It was in truth a duel, no chance meeting of men determined to slay one another, but a battle following a regular challenge and fought by prearrangement and without interference from either side. This air battle was witnessed with the deepest interest by the men of both armies who were crouched in the trenches and separated only by a few yards at No Man's Land. The fire of the anti-aircraft gun on both sides was stilled. Captain Ball, the youthful English pilot who was recently killed after a series of winning battles in the air, was the victor. The story of the duel, which was one of the most sensational events of the war, was told in a letter written to me by a friend of mine who was one of the eye witnesses of the fight.
One morning Captain Ball, who was behind our sector, heard that Immelman was opposite. "This is the chance I have been waiting for. I am going to get him," declared Ball. His friends tried to dissuade him by saying the story of Immelman's presence probably was untrue. Ball would not listen. Getting into his machine, he flew over the German lines and dropped a note, which read:
"Captain Immelman:
"I challenge you to a man-to-man fight to take place this afternoon at two o'clock. I will meet you over the German lines. Have your anti-aircraft guns withhold their fire while we decide which is the better man. The British guns will be silent.
"(Signed) Ball."
About an hour afterwards a German airman swung out across our lines and dropped Immelman's answer:
"Captain Ball:
"Your challenge is accepted. The German guns will not interfere. I will meet you promptly at two.
"(Signed) Immelman."
Just a few minutes before two, the guns on both sides ceased firing. It was as though the commanding officers had ordered a truce. Long rows of heads popped up and all eyes watched Captain Ball from behind the British lines go off into the air. A minute or two later Immelman's machine was also seen in the air.
The machines ascended in a wide circle. There were wild cheers on both sides, each for the respective champion. Captain Ball, thousands of feet above us and only a speck in the sky, was doing the craziest things imaginable. Our soldiers' cheers turned to cries of dismay. Ball was below Immelman and was apparently making no effort to get above him and thus gaining the advantage of position. On the contrary he was carelessly swinging around this way and that, attempting, it seemed, to postpone the inevitable.
We saw the German's machine dip over preparatory to starting a nose dive. "O Lord, he's gone now," cried a young soldier at my side, for he knew Immelman's gun would start its raking fire once it was being driven straight down.
Then, in less time than it takes to tell, the tables were turned. Before Immelman's plane could get into firing position, Captain Ball drove his machine into a loop. Getting above his adversary and cutting loose with his gun, he smashed Immelman by a hail of bullets as he swept by. Immelman's aeroplane burst into flames and dropped. Ball, from above, followed for a few hundred feet and then straightened out and raced for home. He settled down, rose again, and hurried back to release a huge wreath of flowers almost directly over the spot where Immelman's charred body was being lifted from a tangled mass of metal.