The Dawn Patrol

[SexyChele]

April 1918

Northern France

The War to end all Wars has encompassed Europe for the past 4 years. Young men eager to be heros, now want nothing more than to simply be reunited with loved ones at home. Little did those in battle know that by year's end, the Great War would be ended, and Europe changed forever.

Yet, in a tiny corner of northern France, a small military force of British and Americans in the newly developing air corps are stationed with a directive to patrol and engage enemy German airplanes. These brave airmen, the first to utilize this new invention, are adventurous and daring - constantly pushing their machines to the next challenge, and feeling the exhileration of not being tied to the ground.

Our story opens with this small group of pilots, eager to fly, but not eager to be at war anymore. This small outpost has a field hospital attached to it, and just down the road is a warm and inviting tavern. Even though these men are stationed in what would appear to be a remote place, there is plenty of female company to wile away the hours of "down time".


OOC:
The cast for our story includes:

SexyChele - Nanette, the barmaid at the local tavern
Melusine - Role undecided as of yet
Ariosto - Gerd Brenner, pilot, German air corps
Thor's Hammer - Major Thor, pilot, AEF
Claymore - Lt. Colin MacPherson, pilot, RAF
Papillon24 - Nurse

 

[Claymore]

If there's no problem with my coming on late at night, I'll take the American pilot.

 

[SexyChele]

Nanette

I am awakened by the sound of the planes as they roar overhead in the early morning hours. I glance out of the window in my tiny room, and can barely make out the planes as they begin their ascent into the sky. It seems as though the planes have always been here, yet I can remember a time when they weren't, and countryside was peaceful. Yes, many years ago.

I stretch in the slightly chill morning air and slip out of bed. Quickly washing my face with the cool water from the pitcher, I dress rather simply in a skirt and blouse. As I dress, I cannot help but notice that my body has become thinner since the war began, yet I have still maintained a pleasant, womanly shape. Going to the small oval mirror, I brush out my long auburn hair and tie it loosely back from my face. My brown eyes gaze back from a face much thinner, yet still considered pretty and I wonder how much longer this war will last. At 20, it seems as though all of Europe has been fighting most of my life.

Sighing, I wrap a shawl about my shoulders and head downstairs to help with the morning chores. Once those pilots return from their patrol, the tavern promises to be very active this evening.

 

[Thor's Hammer]

Thor - the AEF pilot

OOC: Major Thor was the executive officer of the wing. He was old for a pilot, craggy features, a tinge of grey in his hair, and those piercing blue eyes.

IC:.....tired, so tired. Another twelve hour day of patrols ahead, dogfights, strafing...will it never end? Thor was a multiple ace, with 18 black crosses on his fuselage - second only to the great Rickenbaker. The Spad was tired too. Clumsily patched holes in the fabric, oil streaks staining the cowling. It was hard to see another young German spinning to the earth in flames - but the country demanded that the Hun be defeated. The forward aerodrome at Arras was a rough haven, but it was home for the moment.

I glanced down and saw the small tavern that held many fond memories of fine French Cognac and the warm companionship that only people at war can share. The Spad climbed into the morning sun. The trenches of horror were just ahead. His wingman was on station as the flight of two climbed to 10,000' to search and destroy the hated Hun.

 

[Claymore]

I would like to offer my profound appologies to Thor for my earlier post. I greatly misunderstood what was being said to newbies such as myself about character roles. I'll try something that was suggested to me in a PM. So I'll be a Scottish pilot flying a Camel, if there's no problem there.

Edit: changed character to a Scottish pilot. He's still flying for the British Empire, just not a Brit.

 

[SexyChele]

Claymore

No, no problem at all! I'm personally looking forward to some of those dogfight scenes!

Just as long as you guys don't forget about us ladies here on the ground!

 

[Thor's Hammer]

OOC: (the last OOC of this thread, I hope) Welcome, Claymore, and no problem.

