Find The Enemy And Shoot

Fighter Pilots Rove In The Area Allotted To Them In Any Way They Like, And When They Spot An Enemy They Attack And Shoot Them Down.... Everything Else Is Rubbish.

As A Little Boy Of Eleven I Entered The Cadet Corps. I Was Not Particularly Eager To Become A Cadet, But My Father Wished It. So My Wishes Were Not Consulted.

If I Should Come Out Of This War Alive, I Will Have More Luck Than Brains.

Sometimes, However, The Gaelic Blood Asserts Itself. The Frenchmen Will Then Attack. But The French Attacking Spirit Is Like Bottled Lemonade. It Lacks Tenacity. The Englishmen, On The Other Hand, One Notices That They Are Of Germanic Blood. Sportsmen Easily Take To Flying, And Englishmen See In Flying Nothing But A Sport.

Everything Depends On Whether We Have For Opponents Those French Tricksters Or Those Daring Rascals, The English. I Prefer The English. Frequently Their Daring Can Only Be Described As Stupidity. In Their Eyes It May Be Pluck And Daring.