His work was surely done; Fritz continued to
wabble and then plunged in a deadly drop until he got to the Lens-Arras
road, where he made a desperate attempt to alight on the highway; but he
got tangled up in the trees, his wings being smashed and remaining in
the branches, the body of the plane shooting down into a deep ditch and
embedding itself and its two occupants in the mud. They were dead. A
tremendous cheer greeted this victory over the first opponent. The other
two airmen followed our bird, volleying at him as they flew. With a
quick motion he turned upside down, swooping for the bird on his upper
left, and continued to chase and fight him in this position. The other
German bird was off to one side, put-put-put-put-ing! for all he was
worth, but his bullets were wasted by reason of the upside down
position. In a run of another 500 yards the work of our lad was
finished, his machine gun having done the trick; and Fritz and his pilot
being killed, the machine dashed rudderless to the ground, nose first.
There remained but one.
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