Terror From the Skies
The
Homesian Method
The
pilots are motioned to sit in a loose semi-circle as the famous author joins
them.
Sir Conan Doyle sits down
before the assembled fliers and pours you all a tot of rich smelling
brandy. He eases back into the camp
chair, unbuckles his tunic and eyes you all carefully.
"Now then, you've all seen
things unexplainable, weird and strange.
I read your report to command and had it suppressed. Wouldn't do to tarnish your reputation or
scare the johnnies back home. I
represent a particular branch of the government, newly formed. Our unofficial designation is MI-13. As of now, you chaps all work for me. There are strange things afoot out there,
under the pall of this war, things that cannot be explained. That's where we come in. It's our job to stop this, I hesitate to use
the words, supernatural phenomena. As
far as we can discern, these strange occurrences are appearing piecemeal here
and there over the entire theatre of this worldwide war. We've had reports of strangeness from the
western front to the colonies."
He pours you all another drink.
"You gentlemen, are
unique. You survived. This makes you very valuable to the war
effort, we need men of sterling character and steel backbones. I've read the dispatches and interviewed
Captain Herbert, I believe you can fight and fight back against this
menace. As agents of MI-13 you will have
access to specialised weapons and resources, intelligence and contacts. I have the utmost confidence in you all. For the moment, I want you to carry on following
your duties here at Vert Galant. One of
our agents, a Mr Parkhurst will shortly be joining you. He is ostensibly a correspondent for the
Times, and will be your chief liaison to me.
He is a most resourceful man, and will be in direct contact with my
office in London.
In the meantime, I have a small
surprise for you all. As you are no
doubt aware, the press are labelling the prevalence of the Eindecker, 'the Fokker
scourge'. You men encountered and bested
a flight of them I believe. I have taken
measures to ensure the odds remain squarely in our favour. A small contingent of Airco de Havilland
aircraft await you at the RFC depot at Candas.
Captain Herbert has arranged for you gentlemen and mechanics to travel
to that place tomorrow, at dawn."
One Good
Deed
Candas
is 5 miles to the West of Vert Gallant, and is sited to be the main supply depot
for the airfield. Currently, there are
Royal Engineers and a small contingent
of sappers constructing the site, work is scheduled to be completed in
December. Up to this point in the war,
the depot has consisted of only temporary sheds and a number of Bessonneau hangars. However, contracts
were raised through the RE Works Directorate for the construction of workshops
and repair sheds, including a dope shop and carpenters’, fitters’ and sail
makers’ shops as well as four small fuselage sheds.
The
following day after breakfast, Captain Herbert true to his word has an Albion
truck waiting for the pilots with two of the base mechanics already on board
and waiting to depart.
After
an uneventful half hour journey across the battle scarred French countryside,
the pilots eventually reach the site of depot 2. Engineers are hard at work already in the
cold autumn morning, assembling the prefabricated building and stores. Before the furthermost Bessonneau hangar, a
line of brand new Airco DH 2s sit neatly.
The experimental pusher aircraft are unpainted and have crates next to
them with Lewis guns packed in grease, with drums of ammo in boxes. With a repair roll by either the pilots or
mechanics, the ordinance can be simply attached to the cockpit mounting and
loaded ready for action. As the pilots
mill around the aircraft, a Royal engineer officer approaches and salutes.
Tall,
crisp and clean shaven, Captain Baxter carries a clipboard under his arm.
"Morning chaps, lovely
morning for it, what? Name's Baxter, 3rd Lancashire, care to put your moniker
on here?"
He
hands each of the pilot's his clipboard and has them sign for the aircraft.
"Thank'ee gents, hope you
can get these things in the air sharpish, what? heard you chaps had a spot of
bother last night."
With a
smarts roll, or Knowledge (battle), the player realises that there were no
operations last night, certainly not from Vert Galant.
If
questioned further, Baxter can reveal more details.
"Some of the lads heard
explosion and machine gun fire from about 20 miles or so north of here, we
assumed you chaps had been in a scrap, Thompson over there swears he heard a
plane circling before the fighting."
If
anyone thinks to look on a map, Baxter can provide a detailed ordinance map
inside the staff office, with a navigation roll, it can be determined that the
explosions and sounds of combat came from near the village of Frévent, about 17
miles to the north.
There
is a polite knocking at the door, and a young engineer enters and salutes.
"Begging your pardon Sir,
Sergeant Armstrong asked me to speak to you.
We completely forgot Sir, Yesterday, those ambulances heading for
Calais, they was heading towards Free-vent."
Baxter
cringes as he remembers,
"Good God, that's right!
from the field hospital at Doullens, four, no, five ambulances, taking
casualties from the Northumberland's casualty clearing station. They would have passed right through that
area. Gentlemen, we're not a fighting
unit, our men are engineers not front line soldiers. D'ye think you chaps could take a look into
this? perhaps, reconnoitre?"
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