George Hawker, Lano

I was extremely proud when one day I was informed that the pilot I shot down on November 23, 1916, was, as they say, the English Immelman.

By the nature of the battle, it was clear to me that I was shooting down a first-class pilot.

One day, in a careless mood, I went hunting, when I suddenly noticed three Englishmen, who, apparently, also went out to hunt. They are interested in me. Since I wanted to fight, I did not disappoint them.

I flew at a lower altitude, waiting for one of my English "friends" to try to fall on top of me. Very soon he planned, wanting to knock me back. After five shots, he had to stop shooting, as I turned sharply and deviated from the course.

The Englishman tried to overtake me from the rear, while I tried to go to his tail. Thus, we circled like madmen, one after another at an altitude of about 3,000 meters.

First we did twenty laps to the left, then thirty laps to the right. Everyone tried to go back and above.

I quickly realized that I was not dealing with a novice. He had no intention of ending the fight. He flew in a "box", which is perfectly maneuvered. However, my “packing” was better when climbing. Finally, I managed to top off the tail of my English "waltz partner".

When we descended to a height of 2,000 meters, having achieved nothing, my opponent should have understood that it was time for him to get out of the way. The wind was blowing in a favorable direction for me, getting us closer and closer to the German positions. Finally, we were over Bapom, about half a mile from the line of the German troops. The guy was full of courage, and when we dropped to a height of about 3 thousand meters, he waved his hand gaily to me, as if asking, “Well, how are you?”

The circles that we described, chasing each other, were so small that they were probably no more than 100 meters in diameter. I had time to carefully consider my opponent. I saw every turn of his head. If it was not a helmet, then would be visible and facial expressions.

My Englishman was a good hunter, but gradually the situation became more and more dangerous for him. He had to decide what to do: to land on German soil or return to the location of the British troops. Of course, he tried to do the last, making vain efforts to escape from me, making loops and similar tricks. At this time, his first bullets flew close to me, so far none of us could shoot.

Having dropped to 100 meters, he made an attempt to get away from me and flew in a zigzag manner to make it harder to fire from the ground. It was the most opportune moment for me. I pursued him at a height of 50 - 80 meters, shooting all the time. The Englishman simply could not help but fall, but my machine gun suddenly jammed, and it almost deprived me of victory.