Find the enemy and shoot him down. Anything else is nonsense.
In the heat of the Russian summer a sleeping car is the most horrible instrument of martyrdom imaginable.
The murder of a man is still murder, even in wartime.
I honored the fallen enemy by placing a stone on his beautiful grave.
Whatever Boelcke told us was taken as Gospel!
If I should come out of this war alive, I will have more luck than brains.