Rick Rawlings
No 24 Squadron
Nov 17, 1916
Bertangles West

We are assassins now. As winter approaches, the days grow short. I took a flight up for a line patrol at four o'clock and the sun was already sinking. We wandered back and forth along the front until it was starting to get dark and then we swung back behind the lines trying to catch anyone coming home. As we passed over one enemy airfield, two Albatros scouts gamely took off to engage us. One had an engine failure and landed in a nearby field. I gave the signal and we dropped on the other. I came in behind him and fired until his wings fell off and his engine caught fire. I hope he was dead before that. Kill confirmed.

The older I get, the more I realize I don't need to be Han, Luke or Leia. I'm just happy to be rebel scum...