Dogfight

Fearing for your airplane's structure, you ease out of the turn. The humming and complaining from the crate stops and you gently bank around looking for your opponent.

But by this time, he has made like the proverbial bat out of h--- and is somewhere in Strasborg by now, no doubt sipping schnapps with a plump frauline on each knee.

Somehow, you fail to get too upset about this.