Wednesday, 4 December 2024

Triumph 955i fuel injector O-ring research

Tiger's still not working (see previous post). Here's my best guess: the new fuel pump has caused the old O-rings in the fuel line to leak causing a vacuum leak, so I'm digging for new O-rings, but of course Triumph doesn't sell them anymore and seems to go out of their way to not tell you what size they are. Wouldn't it be nice if a manufacture who don't support their bikes after only 20 years at least open sourced the specs so the aftermarket could pick them up?

Anyway, off to the internet I go to research! Here are the notes:

https://www.thetriumphforum.com/threads/triumph-2003-955i-cutting-out-when-throttle-blipped.27324/page-3

"There is a O ring on the Tps (throttle position sensor) that gets worn and swells causing a voltage delay when closing the throttle causing the incorrect signal to the ECU.

Cure? Simply remove this O ring haha, So i did this last night and took her for a test ride this morning whilst picking up some essentials. BINGO!"


Part 23 = T3600053 | O ring
Part 4 = Throttle potentiometer Part Number: T1290500 - but it doesn't look like it has an O-ring involved in it, so that advice is suspect.

12 = O ring. Rail, Part Number: T360005313 = O Ring, Injector, Upper Part Number: T1245016
14 = O Ring, Injector, Lower Part Number: T1240806

Store: The O-Ring Store https://www.theoringstore.com/store/

Parts: V3.00x008 V75 (upper), and V2.40x009.6 (lower) - those are the dimensions (upper = 3

Suggestions from forums on potential issues: "Don't be surprised if you find that the end of your fuel line is actually cracking at the fitting. I chased O rings for a while and discovered that to be my source instead."

"the union (which is plastic) was the culprit. It was cracked and just giving it a wee jiggle made it worse"https://www.triumphrat.net/threads/955-sprint-fuel-o-ring-rubber-sizes.163915/
Fuel Fitting O-Rings

* Triumph O RING, FUEL PIPE CONNECTOR - T1240181
* Buna-N O-Rings - #9452K19 McMaster-Carr https://www.mcmaster.com/

o SPECS

+ AS568A Dash Number: 010
+ Type: O-Ring
+ O-Ring Type: Standard
+ Width: 1/16"
+ Actual Width: .070"
+ Inside Diameter: 5/16"
+ Actual Inside Diameter: .301"
+ Outside Diameter: 7/16"
+ Actual Outside Diameter: .441"
+ Material: Buna-N
+ Durometer: Hard
+ Durometer Shore: Shore A: 70
+ Temperature Range: -35° to +250°F
+ Color: Black
* Viton O-Rings - #9464K16 McMaster-Carr

o SPECS

+ AS568A Dash Number: 011
+ Typ:e O-Ring
+ System of Measurement: Inch
+ Width: 1/16" (1.5875mm)
+ Inside Diameter: 5/16" (7.938mm)
+ Outside Diameter: 7/16" (11.113mm)
+ Material: Viton
+ Durometer: Hard
+ Durometer Shore: Shore A: 75
+ Temperature Range: -15° to +400°F
+ Color: Black
https://www.theoringstore.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=38145

NAPA cross reference on this O-ring is:
Part Number: BK 7272011
Product Line: Balkamp
Dimensions : 5/16" I.D. x 7/16" O.D. x 1/16" W ( 7.938mm I.D. x 11.113mm O.D. x 1.5875mm W )
Material Type : Buna-N-Nitrile
SAE or Metric : SAE

QUESTION: are the upper and lower O-rings different (I'm assuming so because Triumph gave them different part numbers). - they are different thicknesses.

"The upper o-ring is approximately 15mm outer diameter with a 3.5mm cross-section, while the lower o-ring is about 15mm outer diameter with a 2mm cross-section"

2mm wide lower: https://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B07GJK53QJ/
3.5mm wide upper: https://www.amazon.ca/gp/product/B07JWCD86K/
I'll give these a go and see how they do.

https://www.ebay.ca/itm/156327987779 - that's high-larious! Forty bucks for an (as in ONE!) 20 year old O-ring! It ain't just the stealerships who cane you for these parts (when they deign to sell them).

https://theinjectorshop.com/en-ca/products/fuel-injectors-rebuild-repair-o-ring-kit-for-triumph-sprint-st-tiger-1050-2007-2009?_pos=1&_sid=00ce905cd&_ss=r

Hmm, do 1050 tigers use the same O-rings/injectors?

2007 Tiger 1050 parts:
O Ring, Injector, Upper T1245016 (same as 955i part)
O Ring, Injector, Lower T1245006 not - damn it!

