemy in single combat, and more to being a successful fighting pilot than winning the 'Blue Max'…

The famous aviation pioneer's aircraft come to life in Wings over Flanders Fields! In between reporting on my current career in a certain other WW1 sim, I decided I would add a bit of variety within the same wire-and-fabric theme. So this is the first of what will be a series of reports on single player campaign missions flown in Wings over Flanders Fields in the aircraft of T.O.M. Sopwith. Thomas Octave Murdoch Sopwith was one of the shining stars of early British aviation. Nearly everyone has heard of the Sopwith Camel, but as most aviation-minded people know, this was just one of the many great designs he's associated with. Many of these were mainstays of the British war effort in WW1, and consequently feature in most air combat simulators of that period. As well as the One-and-a-half Strutter illustrated at the start of this thread, WoFF features the following Sopwith aircraft: Single seat Strutter bomber: Pup: Triplane (including a non-standard, two-gun version): Camel: Snipe: ...and a Snipe the right way up: So, we have a good deal of ground - or should that be, air? - to cover. Let's make a start with the Sopwith One-and-a-half Strutter, so called apparently because each set of centre-section struts consisted of one short and one long strut. The campaign This first report features two missions in what turned out to be a brief campaign flying two-seat Strutters with 45 Squadron, Royal Flying Corps. This is the unit featured in Norman Macmillan's war memoir Into the Blue, which was the inspiration for parallel Strutter campaigns flown in First Eagles 2 and WoFF's predecessor Over Flanders Fields, which you can read about here. The Strutter is now also available in Rise of Flight, but that's a plane I don't yet have, in that sim. I elected to start in April 1917, at the time of the lowest period in the RFC's fortunes. The previous year, it had been very different. The Strutter had helped to cement the air superiority gained, in time for the famous Battle of the Somme, after the Fokker Scourge had been weathered then countered. Even allowing for the use of crude speaking tubes, the Strutter's pilot and observer sat rather far apart for effective co-ordination. But they had a machine gun each, including a Vickers synchronised to fire through the propeller arc. And the observer sat in the rear, where his Lewis Gun had a much better field of fire than in the Royal Aircraft Factory's BE.2. WW1 British aircraft procurement policy is worth a book or two in its own right, but the Sopwith design seems so much more effective as a combat aeroplane that it's hard to understand why the RFC persevered with the BE types. Some say there was an antipathy against private companies rather than the state-owned Factory, others that it was more a case of ordering whatever could be built in sufficient numbers, or a failure to understand, anticipate or react quickly enough to front-line requirements. The Admiralty seemed to have had less difficulties or hang-ups in this field and it was the Royal Naval Air Service that really saw the benefits of Sopwiths designs and placed its orders accordingly. The Army's RFC also got Strutters, though by the time of this campaign, they were - if still superior to the BEs - highly vulnerable to the new, powerful, twin-gunned German scouts. Despite this, Strutter sqaudrons were still expected to escort their own reconnaisance missions, and often flew the same sort of patrols as the single seat fighters, then called 'scouts'. It is into these difficult and dangerous times that I have plunged my virtual crew for this campaign. The first mission At this point in the war, 45 Squadron is based at St Marie Cappel, well north of the Battle of Arras but not immune to the same dangers faced down there. We are quite a way behind the lines. Checking the squadron orders for the day, I find that my first mission is to be a patrol up to the lines near Ypres, or 'Wipers' as the Tommies called it. I'm in 'B' Flight and there's just us and one other crew on this show. Four machines in 'A' Flight are said to be flying 'top cover' but in the cloudy conditions, maintaining touch will be next to impossible. I feel anxious about this but there's nothing I can do but start up, check my controls and take off; if I sit here any longer I will just 'get the wind up'. The chaps in 'A' Flight seem less bothered and get off ahead of us. I'm soon off after them and climbing up. One nice thing about the Strutter is that she's got a decent set of instruments, though I won't be spending too much time looking at them on this flight. As you can see, our aircraft are in clear doped linen finish, apart from khaki PC10 on the upper wings and rather colourful tailplanes, the latter excellent for mutual identification but compromising our camouflage rather badly. You can also see that our Lewis Guns are fitted onto French-designed Etevé mounts, rather than the more common and later universal Scarff gun rings. Here's the in-flight map, with the little green aircraft icon showing our position on the first leg of our route up to the front, to the east. Our assigned altitude is, if I recall right, about 11,000 feet but I am reserving the right to vary that according to the conditions, most notably the weather. The second Strutter is keeping formation nicely as we make the long climb to the east. Up ahead and all around, there are impressive banks of cloud, and between this and the general gloom, visibility of the ground doesn't extend very far in any direction, even at this low level. If my trusty observer is bothered by this, or by the force of the slipstream against his back, he keeps it to himself. We may have worse things to worry about, soon enough. ...to be continued!

