The Murder Of A Man Is Still

Everything In The Air That Is Beneath Me, Especially If It Is A One Seater . . . Is Lost, For It Cannot Shoot To The Rear.

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.

Whatever Boelcke Told Us Was Taken As Gospel!

It Is A Pity That My Collection Of Trophies Contains Not A Single Russian.

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.