It was one of the early patrols with the Fokker Triplane - a craft that had the ascendancy over anything the Allies possessed. He had struck from above and behind, death on blood-red wings. But, for once, a rarity above all, the plane had landed behind the lines, the signs of life apparent in it.

He lowered the Fokker, cutting the engine, and it bounced to a slow stop. He bounded from the cockpit, priming his pistol. It was time to see if the pilot was going to live.