He would know how to wring it out of
them.
Six days later, December 14, with his comrade, the sober and calm
Bucquet, he attacked two Fokkers, one of which was dashed to pieces in
its fall, while the other damaged his own machine. A letter to his
father described the combat in his own brief and direct manner, without
a superfluous word: "Combat with two Fokkers. The first, trapped, and
his passenger killed, dived upon me without having seen me. Result: 35
bullets at close quarters and '_couic_' [his finish]! The fall was seen
by four other airplanes (3 plus 1 makes 4, and perhaps that will win me
the 'cross'). Then combat with the second Fokker, a one-seated machine
shooting through the propeller, as rapid and easily handled as mine. We
fought at ten meters, both turning vertically to try to get behind.
"My spring was slack: compelled to shoot with one hand above my head, I
was handicapped; I was able to shoot twenty-one times in ten seconds.
Once we almost telescoped, and I jumped over him--his head must have
passed within fifty centimeters of my wheels. That disgusted him; he
went away and let me go.
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