his left hand like a frantic pendulum , switching between the control column and the throttle , constantly doing whatever he could to keep the nose of the aircraft from dipping , then glancing from side to side to make sure that his wing tips were level with the horizon , his eyes lingering for painful instances on the gaping wound in the leading edge of his starboard wing , which was haemorrhaging fuel never mind having to keep an eye out for enemy aircraft which could pick off a stricken kite like his .