Great work Daskal, have been looking forward to this (and maybe a PPx update of Britpack too, some day). Looking at all the videos, one other thing that it would be good to improve is to reduce the way tanks wobble as they move, in a very sudden, jerky way. Smoothing or damping this out, would make movement look a lot more realistic. Aldo had produced an experimental file which did this, IIRC http://pedg.yuku.com/reply/12574/PE3Ostpak-update-with-PP2X#reply-12574

Thanks dogfighter, glad you liked it! Yes, the current WoFF visuals do not leave much to be desired, the latest Ankor DX9 mod making a great contribution, as others have said. And the historical skins pack, featuring over 4500 aircraft textures, is now free and also makes a big difference, with both mods at work in this pic of a Pup in the markings of 46 Squadron, which will feature in the next 'Sopwiths over Flanders Fields': Before leaving the Strutter campaign, here's how my pilot's logbook (first pages only shown) ended up. The first mission was unlisted because I crashed cfs3, but I got credited with two kills, the Rumpler from the first one and the Albatros from the second. And I got a medal, the Military Cross, as well! It's a sad and premature end to what had been a promising career, all down to carelessness on my own part. Looking forward to seeing if I can do better on Pups!

End of the line! My flight spirals earthwards and looking down and left, I can see a fight is developing with another Albatros, near the enemy airfield. I stay above and watch. There are at least two Sopwiths down there; I can't see any sign of the others. But the Hun gives them the slip and manages to speed away. So I decide it's time to intervene, and drop down onto the enemy's tail. My first burst doesn't succeed in knocking him down so I use the speed accumulated in my dive to pull back up, rolling right as I do so, to keep him in sight. As we go by him, my observer has a crack at the Hun, too. My Strutter is proving itself a decent fighting aeroplane and there are times when it helps to have a sting in the tail, too. I bank around for another go, as the Albatros slides past below us. Once again, my single Vickers isn't quite up to the task of knocking him down in a single pass. The Hun turns and flies over the airfield. I am fired at from the ground, machinegun fire from the airfield. I am suddenly conscious that shooting down this beggar isn't the only thing I need to worry about. It's too late to do much about those ground MGs this time so I can only hope to weather their storm, which we do. Then I drop in behind the Hun and once more let him have it... ...and once more, break away, low this time, leaving the Hun still flying, though his airspeed seems to be falling off. This is where it all begins to go pear-shaped. I find that my turn has taken me back over that bally airfield. Again I am fired on, and this time I'm hit, but not seriously. Despite its location within range of our guns, it seems to be fully operational. These Huns have some cheek! The good news is that the Albatros succumbs to the damage, nosing down in what looks an attempt at a forced landing. He flops onto the ground, rolls into a row of shattered trees, then flips over. That will do nicely! I ignore the Archie which I now realise is bursting nearby and swing around, watching out for that pesky airfield and its MGs. This is where I really come unstuck. I am fully aware that I have been spending an unhealthy amount of time at low level chasing this Hun, often under ground fire. I also know that I have become target fixated, relying on the fact that at least two other Strutters are in the vicinity and hopefully keeping any other Huns occupied. But not all of them. One Albatros has slipped onto my tail and the first I know of it is when his rounds are whacking into my machine. My observer seems to be as surprised as I am and doesn't return fire; I think he is wounded. I bank left and head for home. Ahead lines No-Man's Land, looking all the more unfriendly from the fierce artillery barrage that is now landing between me and safety. As if I didn't have enough troubles! Next moment, blood spatters my goggles as I am hit. I can sense our forward momentum fading as the engine loses power. What's worse, my efforts to level the wings are ineffective as the ground comes up to meet us. I desperately work the stick and rudder and just about manage to prevent the bus rolling interved by crossing the controls. My right wingtip fractures as it dips into the ground, but somehow we don't cartwheel. Instead, I get the wings level at the last moment. We flop onto the ground and roll to a stop. With this force landing behind enemy lines, I know that for me and my observer, the war is over. But we are to be spared the indignity of a Prisoner of War camp. Both of us are mortally wounded. I feel the sadness, that we made it down, only to end thus. A common enough outcome, shared by von Richthofen's first victims, Lieutenants Morris and Rees, in September 1916, and indeed by the Red Baron himself, who is reported to have died immediately after force landing his triplane in April 1918. The first RFC pilot to arrive in France in August 1914, the irrepressible Hubert 'HK' Harvey-Kelly, said to be 'mad as a hawk', died three days after being shot down in his SPAD 7 by the Red Baron's Jasta 11, along with two flight mates fron 19 Squadron, Applin (killed by von Richthofen) and Hamilton (shot down by Manfred's brother, Lothar, but surviving). Like 'HK', my pilot and observer have become victims of Bloody April. I'm disappointed that my own lack of caution ended a career I was relishing, but I took a chance I knew better than to take, and paid the price. Still, I have learned to appreciate WoFF's Strutter, which has made a worthy start to 'Sopwiths over Flander's Fields'. Next up, will be the aircraft it is said to have 'pupped'.

