When I began to think my bluff had not succeeded, he
seemed impressed and began to descend again. I placed myself at a
distance of 10 meters, but every time I showed my nose the
passenger aimed at me. The road to Compiegne: 1000 ... 800 meters.
When I showed my nose, the passenger, standing, stopped aiming and
made a sign that he gave himself up. All right! I saw under his
belly that four shells had struck the mark. 400 meters: the Boche
slowed up his "_moulin_" (motor). 200 meters, 20 meters. I let him
go and watched him land. At 100 meters I circled and found I was
over an aerodrome. But, having no more cartridges, I could not
prevent them from setting fire to their "taxi," a magnificent 200
H.P. Albatros. When I saw they had been surrounded, I landed and
showed the Boches my broken machine-gun. Sensation. They had fired
at me two hundred times: my bullets, before the breakdown, had gone
through their altimeter and their tachometer, which had caused
their excitement. The pilot said that an airplane had been forced
down two days before at Goyancourt: passenger killed, pilot wounded
in legs--had to have one amputated above the knee.
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