 

[Thor's Hammer]

Major Thor

...the drone of the Hispano engine was lulling. Ten thousand feet above the trenches, it was hard to imagine the horror of the war on the ground. A wisp of smoke in the distance signalled a burst of harrassing shellfire. I banked, always watching my 'six.' The sky was empty. Perhaps this dawn patrol would be uneventful. I hoped so....,

 

[Claymore]

OCC: Colin MacPherson is a Scotsman loyal to King and country. A Flight Lieutenant with the newly organized Royal Air Force, he had joined up the year before when the RAF was still the Royal Flying Corps, an arm of both the army and navy, Colin flies A Sopwith Camel.

IC: I wake up with a yawn as I hear the sounds of planes taking off. Thinking I've over slept, I sit bolt upright. Then I remember that the squadrons been given a bit of leave time today. But we'll be making up for it tomorrow. So the planes I hear are probably just the Yank squadron sharing the aerodrome with us. Sure hope them Yanks give the Hun bloody hell today.

Getting my uniform on, I think I'll go take a stroll in the nearby village today. Maybe find a means to pass the time.

 

[Claymore]

Pretty soon I find myself at a tavern all my mates in the squadron, and even several of the ranks, are always talking about. Since I haven't had anything to eat, I figure I'll see if they serve any breakfast. God, I could go for a good meal rather than the stuff I eat back at the aerodrome.

Brush a hand through my brown hair, I go in, hoping their open at this time of the day.

 

[ariosto]

Brenner

So the Baron was dead. Good. Richtoften, Richtoften always Richtoften...a matinee star...a fop...an arrogant aristocrat...a bloody bastard.
Such thoughts filled the mind of Gerd Brenner as he opened the throttle on his solid black Fokker and led his flight of the jasta to altitude for dawn patrol over the trench lines. He was still getting used to the new bird. Six of them hd come in as replacements for the DVa's. Compared to the graceful albatross the new kite had all the elegance of a barn door but somehow Brenner knew that this was his machine, that with this big brute he would match and surpass Richtoftens score of 80. After all he had only 16 more to go and a whole war to do it in.


OOC...Brenner is a stocky, hadsomely brutal man. A man of the people who served the first half of the war in the trenches and who by his own initiative and boldness managed to talk his way into the German Air Service. In a short time he became one of the leading competitors for the Red Baron's crown, with 64 kills in less than a year.
Slashing his way to a reputation as the 'Butcher' he shows no mercy and no chivalry to anyone or anything. He is utterly ruthless.

 

[Thor's Hammer]

Major Thor

.......as I led the flight of two in lazy S turns over the trenches, my head was constantly scanning the skies for the enemy. The hat in the ring symbol on my wingman's fuselage had a rather jaunty look to it. My wingman was very new - he had only been with the squadron for two weeks. I had given him strict instructions to glue himself to my wing and never go off alone. He would be easy meat for the experienced Germans flying from across the lines.

 

[SexyChele]

Nanette

Walking down the narrow stairs from my room above the tavern, I smell the aroma of sausages and fresh baked rolls. Once again, I realize how lucky I am to have this position. The owner of the tavern has a brother who is a farmer, so while most people are close to starving, we have been able to have more food than most. With that, the owner of the tavern had taken to offering meals all day, which made my days very long indeed.

Grabbing a sausage and a roll from the kitchen, I turn my attention to the taproom and begin to clean up from the previous evenings activities. My, but these soldiers could be so enthusiastic and boisterous! Yet, a smile crosses my face at some of the stories I had heard these young men tell - that seemingly grew more exagerated as the evening, and drinks, wore on. Suddenly I noticed the door open.

Watching the handsome young airman walk in, I note he is wearing the uniform of a British officer. Strange. I had not seen him before, and I had thought by now that I had met every man in both the American and British squadrons.

"Bonjour, monsieur!" I call out with a smile. "I will be right with you."

I placed the broom behind the counter, and walk over the handsome officer. Liking what I see, I put an extra sway into my walk as I approach the table.