The original pic above is in the Harleyford book 'von Richthofen and the Flying Circus' by Heinz Nowarra and Kimbrough S Brown, dating from 1958. The caption reads: 'von Richthofen and Moritz. After von Richthofen was killed, Moritz was looked after by Leutnant Gerstenberg on whose farm he died years afterwards of old age.'

Trouble...with a capital 'A'... My second mission is similar to the first: consistent with my 'new arrival' status, I find that I am to lead another patrol up to the front lines, commonly known, for obvious enough reasons, as a line patrol; Norman Macmillan in Into the Blue lists the other types of patrols flown by 45 Squadron's Strutters in Spring 1917 as defensive patrols (flown up to about 4 miles beyond the lines) and offenvive patrols (10-12 miles into enemy territory). One difference is that it's raining, as we leave St Marie Cappel behind. Another rather more important difference is that I have been allocated a nicely beefed up 'B' Flight, with five aircraft, compared to the usual three or four for a one-flight patrol. I am unable to choose with whom I fly, but I try to be clever by selecting at least our formation, which I can do. This comes somewhat unstuck, because I choose echelon right, forgetting that in WoFF, this sandwiches me somewhat uncomfortably in the middle of our five aircraft, and not as I had intended, on the left. After the long haul to the east through thick weather, we find ourselves over the shelled area at a point where it's crossed by a river, which makes a nice landmark. We'll soon be at our designated patrol point, from which our next move will be up to me. The general idea seems to be that we will orbit the vicinity, perhaps flying up and down the lines a little way in either direction. We'll want to watch out for any Hun 'working aeroplanes' who have come out to take photographs or direct artillery fire, despite the poor visibility. And of course for his own scouts, free-booting in search of some easy victims. From this point on, I'm very conscious that the enemy could appear at any time. The first sign that the Huns have in fact appeared comes when I see my neat formation unravel. It's like that scene from The Blue Max where first Stachel, then the others, leave Heidemann, their leader, to attack the enemy, breaking formation contrary to orders. Except that in the movie, Stachel at least does Heidemann the professional courtesy of point out the sighting, first. With no radios, and with on-screen aids turned off, flight-mates indicating sightings to the leader is one routine action that I don't think any WW1 flightsim has cracked. The glare of a red flare would be better than nothing, but at the moment, nothing's what we've got. Except for those on-screen aids. Turning on the Tactical Display, I see a red enemy aircraft icon behind, evidently being engaged by the others. By the time I have come about, the Hun seems to have disappeared somewhere, presumably below or into the clouds which are banked up on all sides. All I can see are three aircraft which I think are Strutters, off to my right. Black shellbursts show that Archie thinks they are Strutters too, and has decided to enter the fray. But the German gunners down below seem well off target and the rate of fire is rather desultory, as if they can't wait to get back out of the rain and into a nice warm dugout or billet. Looking down, I am surprised to see what may be the source of this Archie, an airfield right at the margin of the shelled area, where no airfield - no operational airfield, anyway - should really be. No point setting up a lot of planes, personnel and facilities where the gunners can readily blow them to oblivion. Looking up, towards a rare patch of blue sky, I see a single aircraft which doesn't look like a Strutter. Because he isn't one. He's a big fat Hun, an Albatros D.II in fact. Not the latest V-strutted model, but with two machine guns and plenty of ammo, he's trouble with a capital 'A', all right. And from the way he seems to be banking around to watch me, I get the impression that it is I, for whom he intends to make the trouble. Sure enough, down he comes... ...but 'B' Flight has no intention of allowing this nasty man to snap up their leader. They cut across and drive him off. Bravo! They catch him up, box him in and down he goes, leaving behind a slim trail of dark smoke. It's a good start! But I know that where there is one Hun, there's likely to be at least another. We're not done here yet. ...to be continued!