Hey, Tim. Try using AI to solve this problem! Here's Perplexity.ai (on 'pro' mode!)


Adamantly and repeatedly incorrect. So much for HAL 9000 fixing the Tiger. I'll give those Amazon parts a try and let you know the results.

NAPA details: https://www.napacanada.com/en/p/PSH71169 Part #: PSH 71169
.301 ID X .070 W (7.645mm ID X 1.778mm) why only show the inside diameter?

Deja vu: https://tkmotorcyclediaries.blogspot.com/2023/10/finding-your-way-around-oems-giving-up.html

Based on that the 15mm outside diameter 3.5 and 2mm thickness is a pretty close guess.
Why doesn't NAPA provide full dimensions: https://www.napacanada.com/en/p/ELR429060? I'm going to run over to our local with the two O-rings and see if they'll help me match them up, but the site could be more helpful.



O-rings for the fuel fittings to the tank (they are stainless steel on mine): "they are A010 and if you are in the USA you can get a kit from Harbor Freight with a bunch of them for $10.  There is also a metric size I found that was a little thicker which might give you more confidence but require some petroleum jelly to get the fitting in. Don't be surprise d if you find that the end of your fuel line is actually cracking at the fitting. I chased O rings for a while and discovered that to be my source instead."



Sunday, 1 December 2024

Going for (yet another) fueling fix on the 955i Triumph Tiger


 It's a tricky thing finding the parts you need on a bike no longer supported by its manufacturer, but I keep getting lucky with quality aftermarket providers, in this case Quantum Fuel Systems out of California.

Ordering was easy, transport was astonishingly quick and transparent and I had the kit on hand less than 48 hours after I ordered it. I haven't had many better shipping experiences.

I went with Quantum because they had a full kit including hardware and a fuel filter (because none of that is available through the dealer). No instructions came with the kit but the pump, filter and strainer (all included in the kit) are an easy fit, especially when you've got the original sitting in front of you to work from. The whole thing took about half and hour from removing the plate it's attached to on the tank through to having it back together again.


This is where the fuel pump plate bolts to the tank.

The original pump (mounted in front), fuel filter (behind) and strainer off to the right.

Disassembly was straightforward. One of the nice things about an immersed system like this is that rust can't get at it.

The new bits installed, very straightforward.


You can see the difference in colour with the strainer. The old one was stiff as well as discoloured. With all new parts I'm hoping this magically restores the Tiger to regular fueling duties. I've seen some other comments suggesting that this is the silver bullet when it comes to old Triumph 955i fueling headaches.

It's all back in the tank again now. I'll get the bike back together and if the snow holds off take it for a spin, hopefully with a sense of resolution.



Update


Got it back together again and the new fueling bits have solved the starting problems (it fires on the button again) and it idles steadily again - a bit high even (but I'd been messing with the fuel maps to try and bump up idle speeds). I've since reinstalled the stock map and it starts and idles well.. But as with everything fueling related on this thing, one solution has caused another problem.

Previously the throttle worked fine but it wouldn't start or idle. Now it starts and idles but if you touch the throttle is stalls. My first thought is that this might be because the new throttle cable wasn't adjusted right, so I loosened it off and gave it the required slack the manual suggests. It still stalls when you touch the throttle.

The next thought was perhaps the new fuel pump and filters have messed with the throttle body synchronization (this bike is notoriously finicky about this). So, I took the fuel tank off (again - can't count how many times now) and rebalanced everything yesterday. We've got our first snows of the year now so I can't take it for a spin, but I'm hoping to have it all back together (again) this week and see if I've got a working Tiger.

If you want a sense of how perilous fueling is on 955i Triumphs, Classic Bike Magazine (my go to for genuinely helpful advice on keeping old bikes running since Practical Sportsbikes closed down and got folded into CB who now support a much wider range of machines) had a piece on the 955i Speed Triple (one of my all time favourite bikes). Page two had the enlightening piece to the right.

Fueling on these old Triumphs is a known headache. I've sold on bikes I've become frustrated with before and the problem hangs in my mind. Rather perversely, I need to figure out what's wrong with the Tiger before I sell it rather than just selling it on in this state. Not knowing what the problem is will drive me nuts. On the upside, if I become one of the 'very few people with experience of the Segem fuel injection', I'd be able to pick up a 955i Speed Triple that isn't working for a song.

Doing this after the Tiger, now *that* would be perverse!

Monday, 11 November 2024

Tiger, or not to Tiger, that is the question: Triumph 955i Winter To Do List

 Problems

Yes, I'm swearing at it.

