Around and around we went. Sometimes the FW got in close, and other times, when I'd drop my flap to tighten my turn, I was in a position to fire; but the German, sensing my superior position, kept swinging down in his turn, gaining speed and quickly pulling up, and with the advantage in height he would then pour down on my tail.
"Never turn your back on an enemy" was a byword with us, but I had no choice. Turning the plane over on its back I yanked the stick to my gut. My throttle was wide open and I left it there as I dove. The needle stopped at 600 miles per — that was as far as it could go on the dial.