Three of the German machines
had already turned back, but the remaining one went on, insolently
counting on his own power and speed. I shall never forget Guynemer, his
face lifted, his eyes illuminated as if hypnotized by this point in
space, his figure upright and stiffened like an arrow waiting to be
released by the bow. Before pulling down his helmet he gave the order:
"Straight at him."
The engines snorted and snored, the propellers began to move, the
machines rolled along, and suddenly were seen climbing almost
vertically. Up above the fight was beginning, and it seemed as if the
three starting airplanes could never reach in time the altitude of four
or five thousand meters at which it was taking place.
The attacking Spad was obviously trying to get its opponent within
firing range, but the German was a first-rate pilot and dodged without
losing height, banking, looping, taking advantage of the Frenchman's
dead angles, and striving to get him under his machine-gun. Round and
round the two airplanes circled, when suddenly the German bolted in the
direction of the Aisne cliffs.
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