  • The idle control problem has returned (stalling)
  • This is happening with no errors in the computer (all sensors working then?)
  • Fuelly smell (leak? mixture too rich, but with no errors?)
  • Poor starting is new (takes many attempts - might be a wiring issue?)
  • Triumph not supporting the bike any more with parts or service
  • Not a popular model/make, even finding used parts a challenge
  • I'm told that this wasn't a bike built to last (with the two above points this is problematic)
  • New throttle cable may not be adjusted correctly

Recent Attempts to fix

  • new throttle and clutch cables
  • balanced throttle bodies and checked valve clearances in the summer
  • cleaned the relays under the seat and it started easier (but still not on the button as it used to)

Winter Targets

  • recheck all the possible points of failure
    • valves
    • check throttle position sensor
    • check fuel pump (but then do what? Fuel Pump Factory pump replacement - but where to find the filter? Quantum Fuel Systems kit comes with one.
    • throttle bodies balanced
    • throttle cable adjusted
    • replace all fuel o-rings and check for seal
    • clean all wiring connectors
    • double check all connectors for tightness/connection
    • torque set everything with easy reach
    • follow the book and keep it tight to spec (don't do any of it from memory)
    • Only change the oil (less than a 1000k on it since last change) if everything else is promising (saving myself $120+ in the process)

Goal

  • Resolve starting issues
  • Resolve fueling issues
  • Stabilize the bike and sell it (?)
  • What might change my mind:
    • understanding the ongoing fueling headaches
    • understanding whether they are fixable with the resources I have
    • determining if ongoing ownership is worth the hassle
  • If viable, consider the 2001 low mileage bike
  • Upgrade the headlamps to LED
  • Ride the bike to the usual 5k+ kms next summer or
  • Sell it for what I purchased it for 8+ years ago


If the Tiger problems are diagnosable (ie: it's not of an age that it's simply falling to pieces) and solvable with the resources I've got, aim at 100k by end of 2025. If it's too 'disposable' and unsupported, move it on to someone with the time and patience to deal with it.

$1900 in Windsor. $1500 for the bike and another $300
to get a van to go get it? If the Tiger warrants long term
ownership then this move makes sense. It has <30k on it!
What do I hope? I can find the time to make it viable and ride it until it's the last one on the
road in Canada. If that happens picking up the parts bike from Windsor makes sense. Perhaps I could park it in the shed and only go to it when I need parts.

The alternative is to let the bike I've put the most miles on and have owned the longest go. My already limited brand loyalty has been stretched to breaking by the lack of support from Triumph. The Tiger replaced a 22 year old Kawasaki 1000GTR/C10 that I had no trouble finding parts and even service for. In between I had a '97 Fireblade that Honda was happy to support, but not so for Triumphs that were built up to only a few years ago.

I'd like to spend my riding years riding more than spannering. The C14/1400GTR has been dependable and with my various adjustments on it I'm still finding that I'm learning about it, though its road focus means I can't trail ride like I do on the Tiger. With the Tiger gone my accidental Kawasaki fixation (I don't go looking for them, they seem to appear when I need them to), I'm tempted to see if a KLR650 would do the dual sporting I'm missing on the Concours. It would certainly be more off road friendly than the heavier, fragile, unsupported Tiger.

Other options could be a Royal Enfield Himalayan, Tenere 700 or CRF 300 Honda (though they aren't good with bigger riders, which I am). The KLRs are plentiful, not overly expensive and well understood as the model has been going forever. I've also got a Kawasaki dealer 10 minutes from the house (as opposed to the 2+ hours for Triumph).

The long bomb would be going in a completely different direction and getting something like a Moto Guzzi V85TT, though that puts me back into potentially fragile, poorly supported European manufacturer territory (they sure are pretty though). If I'm looking for a bike to put miles, it probably isn't that one. Perhaps when I'm riding less one will find a spot in the garage.

This winter will answer this existential question:


Tiger, or not to Tiger? That is the question.


Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

The slings and arrows of outrageous mileage,

Or to take arms against a sea of manufacturer unsupported troubles

And by opposing end them.

Sunday, 20 October 2024

SMART Adventures and Off Road Performance Dirtbikes

 Over the long weekend I got out to SMART Adventures again for my yearly knobbly tire exercise. If you've read TMD you'll know I've tried to off road in South Western Ontario, but got stick for riding on hydro cuts and farmland and generally got nimbied right out of dual sport ownership. SMART is my release valve while thinking of ways to escape living in the one part of Canada that doesn't make off road riding easy.

