Michael made a move to get into the pilot's seat, when he saw Bruce headed for the rear seat.  He grabbed Bruce's arm to stop him.

"Climb down, kid!" he said angrily. "I'm doing this flight solo!"

"No, you're not!" Bruce said defiantly.  "If you go down, I go down!"

"Forget it!" Michael said, turning back to the plane.

"Who's gonna fire the gun?" Bruce yelled. "It's in the rear!"

"Hey, this isn't a democracy!" Michael said, since he had no answer for that elementary question. "Case closed!"

Bruce watched as he climbed into the cockpit, put on Ralph's helmet, and adjusted the goggles.  Then he reached uncertainly for the controls.

"Now," he said, trying to sound much more confident than he really was.  "Where's the clutch?"

Bruce let a few seconds go by.  Then he said, "It doesn't have a clutch."  He climbed into the gunner's seat.

"Smart kids give me a pain," Michael mumbled.

"Pull out the throttle," Bruce instructed.

As they taxied, Michael looked up into the sky.  The Red Baron's plane was waiting for them.  It circled overhead.  Michael thought of vultures.

The plane raced down the field, picking up speed. Michael sang out, "Remember the Maine!" 

"Wrong war again!" Bruce yelled over the sound of the engine.  Then he saw the trees up ahead.

The speed of the plane was increasing, and the space available for takeoff was decreasing.  If they weren't off the ground in a few seconds, they'd run smack into one of those trees.

"The stick!" Bruce called.

"What stick?" Michael screamed in panic.

Bruce stood up, leaned over the cockpit, and pointed. "Pull back on the stick!"

Michael did as he was told, and the plane began to rise. "OH!" Michael cried out in relief.  "That stick!"

They grazed the tops of the trees and continued rising.  Michael held the stick back with all his weight.

"I'm flying!" he sang.

The angle of the plane got sharper and sharper, until it was moving straight up.  Then it began to loop.  It suddenly turned over, so that Michael and Bruce had to look up to see the ground.

Fortunately, the Red Baron couldn't hear the groans and screams coming from the American plane.  He must've thought Hinkley was giving him a little show of his flying ability.

It was also fortunate that the plane came out of the loop on its own.  When it straightened out, Michael took control of the stick, and they flew level.

Just as he started feeling pleased with himself, they were given a reminder of why they were up there in the first place.  A round of machine gunfire tore a series of holes into the canvas on the side of the plane.

Von Richtofen blasted past them and got ready for another attack.  He was behind them now, and Bruce knelt on his seat to man the machine gun.

"Here he comes!" Bruce screeched. "Pull up!  Get above him!  Keep him off our tail!"

Michael's eyes were wide with terror as he pulled gently back on the stick.  The plane began to rise, but von Richtofen stayed right with them.

"Pull up!" Bruce yelled.

"I can't pull up anymore!"

"Then push it down!"

Michael followed the instruction, and the plane dipped.  The Baron was close behind now, and Bruce fired the machine gun.

"Shoot him!" Michael yelled.

"I am shooting him!"

"Then hit him!"

And that's just what Bruce did.  A hail of bullets shredded a section of the Red Baron's right wing.

The Baron's plane teetered from side to side.  The wing began smoking, then burst into flame.

"I got him!" Bruce cried.  "I got him!"

The Baron tipped his wings in salute to the American ace.  Then he turned and began a slow descent to safety.

Michael watched giddily as the German ace retreated.  "You did!" he yelled. "You got him!" 

He checked his Omni and grinned.  Then he held it up for Bruce to see.

"Green light, kid!" he called over his shoulder.  "History is back on course!  We did it!  We...."

His joy faded as he looked at his own left wing.   It was on fire!

The plane dipped, then went into a tailspin.  They were falling towards the ground at an incredible speed.

Michael tried every control he could get his hands on.  Nothing worked, and the plane continued to fall.

He reached his arms back.  "Hold on to me, kid!" he screamed. "Hold on!"

Bruce fought his way out of the seat and grabbed onto Michael's shoulders.  Michael struggled to set the Omni.

They were only a few feet from the ground when Michael finally pressed the Omni button.  There was a terrific jolt.  But no crash.

They fell from the sky and landed softly on a grassy knoll.  They opened their eyes and looked around.

No flames.  No crushed plane.  No blood, and no broken bones.  Just a lovely green countryside.