raining German planes!

"Well!" Larkin exclaimed aloud. "Here's a howdy-do!"

The planes to the eastward were looming up with surprising speed, and no
one could say when the ones behind and above would open up their
murderous guns. What would Cowan do? What would any of these green
pilots do in such a dog fight? Larkin looked down at McGee. He was still
climbing for all he was worth. Cowan, if he saw anything, was too
paralyzed for action. But perhaps he had not seen. Air eyes come through
experience, Larkin knew, and something must be done right now.

In the moment that he determined upon a course of action he saw another
group of planes come streaming out of the cloud to the south. Curtains!
The whole sky was full of planes. Then, as they swerved sharply, he saw
the sunlight play on the allied cockade. And how they came! Spads,
French Spads! Going up to the front, perhaps, as a covering flight for
the observation crates far below. But now they were swinging into this
grand and unexpected melee.

Larkin grinned. "Here _is_ a howdy-do--sure 'nuff!" he repeated and
went into a tight, climbing turn that brought him squarely around,
facing the planes streaming down out of the sun. Taps for Mr. Larkin, he
thought, but he would at least give them pause, and by so doing not only
provide Cowan with a chance to wake up and manoeuver, but it would give
the oncoming Spads the one thing they needed--time!

The lightning-like movements and happenings of an aerial dog fight
cannot be followed or seen by any one man. Fortunate indeed is that
pilot who can keep track of what is going on around him. One moment he
may have a single adversary; the next he is the target for two or more
planes. If he shakes them off, or by marksmanship reduces the odds, he
may check in for mess that evening; failing to do so, a squadron
commander will that night requisition a new pilot.

As Larkin came around on the quickly executed turn he was only faintly
conscious of the fact that a considerable group of Fokker tri-planes
were sweeping down on him. He gave no thought to the number. His eye was
fixed upon a bright green and gold plane in the lead. As he pulled up
the nose of his Camel and thumbed the trigger release for his first
burst, he sensed the strange exultation that comes to that man who,
facing death in a forlorn hope and knowing there is no escape, accepts
all chances and sells his life as dearly as possible.

The diving green and gold p