If I lived anywhere else I'd have picked up the DR650 I found on a farm a couple of years ago and that would be my dedicated off road machine. My neighbor picked up a new Tenere 700 and I've long had my eye on Honda's CRF300 Rally - both of those would do the trick, though after this weekend I'm thinking a dirt focused specialist might be the way. 

Last year's SMART was an apex experience for both Max and I as we got advanced individual instruction on the off road vehicles of our choice, I even got to ride an electric machine! This year we'd planned to meet with friends at Horseshoe Resort and that gave us a discount opportunity with SMART, so I signed everyone up for the busy Saturday afternoon on the long weekend.


I initially went out on the Kawasaki I rode last year, but the gear shifter had been banged about by a previous rider and it wouldn't go into gear, so I got to switch to a Yamaha WR250F with upside down forks, high compression and proper brakes. I'd never been bothered with any of that and always thought a trail focused machine would be what I'd get as a pure dirt bike, but this Yamaha changed my mind.



Unlike the 230 I started off on or the Honda and Kawasaki 250s I rode last time, the Yamaha demands more but rewards you for it. If you can appreciate the difference between an appliance car and a sports car you can understand the difference here too. Those upside down shocks will get you across pretty much everything with incredible feel, and the brakes are precision tools, but it was the engine that took me to my next level, and eventually let me slip the surly bonds of earth and fly (!).

Trail bikes tend to be tuned for torque low down without worrying about stalling. This higher compression motor needs more revs, but when it comes on song (the exhaust snarls when you get there), it'll pull you up any hill or over any obstacle. If you're riding over whoops, it'll get both wheels off the ground too.

This turned out to be just the bike I needed just as I needed it because I probably wasn't skilled enough to appreciate it before now.  SMART put me with Adam, the brother of my instructor from last year, who did a great job of testing my limits without overwhelming me. We covered a lot of miles through the fall woods. That's a SMART hack: if you know what you're doing say you're 'expert' on the intake form. If gets you out of the kids-who-think-they-can catagory and lets you focus on improving your craft, usually one-on-one with an instructor.



The Kwak wasn't up for it, but that gave me a chance to explore the competition ready Yamaha...



Passed these guys while out on the trail - that's the dream setup.


Adam and I got deep into the forest - he's the red smudge down the trail that I'm keeping up with (because he kepts slowing to check on me). Every 10-15 minutes we'd stop and talk about technique, and then go exercise the talk.

Everyone had a good day out. The girls got out in a side by side and discovered that off roading in one of these is well within their skillsets and not at all uncomfortable. The only complaint came from Max who wanted a more extreme ATV experience as he's now expert in that. Next time he'll be sure to stress that he wants to be in the advanced group.

That Yam is the bomb! It's on my wishlist now.


Sunday, 6 October 2024

Taking a 955i Tiger from Triumph Engineers to Vintage Ownership

 I'm bound and determined to keep the old Tiger in motion. Triumph has abandoned me in
terms of parts support, but there is another way and Classic Bike Magazine shows you how to find it. I used to depend on Practical Sports Bikes for keeping these pre-classics in motion, but they killed it.

Rick Parkington writes a lot about the transition from standard manufacturer supported bike ownership to vintage bike ownership, but what he's really on about is keeping a bike in motion when the plug-and-play relationship with modern bike parts isn't an option any more. For a modern Triumph that happens about 20 years after they build it (I've had older Kawasakis and Hondas that kept providing parts, but I digress).


The biggest thing to get your head around is being ready to find alternatives that meet the needs you're facing rather than following the manual and hoping for parts to arrive that you can swap in. One of my issues on a 90k+ bike is slack in the machine. The throttle stop has worn down over many miles so I've been playing with putting a spacer nut on there.

When I had it apart today I used the grinder to try two different cuts of nut to get my idle back to where it should be. The middle one gives me perhaps a mm of recovered space on the pin that catches the throttle when it returns to idle at a point that doesn't make the engine struggle.


Another one of those vintage approaches is around battling fasteners. You can never assume something will come off as it should. In this case the fastener on the throttle casing on the handlebar creates swear words.

While I had it apart today I put in two new cables (throttle and clutch). Thanks to Rogx in Germany (who are still producing new cables for the 955i Tiger which was popular there), I got two new cables with all the hardware and it arrived early and with no headache (I love dealing with Germans!).

The clutch cable was fraying by the transmission so it was well past time. My thought is that if this one lasts as long as the first one (over 90k), then I'll be happy. I ran both cables next to the existing ones to get the runs right and then removed the old ones afterwards. It was a satisfying rainy Sunday afternoon in the garage.