"Do you serve breakfast here?"

I notice the accent isn't British, but has a soft, rolling sound. I believe one of the men had told me such an accent was Scottish.

"Oui, monsieur. We have sausages and fresh rolls. Eggs if you would like them, and coffee or chocolate."

I gazed into his eyes as I waited for his order.

 

[Claymore]

OOC: Day off so I'm actually on some time other than late at night. Oh, for my fellow pilots, they did have parachutes, though it seems the Germans were the only ones using them. But reading up on the Camel before falling asleep I found a Camel pilot grumble about the cockpit being so big and they didn't instal parachutes in them. So it sounds like the Allies have parachutes too. Just a little something to keep in mind in the middle of a dog fight.

IC: I watch the young lady as she walks over, noticeing the sway of her hips. God it's been so long since I've seen a woman, far longer still one this lovely. What a fool I've been hanging around the aerodrome after the missions and sleeping as much as possible. But I must remind myself not to do anything that could put us on bad grounds with the villagers. Don't care what others at the aerodrome may do, I'm going to prove myself an officer and a gentleman first. Let the villagers know we don't think their here just for our amusement. But damned if I wouldn't be all over her in a heartbeat if I were anything less than I am.

"Morning mademoiselle," I reply, hoping I haven't offended with my poor grasp of French. "Do you serve breakfast here."

A shake of her head and a "Oui" tells me I've come to the right place. She then tells me what all they serve. I'm barely listening, so mesmerized by her eyes. "Get it together Colin," I think to myself. "You haven't seen a woman since March of last year. If you don't get it together you'll be all over her."

Finally, I notice she's waiting for my order. I also notice the gentle heave of her breast with each breath she takes. I shake my head to clear it before I can order. "Uh, maybe some sausage and rolls with a little egg. Oh, and some coffee." Then I think about the fact that I still have the rest of the day off, might as well see what there is to do besides go back to the aerodrome and play cards with the mechanics. Most of em seem to be cheats anyway, but there are a few honest ones. "By the way, what's there to do around here that could take ones mind off this damn war."

 

[ariosto]

OOC...this is a rough day for me to post Thor, keep cruising till tonight and I'll be there. Check your six...

 

[melusine]

Mary Fiona Montrose

Night duty is over, and the fresh, cold air of early morning is like heaven on my face. The walk from the Field Hospital at the Abbey is long, but I savour every moment of it, exhausted though I am. The birds awakening in the woods sound just the same as those who haunt our hedgerows at home. Listening to them, I can almost believe that the world has not cracked open beneath my feet. I can almost believe that the past four years were only a terrible dream.

My name is Mary Montrose, and for two years I have served with the Voluntary Aid Detachments, or VAD, on the Western Front. They had funny names for us at the start. "Very Artful Darlings" was one. "Victim Always Dies" was another. But we have paid our dues. Up to our arms in blood and pus for twelve hours at a stretch, we have paid.

The Sisters, those qualified as nurses back home in Britain, look at us with barely disguised contempt. "Ignorant amateurs," they call us, even as we work alongside them, doing our part as they are doing theirs. Perhaps that is why I am so determined not to give in, not to give up, no matter how horrid it gets.

And sometimes it has gotten very horrid, though I try not to dwell upon it. You have to forget, each day, how many men you have seen die during the past night. You cannot think about how many will die today, or tomorrow.

Sometimes, when the hospital is quiet, I write letters home for the men who cannot write for themselves. Those with no arms or no eyes. And in many ways that is the most horrid bit of all. To see that small glimpse into the life of the man who lies mangled in the bed; to hear the name of his sweetheart, or his wife, or his children. To hear about his home. Some of them have suffered unimaginable wounds. Faces blown half away; the head a pulp so mangled that you cannot even see where to stick the feeding tube. And somewhere a woman is waiting for news...a woman maybe who kissed him once beneath a spreading apple tree in June. A woman who worshipped his body and his face. What does he think of, as the long minutes tick by, and I am waiting with the pencil poised in my hand. Would you like me to write to your wife?

