Christmas celebrated very nicely and in comfort. Christmas Eve we
had a celebration for the men in one of the hangars, which was all
decorated. They all received some fine presents. The authorities had
sent a package with all kinds of things for each one of them. In the
evening we officers also had a little celebration at the Casino; here
they also gave out our presents. For me there was a very beautiful
silver cup, among other things. This cup was inscribed "To the victor
in the air," and was given to me by the Commander-in-Chief of the
Aviation Corps. Immelmann received its mate.
Day before yesterday I had a fight with a very keen opponent, who
defended himself bravely. I was superior to him and forced him into
the defensive. He tried to escape by curving and manoeuvring, and
even tried to throw me on the defensive. He did not succeed, but I
could not harm him either. All I did accomplish was to force him
gradually closer to earth. We had started at 2,800 and soon I had him
down to 1,000 meters. We kept whirring and whizzing around each other.
As I had already fired on two other enemy craft on this trip, I had
only a few cartridges left. This was his salvation. Finally he could
not defend himself any more because I had mortally wounded his
observer. Now it would have been comparatively safe for me to get him
if I had not run out of ammunition at the 800-meter level. Neither of
us was able to harm the other. Finally another Fokker (Immelmann) came
to my rescue and the fight started all over again. I attacked along
with Immelmann to confuse the Englishman. We succeeded in forcing him
to within 100 meters of the ground and were expecting him to land any
moment. Still he kept flying back and forth like a lunatic. I, by
flying straight at him, wanted to put a stop to this, but just then
my engine stopped and I had to land. I saw him disappear over a row of
trees, armed myself with a flashlight (I had nothing better) and rode
over on a horse. I expected that he had landed, but imagine my
surprise! He had flown on. I inquired and telephoned, but found out
nothing. In the evening the report came that he had passed over our
trenches at a height of 100 meters on his way home. Daring of the
chap! Not every one would care to imitate him. Immelmann had jammed
his gun and had to quit.