No complaints (other than Triumph not supporting its own machines when they are less than 20 years old). These cables both did over 90k through brutal Canadian temperature changes.

A satisfying Sunday afternoon getting the Tiger sorted. I think another couple of hours and I'll have it back in motion for the end of the riding season here.

I wrote this as I was catching up on the Indonesian Grand Prix in MotoGP after a crazy (but awesome) week at work. I lost Marc after the Valentino incident back in 2015, but I'm starting to find my Marquez fandom again...



Wednesday, 21 August 2024

Under Dark Skies Chapter 4

Chapter 4. Previous chapters can be found in previous posts. 







British Expeditionary Force
Monday, May 13th, 1940
Reims Aerodrome – Northern France

 

As was so often the case, Bill was back in Scotland in the Trials. He was exhausted and the bike was hanging together by a thread, but neither of them were going to stop. The smell of the ancient mud and heather from highland moors filled his nose, then suddenly he was in the pub in Fort William, and everyone was cheering as they hung his medal above the bar. The backslapping turned to slaps. In an instance he was back home in Norfolk, fired for taking the week off to compete and looking at an RAF poster.

“All I’ve got to give you is blood, toil, sweat and tears,” it said, and then he was laying in his bunk, grey morning light filling the room. Bill was the only one in the NCO bunky, but next door in the common room the radio was turned up. Through the static came a familiar voice.

“We have before us an ordeal of the most grievous kind. We have before us many, many long months of struggle and of suffering,” static surrounded Churchill’s familiar voice.

Bill swung his legs over the edge of the bunk and slipped on his boots. In the common room half a dozen junior NCOs were sitting at the table listening to the radio.

“…what is our policy? I can say: It is to wage war, by sea, land and air, with all our might and with all the strength that God can give us; to wage war against a monstrous tyranny, never surpassed in the dark, lamentable catalogue of human crime,” Churchill continued. He sounded like he was warming to his subject and the words were rolling out of him like thunder.

The men in the room were motionless, hanging on every word.

“…what is our aim? I can answer in one word: It is victory, victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory, however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.”

“Quite,” Sergeant Michaels said, taking a sip of his tea.

Bill walked over to the pot and poured himself a cup and leaned back against the wall to listen.

“… I feel sure that our cause will not be suffered to fail among men. At this time, I feel entitled to claim the aid of all, and I say, ‘come then, let us go forward together with our united strength.’” There was a silence at the end of the speech before the announcer cut in explaining that this had been recorded this morning in an emergency meeting of Parliament.

Bill looked around the room. Everyone was stony faced. The radio announcer suggested that Churchill had forced Parliament to open for that speech.

“Is Churchill Prime Minister now?” Bill asked.

“He got the job last Friday, mate,” Michaels laughed. “Where have you been?”

“In Belgium,” Bill replied absently, sipping his tea.

The junior NCOs exchanged glances.

“Why on earth would you want to go there?” Michaels asked.

“Someone asked me to give them a hand blowing up a bridge,” Bill replied. He was still a bit foggy after the long sleep.

“Did you manage it?” Michaels asked, sharing an incredulous look with the other NCOs.

“One less bridge for Gerry to supply petrol over,” Bill repeated what he’d said to Grimes the evening before.

“Meet any Germans?”

“A few too many, actually.”

“Right, give us the details!”

“I was the rabbit; I made a distraction and drew them away so the demolition boys could finish the job.”

“Jolly good, Corporal,” Michaels raised his mug.

“How are things here?” Bill asked.

“Lost three Hurricanes over the weekend. Another two are on fire outside this morning, but the weather’s closed in so hopefully we’ll have a day or two to get ourselves sorted.”

“Are we winning?” Bill asked, looking at the white faces.

“If we’re not, we’re making them pay for each step,” Corporal Allings said. The other men in the room murmured in agreement.

“Bloody right,” Bill replied, raising his cup to the room of tired men. “Want to see the latest in Nazi fashion?”

Everyone’s eyes lit up, so Bill put down his mug and dug the SS uniform out of his barracks box. Laying it out on the table it was a grand looking thing, though a bit grotty from the long ride. Say what you will about Nazis, but they design smashing uniforms.

“This is SS, isn’t it?” Allings asked, running a finger over the shoulder badges.

“It is,” Bill replied, “it’s a ScharfĂ¼hrer SS uniform. They told me the equivalent of a sergeant.”

The men looked over the uniform with interest. After months in country this was the first time any of them had seen an enemy uniform up close.

