The Writers' Circle

PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS NOT TRUE!

My name is Manfred von Richthofen.  I was born in Breslau, Germany on May 2, 1892.  I died in the skies over Vaux sur Somme, France on April 21, 1918.  I was 25 when I died.  I was called the 'red battle flyer' by my people, 'le petit rouge' by the French, but I was most famous for my English name, THE RED BARON.  This, this is my story.

It was a beautiful day in Breslau.  The sheep were in the fields and the market was bustling with people.  In the narrow backstreets were dodgy store holders sold there wares, a plane suddenly flew low, skimming the rooftops and scattering the occasional pigeon.  Behind it was another plane, a French plane, firing off a machine gun at everything that got in its way.

I was in that plane.  I was being shot at so I had to make a quick decision.  I flew straight up; I only hoped that my baby could take it.  It took the French pilot by surprise.  Thinking that I was mad, he stayed low in wait, knowing that I would have to come down.

I also knew that it was suicidal, and cursed myself for my stupidity.  I knew that flying straight up would destroy the plane and decided that I had to go down.  What happened then happened fast.  I was shot in the engine.  I prayed to any god who would here me to give me a safe landing.  They did.  There was a canal below.  I knew that if I landed the plane in the canal and jumped out then I would survive.  I tilted the plane towards the canal and jumped out, only to find that my parachute would not work. I reached 500ft, 400ft, and 350ft and finally it came out, but to late.  I hit the water hard.  The plane crashed beside the canal and I was sinking, deeper and deeper.  Then I was flying upwards in the water.  Then I was overtaken by a fresh sweep of dark, cold, ghoulish darkness.