Post Traumatic Spitfire Disorder
Spitfire, Spitfire, Burning bright
The buzzing of the engine shook my body numb, made my ears ring, and made my breath shaky. I loved every second of it. The loud sound of the bomb carrier me and at least seventeen other planes escorted rang out loud as it's far larger propellers sliced through the high altitude air. The constant voices on the radio of "Copy that" and "Spotted the Luftwaffe?" Rang out constantly in my ringing ears. I scanned the clear, beautiful, cloudless skies. Filled with my allied mustangs and spitfires as we headed out to make a glorious bombing run on the German airbase.
As we all made a hard left a familiar alarm rang our from down below. Now we got some action, some fun, a change to blow up some of those damned German "Luftwaffe" planes! "WHOO!" I shouted as I heard the other planes start to ready their guns. Black dots rode toward us in the distance. This was gonna be fun. As the smaller planes sped up to defend our bomber, the black dots took the shape of the dull grey, crossed, German air force. The talking over the radio got excited now "Who's ready to blow up some Germans!??!" Rang one voice.
"Me!" Sang the replies in unison. The planes barreled forward. My gut began to feel queasy. Did I love blowing up Nazi bastards? HELL YES! Did I love wondering if I was gonna crash? HELL NO! As adrenaline began to pump through my veins, I watched the planes draw nearer and nearer, I watched my speedometer, wondering why I was so slow. Or at least it felt that way. Finally, they were withing dog-fighting range. I pulled up quickly to go it for a dive attack on the first plane that would come into range, unfortunately, at least for the Germans, it was a Ta 150. I dove down, minding the G-force.
As My plane shot down at what seemed like lightning speed, I pressed the triggers, clack, clack, bang, and the German went down in flames, I smiled, satisfied with the kill. Barely a dent in my ammo load, I pulled straight, and flew forward to the main bulk of the Luftwaffe planes. I then proceeded to single out, encircle, and destroy two more planes, when I heard terrible news. Over the radio rang "Mcall! two Luftwaffe one your ass, they're out of our range!" Hearing my name, I began to panic, I felt the German bullets nail my wings, thankfully, not hitting the engines. But, that's when more flew by.
As I tried and tried again to out maneuver the German pilots, I was again and again out gunned and out manned. I knew this would be it for my old spitfire, but I wasn't going down without a fight. I did a quick turn, and flew head on for the German pilots. I closed my eyes as I pulled the triggers, listening to my MG's and cannons unload, unfortunately for me, they separated, and the sound of gunfire rang out again. Bullets pierced the cockpit and one went clean through my leg, I winced in searing pain as I held my leg with one hand. At least it had gone clean through.
I tried with the strength I had left to keep flying, but bullet by bullet my plane became weakened, and I eventually lost a wing, I went into a spiral. As I struggled for control, I spun, faster and faster. The ground was approaching fast. I ejected. As I was flung from the plane, I reached for my parachute, and pulled it. As the layers of cloth unfolded, I began to float rather than plummet. I watched my spitfire crash to the ground, I felt tears well up. My favorite plane, ruined by those damned Luftwaffe. I shed a few tears before a loud and startling noise rose above me.
A plane, definitely German, flew at me, and opened fire. Lucky me, I wasn't hit, unlucky me, It blew quite a few holes in the parachute, and I plummeted down toward the ground. Right before I hit it, everything went black.