“Got the hat with it?” Rawlings asked.

“Just the big stormtrooper helmet, but I left it with the bike.”

“BMW R12?” Corporal Smith asked. He’d been one of the first to take the two-wheel training and had gotten into motorcycling magazines since.

“Yep, boxer twin, telescopic forks. It handled better than it should have and flatters the rider. If you’re ever being chased by one you want to get a move on, or they’ll catch you up.”

“Did they let you hang on to it?”

“No,” Bill said with some regret. “I had to leave it on the grounds of a Belgian castle.”

“It happens,” Michaels laughed.

Someone had gotten a tray of bread and bacon from the mess and were putting together sandwiches with the tea. Bill fell in with them for breakfast. After such a mad weekend it was nice to see familiar faces and chat.

 

Even with the weather closing in the airfield was a constant buzz of activity. So many planes weren’t returning or were landing in pieces that it was becoming obvious to everyone at Champagne-Reims that things weren’t going well. Being centralized with bomber squadrons made the members of Seventy-Three aware of just how badly things were getting as the bomber crews were constantly being swapped for fresh faces.

Bill sorted out the bikes and then lent a hand moving fuel bowser around. Midafternoon, under low cloud and heavy drizzle, he was filling up a bowser when the drone of German bombers sent everyone into a frenzy. Bombs started dropping across the airfield, concussing the air, and flattening the wet grass with each explosion. Bill kept the spigot on. If one landed on the trench you were in you were done anyway, and Hurricanes couldn’t intercept if they were empty. The raid had been well timed as most of the squadron had just returned from patrol after the morning rain had lifted.

No buildings were hit but two of the runways were damaged. Ten minutes later they were being filled. Bombing was an inexact science. It did more damage to morale than the apparatus of war, perhaps that was reason enough to do it.

Bill finished the refill and navigated the heavy lorry over the rutted earth, staying clear of where the planes taxied and took off. Pulling up to the squadron’s line of Hurricanes, pilots were either jumping out of their planes to take a comfort break before going up again or were necking a sandwich and a mug of tea, often both. The ground crews swarmed around the bowser, running lines out to the nearest plane and began refueling. Bill climbed out of the cab and stepped aside. Nothing worse than a bystander in the way.

“Corporal Morris,” Flight Sergeant Grimes was striding across the wet grass towards him. “Got a minute?”

“Yes, Flight,” Bill replied, wiping his hands on a rag, and walking over to meet him.

Grimes glanced around to make sure they were out of earshot, but everyone was too busy to listen in any case.

“Bit of bad news,” Grimes began quietly. “We’ve lost an entire squadron of Battles in one go. They went down at the Belgian border just northeast of Sedan in the Ardennes.”

“The Germans hold Sedan, don’t they?”

Grimes nodded, “They’re well behind enemy lines. At least two of the planes landed with full crews. They managed to radio in before going down.”

Grimes was poker faced which left Bill wondering what the ask was.  Grimes seemed to be struggling with it himself.

“The squadron senior NCO is an old friend,” Grimes finally continued. “He’s taking this badly. They’ve already lost their entire squadron once before and this one will break them. They need a win. I thought you might be able to think of something.”

“How many crews are we talking about?” Bill asked.

“Two-Two-Six had all six of their Fairies on a bombing raid near Les Mazures on the Meuse River. If they all survived it would be eighteen men, but that’s an optimistic estimate.”

As ridiculous as the question was, Bill was already trying to work out how to do it.

“In a pinch, that CitroĂ«n TUB could hold that much weight. It wouldn’t be comfortable, but it’d hold them,” he finally replied.

“It’s not an order,” Grimes said, “but if you’re willing to try and get them, we have coordinates that’ll get you close.”

“I don’t want to see that many airmen left behind,” Bill replied. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Thank you, Corporal. Good luck,” Grimes turned and walked briskly back to the temporary HQ.

 

With the rest of the squadron doing double duty to keep planes in the air, Bill was able to run around behind the scenes putting together a plan with notes heavily cribbed from Biffy’s bridge adventure. He fueled up the CitroĂ«n and the Tiger and took everything else out of the nondescript civilian van. It would make him invisible, but the real trick was to avoid any German entanglements, he knew a man who might help with that.

Bill rode the Tiger around the perimeter of the massive aerodrome to the main French HQ. It was lunch time so hopefully he’d be able to find Pierre in the officer’s mess. Stepping in from the rain, he brushed himself off and looked around. Several French officers had stopped eating and were looking at the damp RAF corporal standing in the door. From the back of the room by the window a familiar voice rang out.

