"I decided not to touch them, old man! I want to bomb them--whatever
they may be. Anyway the leader's gone off--we better follow."
Some way ahead of us were the two other machines flying homewards. We
toiled on behind them, receiving a few parting shell-bursts as a
farewell. Out to sea we flew till we were off Dunkerque, and then we
turned in towards the coast. We passed over the crowded docks, and over
the brown roofs of the town, gliding down with our engines throttled
back, when suddenly I looked to the left and saw that one of the
propellers had stopped dead. My heart jumped into my throat, and I took
the pilot by the arm.
He looked round and told me to get into the back in order to try to
start up the engine. I hurried into the little canvas-walled room and
gripped the metal starting-handle, and tried to turn it again and again
in vain. The sweat poured off my forehead, my arm ached, but I could do
nothing. It would not move.