Dogfight With lots of ‘aeroplanes’--- buzzing ‘bout the sky, Our only way of staying safe was “keep a roving eye”. Instruction from the front seat was given loud and clear; “If you see something I don’t see-- shake the stick-- so both can peer!” Sitting under our upper wing, his upward view--in doubt; This trainer spinning down on us-- might fit, what he’d spoke about. Anyway, I rocked the stick and pointed up above, He whirled and glanced--then took control--the throttle took a shove. A vertical turn was then employed and we quickly closed the space; He was out to show these other guys; we weren’t the plane to chase! Once he’d flown a fighter-- and he hated this new role; This teaching primary’s, raw cadets was eating at his soul. “Dog fights” did get mentioned in the course rules that we used, “That all cadets caught doing them---permanently excused!” Well, both these planes held officers, and both were out to show, That when it came to chasing tails--the other’s skill was low. He kept that yellow fuselage, just yards beyond our prop! Sky and ground kept merging; and they did it without a stop! The roaring of the engine, and the screaming of the wires; Made me wonder what I’d started, when I lit this warrior’s fires. Forced; then flung; then shoved aside-as the “G” loads changed their place; My hands stayed near a ring called “D” and my lap belt---just in case! Finally, tiring of the game,-- we calmly flew away; Returned control to my woozy eyes, without a word to say. There never was a comment when we did our post-flight talk. It was as if it never happened!-- his textbook Stearman stalk. I was sure the other dual would be keeping quiet too, But I’ll bet they worked on “clearing turns"--the next time that they flew! Bill Woodall