The Battle of Britain Five Months That Changed History, May—October 1940 by James Holland (z-lib.org).epub

Günther recognized them immediately as French Curtiss fighters. Seeing
Ehrlich dive down on the French leader, Günther pulled his own aircraft
into a steep dive and within seconds was sitting on the tail of one of the
French leader’s two wingmen. The French pilot immediately wrenched his
Curtiss into a sharp turn, but not before Günther, having made a splitsecond
judgement of distance and aim-off, opened fire and felt his
Messerschmitt judder as bullets and cannon shells spat from his guns. The
Curtiss was burning, but no sooner had Günther seen this than a loud clatter
raked across his own plane. Gripped by a feeling of pure terror, he realized
he had almost been shot down in turn by the French top cover. Hurling his
plane around the sky in a desperate attempt to throw off his attacker, he
made one turn so violent and steep that the automatic leading edge slots
popped out of the wing and the Messerschmitt violently dropped as if it had
been whiplashed. Günther cursed, but in truth, it had probably saved his
life.
Suddenly, the sky was empty. As soon as he was able to pull his plane
out of its involuntary dive he cast his head around, desperately looking for
the rest of the Staffel. Sweat poured down his face from under his leather
flying helmet; his heart pounded madly. He wondered whether his machine
was still airworthy. A glance at the instruments in front of him calmed him:
oil okay, coolant okay; fuel not obviously leaking. Temperature and
pressure gauges normal, but the response to the control column was
sluggish. He knew he needed to get her down soon – he had been flying for
nearly an hour and after the intensity of the brief combat, the fuel tanks
would soon be dry, even without being punctured.
With the rush of adrenalin seeping away, he managed to calm down and
gather his bearings. Behind him on his port side was the setting sun. Below,
he could now make out a small river and several large areas of water. They
were familiar: he had to be somewhere near Sarrebourg in western Lorraine.
Soon he would be over German territory. Breathing a sigh of relief, he
headed to Mannheim.
It was at 7.15 p.m., and over an hour and a half after first taking off, that
he finally touched down. After quickly refuelling, he took off again and
eventually landed at their airfield at Ippesheim at around half-past eight,
just as the light was fading for the day. There he reported to Ehrlich, who
had been back some time, and learned that another of the pilots had seen