“Corporal Morris!” Pierre stood up smiling with a wave. “Join me!”

Bill smiled back in relief. He’d gotten the distinct feeling that he was about to be yelled at in French. Walking past the annoyed stares, he took the empty seat across from Pierre.

“You look worried,” Pierre noted over a meal that put the RAF mess to shame. “Want some coffee?”

“Yes please,” Bill replied, shivering from the damp.

Pierre filled a porcelain cup with spectacular smelling coffee. Fighting a war in your own country had its perks.

“What can I do for you, damp Corporal?” Pierre asked, handing him the cup.

Bill took a sip and then looked Pierre in the eye.

“We lost an entire squadron of Fairey Battles this morning. They’ve gone down in the Ardennes northeast of Sedan.  My Flight Sergeant is wondering if I can go get them.”

“That’s thirty kilometres the wrong side of the German line,” Pierre said, “and a lot of people to try and fit on the back of a motorbike.”

“I’ve got a civilian CitroĂ«n TUB that should hold them,” Bill replied.

“Of course you do.”

“What I’d really like to do is avoid any enemy entanglements. Do you have any idea where they’re concentrated up there?”

Pierre took a sip of coffee and gave it some thought.

“I can find you some of the latest reconnaissance from the area, but they won’t be happy to see an RAF enlisted man in there. Wait in the Quartier General front office. Tell them Captain Clostermann has asked for you and they should leave you alone.”

“Thanks, Pierre.”

Both men drained their coffees and stood up. Bill followed Pierre out of the officer’s mess as many eyes followed them.

The Quartier General was a permanent building with heat, which Bill found magical after a winter living in various forms of temporary shelter. The officious git at the front desk could speak English but was determined not to. Bill finally got a dismissive gesture towards chairs in the lobby and went and sat in one. Pierre appeared a few minutes later with a notebook full of scribbled details. He sat down next to Bill in the waiting area and started a rapid fire debrief.

“Most of the German activity is on the east side of the Meuse. That river, eh? They have a major supply line running down the road from Hargnies that we’ve been trying to hit for the past week, but they provide strong air cover over it. Maybe head north to Vervins and then come in from that way, you’re only likely to meet light patrols. Their main push is into Sedan and then south.”

Pierre hesitated, closing the notebook, “Just because they are looking the other way doesn’t mean this will work William. Are you sure you have to do this?”

Bill smiled tightly, “I don’t have to do anything, but I don’t want people feeling hopeless and that’s how things are starting to get over our way. If I can nip in and get a few boys back home, it’ll help.”

Pierre nodded, “Bonne chance, mon ami.”

They stood together and shook hands.

“I’ll pop by later in the week and tell you how it went,” Bill smiled.

“I’m sure you will,” Pierre replied, though the worried look in his eyes didn’t go away.

 

With everyone running about putting their planes back together again, the barracks and mess were empty. Bill ate alone before dinner was scheduled. The ceiling had dropped to only a few hundred feet making visibility poor and grounding the planes, it was going to be a cold, damp evening. After getting food into him, Bill filled a thermos with tea and put together a sandwich to bring along. As everyone else was coming in for dinner, Bill headed out into the rain. The CitroĂ«n had non-descript grey paint that faded into the wet landscape. It was going to be such a handful unloaded that driving it in the wet made Bill distinctly uncomfortable. That’s when inspiration struck. Why not put a bike in it and ride back? If he vacated the van and let the aircrew drive it back, more of them would fit in the van.

The obvious choice was the only non-RAF bike he had: Louis Jeanin’s Tiger. The brace of Nortons and the lone Triumph were all sitting under a dripping tarpaulin. The Tiger was still cooling from the ride over to Pierre. Bill eased it out from under the tarp and rolled it over to the van. Dragging a plank from the bike shed and setting it as a ramp, he pushed the Tiger up into the van and tied it to the side with bits of rope. If the CitroĂ«n stopped bouncing about so much, he might not end up in a ditch.

With another couple of hours until dark, Bill shut the doors and double checked that the radiator was full, and that the engine had oil. He also went over everything with an oil can and checked and filled the tyres. The strange layout of the TUB made this a bit of an adventure but knowing where everything was seemed prudent, though doing it half under a tarp in pouring rain wasn’t fun.  Watching Biffy check the details and put his bridge demolition plan together had given Bill some idea of how to ensure success when a job had so many potential surprises.

As everyone else went back to putting their planes back into service, Bill hit his bunk and tried to sleep. He must have had a kip because the next thing he remembered was the sound of the other junior NCOs coming in after a long day on the field. He sat up and began putting his civilian clothes on. When he came through out of uniform the conversation around the card table stopped.

