"IT'S VICTORY OR—DEATH!"

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXVI, Issue 23507, 18 November 1939, Page 7 (Supplement)

"IT'S VICTORY OR—DEATH!"

THESE stories we are beginning to of air battles on the Western Front arouse vivid memories among wartime aviators, writes Captain Eddie Rickenbacker in the New York Times. There is probably no other form of conflict bo full of instant surprises, so unpredictable, as battle in the air.

alike, although the principles of combat are about the same. Probably there will not be so many dog fights in this war as in the lastair tactics have changed with new and faster types of 'planes—but when they do take place they will be even more furious and deadly. A modern 'plane, bristling with machine-guns, can spray a regular barrage at an opponent. Victory or death is a matter of minutes in a. dog fight. When the 'planes take off from the field and head toward the enemy lines none of the young pilots can be sure that lie will come back. His life depends on his skill in handling his 'plane, on his audacity and his luck.

Those of us who have survived can recapture in the news from Europe some of tlioso brief and fatal moments of more than 20 years ago—moments when wc were rolling about, high above the earth, feeling the crack of bullets going by. our ears, spitting lead at the other fellow when wc could cling to him for a moment, seeing 'planes reel about us and Tall. - ' , . , The only thing certain about dog fights is tin; uncertainty. No two are

There Isn't Time In a Modern

Just what sort of dog fights this war will see is still problematical, because of the speed of the 'planes. There will be only a split second in which to fire. But if you wotdd care to undertake such a dubious adventure, even in imagination, let's go out on a patrol and see what can be found.

Twenty thousand feet over enemy territory a squadron is cruising through the clouds. Every pilot is twisting his head as he looks for the enemy. He needs a dozen eyes. Suddenly, below, a group of 'planes is seen. The squadron leader waggles his wings and goes over in a screaming dive, followed by the others.

Almost within range the enemy sees him, but it is too late. The guns of the attacking 'planes arc pouring lead at the enemy 'planes nearest them, and one goes down. The others pull up and over, the formation breaks, and in a moment the air is full of individual combats. 'Planes spin and climb steeply, sideslip and turn. You get on the tail of an enemy ship for rt second. He is hit. There is

a crack behind you as a bullet goes through your fuselage, and you fall out of range and turn to meet, this new opponent. The swift turns at 300 miles an hour jam you in your seat so that you can hardly breathe. ! Fan of Fire Each rush at your opponent, or, his rush at you, results in a swift manoeuvre that carries the two of you far apart, and then brings you close together again at terrific speed. The guns in the nose and wings of your sliip throw a concentrated fan of Are. 'Plane after 'plane goes.down —ships of your squadron as well as the enemy —until the remaining enymy 'planes are so outnumbered that they run for homo to fight another day. The survivors of your squadron reassemble and return to their base to check up on the number of 'planes they have brought down and on their own casualties. They don't talk much about their losses; they get used to them. Are the pilots seared? Not till'they, get back on the ground. There isn't time to be frightened in a dog fight. There isn't time to think of anything except how to stay alive and get the other fellow. It's all over in a few minutes.