This is kinda cheesy because its for our school writing contest, so no reference to drugs, alcohol, or violence, and no swears but i am hoping its still ok.
When I signed the papers I never expected anything like this to happen. I thought war was glorious, fun even, but I was wrong, so wrong it’s not even laughable. One signature and I’m off to England, immersed in the frontline of combat. It’s funny how something so simple can change so much.
Right now, I am sitting in my top gunner turret trying to get my teeth to stop chattering. I try to take deep breaths but the frigid air is making it hard to do anything other than freeze. How ironic would it be if we die from exposure before we even drop our bombs? Luckily, our air force issued jackets, and caps keep out enough cold to keep us somewhat functioning. I can hear the captain over my headset “Get ready for heavy flak off to the right, Charlie.” I quickly turned to my right, my numb fingers gripping my machine, and swept the ground with my eyes looking for anti-aircraft turrets. From three thousand feet you could see for miles over occupied Belgium.
“Target should be about a mile ahead.”, states our to-the-point navigator, Chip. My grip tightens on my gun as I look for enemy aircraft, no doubt the Germans have spotted us and have already sent bandits up to shoot us down before we could drop our load. “I have one blip,” our wireless operator says, “ two spots on the pond, wait, four…..six….eight! They’re everywhere! Take evasive action! Now!” He screams. Suddenly, the plane banks sharply to the right, and then dives. I clung to my turret for dear life, not wanting to slide off my seat and leave our top defenceless. “Top and bottom gunner, stay sharp, get your claws out.” Our pilot says calmly, I’m pretty sure he is the only one, right now, who can speak at a regular volume. “I have visuals on our target” he continues, making another bank to stay away from the imposing fighters “Are the bombs ready?” our operator quickly answers “ready and fused, Cap” But he is cut off by the sound of gun fire. I swerve sideways, firing my gun as small plane darts beside us. I can just see the first line of bullets leave its front, accompanied by ear-splitting booms, as it passes us. We bank again, to the left this time, but are hit by a barrage of bullets.
Over the headset I can hear the frantic engineer and captain make anxious comments back and forth, the engineer’s voice rising into a shout, while the captain voice still stays rock solid. I am vaguely aware of the fact that one of our engines is down, as well as our elevators, but focus mainly at shooting the planes that surround us. I desperately don’t want to become a member of the caterpillar club, those whose planes are too damaged and have to parachute onto occupied ground. I turn sharply to find one of the plane going down in flames, and realize that my gun had inflicted the damage, feeling far too scared to have any sense of gratification, my thoughts turn to our target just ahead.
I can now see the large city that will soon be flattened, but I have to turn and stay alert for more of the fighter planes. I hear the engineer countdown and the jerk of the plane as the bombs are released. For a short second there is complete silence, on the head set, from the fighters, on the ground, but it is shattered by the explosions of the bombs on impact with the ground. There is nothing the fighters can do now other than take one plane from the air force, I suppose they decide their odds are small and I see them peel away from us. I let out the breath that I realize I’ve been holding as we start our journey home.
