A story of the Battle of Britain written while the guns were firing.

Suddenly the scream of a diving plane sounded above the din of the action. For a second I was at a loss to know where it came from. Then I saw it. Just north of the drome it was, falling perpendicularly, it's engines flat out. It dived out of control behind some trees and I saw the spout of earth and smoke it shot up. I felt slightly sick. I could imagine some poor devil fighting at the controls and then desperately trying to pull back a hood that had been jammed. It was as though I had been shown in a dream what was going to happen. And then came the crash...