Not sure what 1.9e is but AFAIK these are still the current patching instructions for both BHAH and HiTR: http://www.overflandersfields.com/previous.html As for running WoFF, I have an old 2.33 Quad Core, dated RAM and a 1Gb GTS 250 and even with the previous 512Mb 8800GT, I could and can run WoFF at pretty high graphics settings with acceptable smoothness and FPS (tho I rarely play both late war and busy fronts, which might be different). So I would not rule out WoFF being able to run on an older box. WoFF is streets ahead of OFF in every respect. Either way, good hunting!

The chase is on! Had the Rumplers been higher, I expect they would easily have eluded us. As it is, and as the chase develops, it is very quickly obvious that there is no way we can overhaul them, as well as reaching their level. They are flying south, deeper into our territory, so I gain height and let them draw away. The plan is, keep them in sight, keep climbing, and hope to be high enough to catch them when they turn for home. The other Strutter has no difficulty staying with me, and I consider cutting him lose with an order to attack. But no, I'll keep my small force concentrated, and stake everything on the one roll of the dice that's all we're likely to get...if fortune smiles upon us. After a long tail chase, I can see that we're slowly getting close to the Rumplers' level. At about this time, our gunners down below decide they'll have a crack. The grey-white bursts fall behind the two Huns, but not so far behind as to threaten us, happily. We continue to climb, biding our time. Softlee, softlee, catchee monkee... The Archie stops, and we are still a few hundred feet too low when the Rumplers turn right for home. I bank right to cut across their turn, gently so as to be able to continue to climb. You can just about see the Huns in the picture below, roughly under the 'X' made by my right-hand interplane bracing wires.... ...while in the next picture, taken looking back from one of the Rumplers, our two Strutters are the specks in the centre of the image. As the enemy machines settle onto their return course, the best I can do is fall in behind them. I have closed in quite a bit but am still below, and out of effective range. My observer is champing at the bit but he can't bring his Lewis to bear. Soon, he gives up, and turns his back to the slipstream again. This gives me an idea. I push my nose down to gain airspeed. Accepting the height loss, if I can get far enough below the nearest Rumpler, I hope my observer can fire upwards, into the enemy's belly. This seems to be going well for a time. Under the Rumpler's tail, we are in his observer's blind spot, and while his comrade can see us, we are not fired upon, probably because the range is a little long. But I can only dive so far, before I'm falling too far below the Rumpler. And as I pull up again, the loss of speed prevents me from bringing the enemy into my observer's field of fire. Time to try something different! I nose down again to pick up speed once more, then pull up, intending to 'warm his hide with my Vickers', as Biggles put it. As my speed falls up he draws ahead, naturally. By the time he's in my sights, the Hun is also at pretty extreme range. This could be the last chance I get, so I start shooting, adjusting my aim from the tracer smoke trails in between bursts. The Rumpler draws steadily ahead. I keep shooting, burst after burst. Finally, my gun packs in. The stoppage drill doesn't re-start the weapon so I'm probably out of rounds, already; either that, or the stoppage is one that can't be cleared in the air. I have nothing to lose now, so I push down the nose again in a final effort to give my observer a crack at him. By this time, I have, inexcusably, forgotten about my flight-mate, who is still dutifully keeping formation. I don't know why, but this time, it works! I hear the rattle of the Lewis as the observer opens up. I can see the enemy's counterpart, seemingly looking down at us, but he doesn't fire, perhaps because we are below his arc of fire. Taking no chances, I slide to the right to get underneath him. But then, we are thwarted again, as the Rumplers suddenly turn off to the left... ..but unaccountably, instead of making good their escape, they reverse their turn and we converge. Perhaps they have decided that attack is the best form of defence. We're still a bit low, but now, my observer gets another crack at the enemy. With my Vickers silent, all I can do is watch and cross my fingers. Well, with WoFF, I could have switched to the observer's position and hoped my AI pilot wouldn't do anything silly, but I decide to sit where I am, in the driving seat, as it were. Got him! The Rumpler's lower left wing is shot off! He flies on for a little while - really, both wings should have collapsed at the same time - but then he rolls over and dives headlong to earth, with that left upper wing continuing to defy the laws of physics. I now find myself next to the second Rumpler, and our observers trade rounds. I finally remember that I have another Strutter which could assist me in despatching the second Hun, but before I can act, perhaps anticipating my next move, the Rumpler rolls left and dives hard away, disappearing somewhere under my tail. Has the Rumpler made an escape, or has he, too, fallen to my observer's fire? Either way, I am reluctant to be drawn into losing the height I have so painfully gained, and lose sight of the second enemy in the gloom below. Contemplating my next move, I rule out diving down to check on the fate or whereabouts of the Rumplers, one of which is definitely kaput. I also rule out continuing with the patrol, citing my useless Vickers and my observer's significant expenditure of ammunition. Realising what that leaves me with, I check my position on the map. Finding that the pursuit and combat has left me closer to home than at the start and well short of the lines, seals my decision. I lead my flight-mate back to St Marie Cappel. I never did find out what happened, for sure. Alt-tabbing out to check my screenshots were saving, CFS3.exe crashed, leaving me able to exit the flight normally in WoFF, but unable to get to the debrief. Oh well, I know what happened, and even though my victory (or victories) will never be confirmed, to adapt that well-known line from The Blue Max, I have the great satisfaction of knowing that I have served King and Country. The second mission was to be more dramatic, but this time, I would make a decision which would crash more than a program. ...to be continued!

