Det Var En Gång

"Frank Sinatra med låten Once Upon A Time"
 
Det var en gång för länge länge sen....nu skriver jag ett inlägg helt och hållet i engelska, då detta är nått jag har jobbat på med väldigt väldigt länge. Suck! Tursamt nog så behöver jag bara klippa och klistra så är det klart :-P
 
English Special:
 
Once upon a time, a long long time ago, this post will be almost entirely in English, as this is something I have been working on for a great many years. Sigh! >.<! Luckily enough, I just need to copy and paste and it is done :-P It is a little piece out of a book that I had planned to finish before my death so to speak. I doubt if it ever will be, as ideas are like trickling water. When the going gets tough it peters out!
 
To the start.
 
Ann, Helga and Simon were planning a long road trip together. The year was 1943 and the second world war was in its 3rd year for these three misfits. Ann had been Helga's friend ever since she could remember. They met in Sweden on holiday in Stockholm and Helga had then in time moved to London where she had met Simon, who by this time was a Spitfire pilot in the RAF. Just that morning they had been discussing what had happened to John Marley, another pilot that was in the USAAF flying the B17 bombers over Germany. Just the week before he had been caught in heavy flak over Dresden and returned to base with holes the size of soccerballs in the wings and tail, and Jimmy Stoker had caught a round in his leg, making him eligable to go home.
 
Now on his 13th mission John had looked forward to trying to skip biting the bullet. The 13th mission to a destination unknown until they were halfway over the English channel. This however would prove to be the number 13 that so many fear. Simon was flying cover beside John's "Bell Of The Skies" when out of the sun behind the clouds a ME109 and his squadron of marauders appeared out of nowhere. Simon broke hard right and pulled back on the stick in a wide circle trying to get altitude as fast as possible and get in behind the gerry. John, who by now almost felt unbothered by this situation kept flying straight and true toward the Dutch coast just north of Amsterdam. Somehow he had a gutt feeling that this would be his last mission until the end of the war. Little did he know that this was to be his greatest feat of the war, making the rest of the bombing runs almost dreary.
 
Simon had by now caught up to his adversary in a semi steep dive towards the sea and gave him a few rounds in the tail which made the German lose concept of position in the sky and nosedived straight into the drink with a thunderous splash that for some reason or other seemed to go on forever. Looking back over his shoulder Simon saw yet another coming in from behind him so he rolled over on his back and did an outward half roll, cutting the German off half way riddling him with bullets under his belly and engine. There was a strong flash and for a second Simon was blinded by the light of the unexpected explosion. Partly disorientated he had to head for home to refuel and rearm.
 
John sighed a sigh of relief when he realized that Simon and his mates actually had managed to stave off the largest brunt of this attack and up to know they had only lost 3 of the squads 17's. They were lucky to come home he thought, when over 20 of his group of 30 had been shot down in the last run.
 
Back on dry land and back at home base Simon got out of his plane and then realized how lucky he had been. All the adrenalin had held him at his peak performance and unwittingly drowned any apprehensions he might have had that he would possibly get shot down. As he climbed out of the cockpit he saw out of the corner of his eye Helga come running over to the Spitfire with wide eyes of disbelief at the sight of the damage. At that moment Simon saw what she saw, because just behind where he had been sitting was a gaping huge whole straight through the fuselage. With a sigh of relief he hugged Helga and tried lightheartedly calm her down by asking what was for dinner. She laughed and slapped him playfully on his shoulder and said "you bugger." They headed to the debriefing room where they were met by Staton who was base commander. Helga had to sit and wait outside the door until Simon was done. At that moment her friend Ann came in through the door with a somber face, telling Helga that John had been shot down just north of Eindhoven. (excert out of my book to be, "The War Of The Loved Ones" ©Andreas Viasson, Sweden.
 
Godnatt och Godmorgon från Bloggen.
 
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Kategorier: boken - dag för dag (offentlig dagbok)