Flying north along the road from Lille to bust a German recon balloon. I wave to the foot boys in their muddy trenches. Simulation of Aerial Combat and Gallantry in World War 1. Oh, how they envy me. Poor devils. Off to the left. The scoundrel in the red Fokker. Can it be. My dear chum Bates signaled that his gun was jammed, but that greedy Hun downed him nonetheless. The Fokker is flying east. Homeward, low on petrol, no doubt. The balloon can wait. This won't take long. You are a hunter sta.
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