The Start Of World War Three | Teen Ink

The Start Of World War Three

January 21, 2009
By Anonymous

(“Lt. Freeman this is tower two.” the radio declared. “The Russians are blowing up the fuel reserves like a kid popping balloons. I want you to get your men over there now before we loose even more!” “Yes sir!” I yelled into the radio, James, Lee, Steve, get in formation were going to the fuel reserves! The battle had been raging on for hours before suddenly the sounds slowly became realistic.)

As voices slowly faded into my awakening consciousness, and the sputtering then roars of planes starting up, awoke me. I swiftly rolled off my standard issue military cot and took a few almost drunk looking steps toward the sink. The iron faucet handle was cold as I turned the rusty knob. The cold water against my face felt good, similar to the time you were so cold your mom made spiced cider. Mmm, Cider sounded good right about now. My roommate 1st Lt. James Everheart was just waking up. James was about four inches taller than me and has the usual blond hair and blue eyes. James also has abs the size of muffins, biceps the size of my head and a girlfriend back home. All of which I did not have. He was his high school quarterback, Valedictorian, and a track star. All I want to know is how someone like this could be in the service.

We hastily dressed into our newly sewn flight suits and then went to the mess hall. The building that the mess area was in had been at this base since before the base was here. The mess hall was a B-B-Q restaurant before it operated for the base. The mess hall was packed with pilots running every which way trying to acquire food and get out fast. We jumped into the commotion to be forced on all sides directly toward the food table. “Nice” I commented, “Cold bagels, biscuits and rubber-like eggs, just what I want.” As we left, a coconut fell from a tree not twenty yards to our left. The coconut landed with a dull sound against the sand. There, luminously glimmering in the early morning sun, standing not fifty yards away stood my P-38 lightning named “Apollo’s Hunter”. This was my plane, the plane that the military had given me for training, but I had done so well they now let me use it for combat. James got a brand new P-51 that he named “The Checkered Devil” because the first three feet of the nose was checkered yellow and black. His plain was also gleaming in the early sun. I climbed into my cockpit nervously because this was our first test mission. James gave me a thumbs up before he sped down the runway, I fallowed suite. In the air I spotted my friends Lt. Lee Robinson in his jet black P-38, and 1st Lt. Steve Forest inside of his brand new navy blue P-51.

The planes slowly came into a formation. The instructions came in over the radio, and after we had completed the task, we got a rating. There were five tasks; the first was to shoot a non-moving plane off of the radar tower. The second was similar but the piece of cardboard was on a moving plane. Each time the plane would do more advanced stuff making it harder to shoot. In the end I scored a solid ninety-four, James a ninety-two, Lee a ninety-three, and lastly Steve who received a ninety. We swiftly landed to re-fuel and eat before we went back up for part two of the exam. This time we entered the mess hall it was near empty, there was the usual group in the back corner but that was about it. There was spilled orange soda on the floor, and the ghastly smell of a cigar slowly burning. We ate in silence, all of us not wanting to end the good curse.

I still remember taking the last sip from my orange soda when suddenly, but loudly, the alarms started to make long uncontrolled wails. Lee asked if we should run and jump into our planes as instructed in training or just sit, we did not answer, the planes answered for us. As soon as we exited the building we were defended from the sound of thousands of planes some starting up, and some engines already straining from being in the air. While the four of us sprinted hastily across the flight line, I stole a quick glance at the planes above and was denied the sight of the sky there were so many planes.

The author's comments:
My Dad is a fighter piolet so i have always been facinated by old war planes.

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