I don't think the Germans are humans. There is a story going round the Hospital, about one of our boys, wounded and a prisoner, begging for water. And the German nurse pouring a cup of water onto the ground. I could never do something like that. I do not think any Englishwoman could. I tell myself it is not Christian to think such thoughts, but I cannot help myself. If I ever saw a German face to face, I think I would explode into anger. I think I would want to punish him for everything...everything.

A letter came from Paul yesterday. I wanted to laugh. It had taken three months to get to me. He was talking about our wedding again. Planning it out from the trenches. We will have marzipan cake, he said. And afterwards you will have to let me do everything I have dreamed of doing. I think I will sprinkle rose petals on the bed, and worship you like a Goddess.

What frivolous, marvellous thoughts for a man on the eve of battle. What a...horrid, unforgivable way in which to say good-bye.

http://www.mythagoria.com/VAD.jpg

 

[Claymore]

Colin MacPherson

I watch the young lady as she turns to get the order, my eyes lingering on her lovely little arse. I smack my head, trying to remind myself that I'm supposed to be a gentlemen, not some sex crazed maniac. Nothing wrong with admireing the oposite sex, just need to show some respect for them. One of the mechanics in the squadron got himself arrested by the squadron commander because he proved himself a monster when he decided to force himself on one of the villagers. Poor lass. Will have to remember to see if I can't find her and offer my profound appologies for what happened. Not that it will probably matter much. But I certainly need to keep from acting like him. Can't let these urges take over.

 

[melusine]

Mary Fiona Montrose

There is activity in the village, even this early in the morning. The tavern door is open, and an old woman is washing the steps. I give her the best smile I can manage, and she nods back at me, her toothless mouth strangely like that of a child. As I edge past her, I take her hand and fill it with berries I have found in the wood.

And have to turn away again immediately as memory washes over me.

The last weekend at The Wold with Paul. Letting him steal berries from my mouth. Letting him kiss my throat, though he stained the lace of my collar with berry-juice. "You really should let me," he said, in a whisper that was hoarse and urgent and nothing like his usual gentle way at all. "You must...we don't know what will happen. The War...."

And what I remember most is that I pushed him away. That I was "a good girl." And that Paul is dead now. That the last weekend at The Wold was the last weekend ever.

 

[Thor's Hammer]

the war

OOC: Chele, love, your PM mailbox is full and you are incognito for "regular" E-mail.....so, here is my message.

...if you hit on that young guy before Major Thor returns from defending liberty, honor, and the allied way of life I will have to kill him. ROFLMAO....damn I love it.....

<----dying laughing.....let the games begin!!!!!

 

[SexyChele]

Nanette

I watch his face as he gives his order, and notice his eyes drifting over my body. I start to smile, but quickly compose myself. Many of these young men may be dead within a few weeks, and sometimes it is best not to get too involved. Still, every once in a while one or two comes along that offer a little special company.

By now I am used to the way they look at me. I know that many think my virtue is easy as well, and it could be easy to be filled with disdain at the way hands travel when I serve wine or food. But, luckily, there have been no truly unfortunate incidents for me. Oh, a couple of girls from the village have been trifled with, and the men disciplined, causing some of the people from the village to dislike the men who have seemingly invaded our quiet little part of the world.

But for me, I have always enjoyed the company of men. Listening to their stories, secretly enjoying their attentions. And this one was no different. Handsome and an officer, I wondered why he had never been here before.

"By the way, what's there to do around here that could take ones mind off this damn war."

His question caught me by surprise. A soldier interested in our little village? I turned toward the kitchen to deliver the order to Pierre, thinking of the soldier's request. I smiled as I brought the food back, and placed it before him.

