The poor little Camel noses abruptly over, as tracers fly around you. There's an awful quiet, then your fuel tank explodes. The nitrate soaked cotton erupts around you and your cockpit becomes a personal hell.

The heat is awful. Weeping with pain and regret, you roll the plane upside down, apologize mentally to your mother for your next act, then release the four point harness, gratefully falling out into the cold morning air.

In the following seven and a half seconds, you reflect that it's really a very beautiful morning.