Strutters -vs- Rumplers We have not gone very far, nor climbed terribly high, when we spot the enemy. I fly with aircraft labels turned off - or more accurately, set to 'dot mode' with a 4,000 yard range, so that I can see other planes at that distance as specks, somewhat further away than they can otherwise be seen in WoFF, but still at a realistic spotting distance. As a habit from flying CFS3, in WoFF I also turn on the Tactical Display (or 'TAC') only at intervals, just to check my heading to the next waypoint (saving me the hassle of realistic navigation). To prevent this acting like an AWACS radar display, I have set the TAC's range to 1.1 miles. When I turn it on, should the TAC happen to display an enemy aircraft, well to me, that's fair enough - compensation for the huge limits of 'MonitorVision'. I rationalise this as myself - or in this case, my observer - or a flight-mate, making the sighting via routine scanning. After all, except in lone wolf missions, you have other friendly eyes watching the skies, as well as your own. It is in this fashion - and still well on our own side of the lines - that to my surprise, I see two red enemy aircraft icons on the TAC, during one such navigational check. They are ahead and above us, well above. 'B' Flight has been no-where in sight for some time, so whatever happens next, will be down to me. I have a mission to perform, and its location is well to the east. But the enemy is here, now. And I feel that I must do something about it, rather than carry on with the mission. So far on our side of the lines, this is most likely a reconnaisance mission, less likely a bombing attack. Either way, it will be something that it is worth my time attempting to stop, while I can. I swing around in a wide spiral towards the Huns, climbing as hard as I am able. Looking up through my Strutter's transparent centre section, I can see them fairly clearly. They seem to be rather slender machines, confirming my belief that they are two-seaters on a recce, and not scouts. Not that enemy single-seaters should be this far into our territory, but I'm comforted nevertheless that we are not about to be dived on. These fellows will have photographs to take and then get back to their side with. In fact, the Germans are in Rumplers, famous in 1917-18 as fast, high-flying photo recce machines, with later versions being able to operate at heights where few if any enemy aircraft could catch them. These planes are the earlier C.IV version, pretty well brand new in April 1917, but still a handful for a Strutter. Though this pair is well under 10,000 feet, their height advantage alone makes me doubtful if we can catch them. But the effort must be made! ...to be continued!

Verner Voss's Albatros D.III... RNAS Sopwith Pups... Jasta 11 Fokker Dr.I... Albatros D.II chasing down an R.E.8...