I was the last survivor of squadron twenty three. We had burnt across the night, the last act of the free. Holes riddled my wings and aviation fuel leaks. I’d been flying this formation for weeks.
I skimmed the mountain tops and caught the cities flak, we never expected friends to attack. This is the way it was in the new world. Smoke and mirrors, this history unfurled.
As the light goes out on the control panel and I draw my last breath from the oxygen tank. I close my eyes and wait for the impact, knowingly forgiving your thanks.
D Feb 2017