“That looks like trouble,” Michaels observed, putting his cards down.

“Off to see if I can bring some Fairey Battle crews back,” Bill replied, snagging a mug, and filling it from the ever-present tea pot.

“Long way to go?” Michaels asked.

“Ardennes,” Bill said, sipping his tea.

“Isn’t it full of Nazis?” Allings asked with a look of concern.

“That’s the tricky bit,” Bill replied, draining the tea.

“What’s the plan?” Michaels’ curiosity mirrored the room’s.

“Drive the CitroĂ«n van up there. Pretend I’m French and hope any Germans I ran into aren’t because my French won’t take it, find the crews, hand them the van and then ride back providing cover.”

“Think it’ll work?” Michaels asked.

“I’m about to find out,” Bill smiled, pulling on his dark blue fishing gansey and stepping out into the rainy night.

The hand knitted fisherman’s gansey was a gift given to him the day before he enlisted. It was a reminder of someone special at home, and it was remarkably good at repelling water, which would be handy tonight. She’d made it in her family pattern, and it was a unique thing. In the uniformed world of war, he had little chance to wear it.

The TUB fired up even though it had been sitting in the wet. As weird as the van was, you had to admire the engineering. Bill looked over his shoulder. The Tiger crouched in the back of the van staring back intently with its slotted black out headlamp. The chance to ride it again, this time possibly in anger, sent a thrill up Bill’s spine.

He put the van in gear and bounced over the rutted, wet field toward the gate. If they gave him any stick, he’d have them contact Grimes, but the bored French MP at the gate gave him a wave when he pulled up and he was through into the kind of darkness you only find in the countryside at night in the rain.

With the Tiger in the back the CitroĂ«n was manageable. Bill made good time north through the weather which was more tedious than terrifying. He pulled into Signy-l'Abbaye, on the edge of the Ardennes Forest just before midnight and turned off the lights. Sedan was east of him, and Pierre’s notes had suggested that this was where all the German attention was. He hadn’t seen another vehicle on the road having stuck to small back roads all the way up.

Using a torch, he scanned the map. Les Mazures was a village deep in the forest just west of the Meuse River, the same waterway they’d crossed in Belgium, but down here it was a much smaller river. With the rain and now a forest, Bill couldn’t have asked for better cover, but good cover also meant poor sight lines. He could easily round a corner to discover a hundred Nazis having dinner.

He turned the headlamps on and put the TUB into gear before rolling under the deeper shadows of the trees. The road followed a tributary that would eventually feed the Meuse. The running water was producing its own mist, cutting visibility even further. He passed through Villaine, another forested village where all the cottages and shops were dark, but on the outskirts, he saw a light ahead and pulled off the road onto a dirt path and turned everything off.

Looking at his map again by torchlight, he was less than ten miles from where the Fairey crews had gone down. As he double checked the map a heavy-duty vehicle rumbled past on the road behind him. The lightless TUB sitting in the shadows hadn’t drawn any attention. That had been a big, military lorry, possibly a troop carrier. A familiar sound followed as a pair of sidecar outfits passed by, and then Bill’s heart jumped in his chest, the mechanical groan of a treaded tank was getting louder.

Staring at the rear-view mirror, Bill sat motionless in the shadows. He’d seen tanks but never up close, he was in the wrong branch of the service for that sort of thing. A Panzer heaved into view behind him, making quick progress down the country road. It had a bright spotlight on it that was scanning the forest. Bill could make out the manned heavy machine gun mount on top next to the spotlight. That gun would turn his van into Swiss cheese in seconds. The light swept across the CitroĂ«n as the Panzer rolled down the road, but it didn’t hesitate; a nondescript French delivery van was the best possible camouflage.

Behind the Panzer another large lorry passed and finally something smaller, maybe one of those little square KĂ¼belwagens he’d seen at the Luxembourg border last week. Was that only last week? As the convoy of mechanized soldiers thundered into France unimpeded, Bill’s heart started to slow down. The dirt road continued into the forest ahead. He’d intended to fire up the TUB and drive hard into the woods had they stopped, but his civilian camouflage and going to ground had done the trick.

He gave it a minute more and then started up the van and backed it out onto the road. The pavement was in rougher shape after being churned up by the Panzer, so slow and steady it was. Knowing that mechanized unit was blocking their way out was something to keep in mind. Along with the heavy machinery, there must have been dozens of men in those vehicles.

Chapter 5 can be found here.