Stanley's fate was described in Immelmann's diary;
On September 21st, my birthday, I took off at 9 a.m. in my Fokker monoplane. I had no special orders, but wanted to protect a machine of our section which was putting our artillery on to newly located objectives by telegraphic signals. These artillery fliers are often disturbed by enemy fighters and must then retreat, because their only weapons are automatic carbines.
So I make arrangements with the crew of the other machine about the spot where we shall cruise. At 9.45. a.m. I fly my circles over Neuville village, as agreed. I am 3,100 metres up, and cannot see the other machine, which has arranged to climb to 2,500. That does not matter; it will certainly be there. The only trouble is that I cannot see it; probably masked by my wings. I go round and round, for a whole hour. The business begins to be a bit boring.
For a long time I have been looking out on my right; when I peer out to the left again, I see - quite close behind me on my left - a Bristol biplane which is heading straight for me. We are still 400 metres apart.
Now I fly towards him; I am about 10-12 metres above him. And so I streak past him, for each of us had a speed of 120 kilometres an hour. After passing him I go into a turn. When I am round again, I find he has not yet completed his turning movement. He is shooting fiercely from his rear. I attack him in the flank, but he escapes from my sights for a while by a skilful turn.
Several seconds later I have him on my sights once more. I open fire at 100 metres, and approach carefully. But when I am only 50 metres away, I have difficulty with my gun. I must cease for a time. Meanwhile I hear the rattle of the enemy's machine gun and see plainly that he has to change a drum after every 50 rounds. By this time I am up to within 30 or 40 metres of him and have the enemy machine well within my sights. Aiming carefully, I give him about another 200 rounds from close quarters, and then my gun is silent again. One glance shows me I have no more ammunition left. I turn away in annoyance, for now I am defenceless. The other machine floes off westward, i.e., homeward.
I am just putting my machine into an eastward direction, so that I can go home too, when the idea occurs to me to fly a round of the battlefield first, for otherwise my opponent might think he had hit me. There are three bullets in my machine. I look round for my 'comrade of the fray', but he is no longer to be seen. I am still 2,500 metres up, so that we have dropped 600 in the course of our crazy turns.
At last I discover the enemy. He is about 1,000 metres below me. He is falling earthward like a dead leaf. He gives the impression of a crow with a lame wing. Sometimes he flies a bit and then falls a bit. So he has got a dose after all. Now I also drop down and continue to watch my opponent. It seems as if he wants to land.
And now I see plainly that he is falling. A thick cloud rises from the spot where he crashes, and then bright flames break out of the machine. Soldiers hasten to the scene. Now I catch my first glimpse of the biplane I intended to protect. It is going to land. So I likewise decide to land, and come down close to the burning machine. I find soldiers are attending to one of the inmates. He tells me he is the observer. He is an Englishman. When I ask him where the pilot is, he points to the burning machine. I look, and he is right, for the pilot lies under the wreckage - burnt to a cinder.