And when he died, then that enemy would also die.

It was good the enemy died in the fields they had destroyed.

At least one more enemy would have died with him.

I felt a surge of exultation as my enemy died.

He had always believed his enemy died in the wreckage of the crash.

May our enemies die like the dogs they are.

Friends and enemies die around me, but I go on.

Our enemies must die, but these two shall live to fight another day.

He'd always hoped he would live to see his old enemy die.

I guess, long ago, there used to be some gratification from having your worst enemy die in front of you.