"You must forgive me, monsieur, for not answering your question. Our village is not very big, as you may know. I'm afraid unless you are interested in archetecture or book shops, there is little else other than walking in the country. It can be quite lovely this time of year. And the day promises to warm up. It must be awfully hard on all of you, being so far away from home. OH! But excuse me! My name is Nanette. And you are....?"

 

[SexyChele]

OOC: Dang, how do those things fill up so fast? They need to make our PM boxes bigger, or more accommodating, or something! Anyways, sorry all! I've done my "housecleaning". And Thor? I think you are positively giddy! And don't you know that Nanette loves all the guys!

 

[Thor's Hammer]

Major Thor

The morning sky remained empty. The sun was well up. Apparently the Hun was not going to challenge us today....I waved my hand at my young wingman, and pointed my Spad for the base. I eased the throttle back and began a gentle decent that would take us right over the small French village that lay quite near our strip. On a whim, I decided to dive toward the trenches....

As I rapidly lost altitude, I saw a German artillery piece, drawn by horses, lurching along a mile or so behind the lines. I pointed to my wingman to provide cover and I reached up and charged my twin machine guns - mounted on the cowling. I waited and then pressed the trigger bar. A trail of dust and mud pointed directly to the artillery piece. The crew dove for a ditch. The horses were hit and lunged toward the ditch, dragging the cassion behind. As I glanced back, I saw that the Hun had one less piece of artillery to bombard our lines........

I climbed to 2500', motioned to my wingman to join, and proceeded back to our field.....

 

[melusine]

Mary Fiona Montrose

The aromas drifting out from the open door of the tavern remind me that I have not tasted anything but bullybeef and brown bread for longer than I care to think about. There are a few coins in my pocket, courtesy of Aunt Lily at home. (Voluntaries are not paid, of course, unlike the Sisters). Breakfast is well within my means

Hot, new bread. Sausages. Eggs. It seems sinful to think about my stomach with Paul's letter still folded in the pocket of my grey cotten skirt. But sometimes the animal instincts just take over. Twelve hours of toil invariably lead to a raging hunger...not only for food, but for lights and company as well. For an affirmation of life. The tavern looks peaceful, normal. Over in one corner, I can see a flirtation in progress -- one of our boys, with one of the village girls, it looks like. The sight of them is somehow hopeful, like finding a seedling pushing up from between pavingstones. The War has taken so much from us. But not the fundamental desire to touch one another.

In the window I study my reflection for a moment, smoothing back a few tendrils of dark hair that have escaped from my coarse white veil. I am twenty-six years of age, and I feel as though I am a hundred. If Paul had not died, if the War were to end and we were to go back to being as we were...could we? I am not the same girl I was when we kissed each other goodbye three years ago. I know too much now. I have seen too much.

My innocence has been dipped in blood.

And yet it is morning. Birds are singing. A young man and a young woman are flirting.

I don't think she will turn him away. She knows there is not time.

 

[Claymore]

Colin MacPherson

"Lieutenant Colin MacPherson. Oh, excuse me, Flight Lieutenant," I reply offering her my hand, hoping I'm not breaching some ettiqute. "I'm flying a Camel in his Majesty's Royal Air Force. And a book shop or a walk in the country would be nice. Especially if there is someone to show me around. Been stationed with the squadron for the past several months, but I've been stupid enough to confine myself to the base. Anything that will get me away from it and this war for a few hours is greatly appreciated."

I offer her a smile, for a change not checking her out. Not that I don't want to. But her kindness is really appreciated. And that smile just seems to hold my attention.

 

[Thor's Hammer]

Major Thor

{passage of time}

Wheels up....one more patrol before nightfall. This is the third one today. My new wingman looked positively tuckered out when we landed last time. My score today is one artillery piece - and I cannot paint that on my fuselage. I led my flight of two up, up, into the burning blue. The sun was at my back....a nice change from the dawn patrol when the Hun had the advantage. I can see Arras in the distance - little more than a smudge on the horizon. The Hispano engine throbbed with power...but I had to shake off tiredness....inattention.....it has killed many pilots.