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Death of an airman

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Death of an airman I crawled frantically underneath the deck, desperately hunting for that last fuel tank, that might keep us airborne for a few more hours. "Its too late!" screamed one of the pilots, "we'll have to make an emergency landing" "NO" I cried, "there must be some more fuel". More trying to repress my own fears than anything else; only the reassuring sound of the engine kept me straining to find some way to save us. The sound of silence swept the plane, my heart skipped a beat as I heard the engine expire. All thought left me as I sat underneath the deck, hardly daring to believe what was happening. Overhead I could hear the desperate, panic-stricken horror of my co-pilots and friends as they struggled to keep the plane under control, but all was lost, and our flight was cut down as we plummeted into foreign lands. And to death. I was brought back into consciousness by the severe pain that wracked my body, I attempted to move and let out a cry as I felt metal sear through my flesh. ...read more.


Once again I sat there, weeping over my fallen friends, and my own gut wrenching pain. I had lost a lot of blood at this point, which crawled along the floor to make the snow that was begging to set, a livid red. The coldness of the harsh weather, mixed with the loss of blood sent me into a fever. I began hallucinating. I could hear my children laughing and playing, in our gardens, my wife and two daughters were so far away but it was as if they were there with me. The laughter of my children soon turned into screams, as spasms of pain tore into my broken body once more, all of what I could see turned to darkness and all I could hear in my head was the echoing, screaming torment of my children burning through my head. I awoke to the sound of voices; the irrevocable pain that had once wracked my body now was a dull throb of my remaining blood, with an occasional paroxysm of torture. I could hear two female voices in foreign accents, and in my excitement at my fortuity I tried to crawl towards the sound, forgetting even the metal that punctured my corpse. ...read more.


My wife was tall and dark haired, like her daughter she had an impish, playful face. I had not seen her in four years though I doubted she had changed, she was always a strong woman who had protested fiercely against the war, and nearly was imprisoned for it. I had lost all concept of time, but reckoned that I must have been there for at least a day, although I had been in and out of consciousness so I wasn't entirely certain. As I was dreaming of my family and my homeland I heard a voice, it sounded like one of the woman I heard earlier, this time I did not try to move, but attempted to call for help in the small amount of the English language I knew. I knew what I wanted to say, but all that came through my parched lips was a faint murmur. This was insufficient to attract the woman, and after a while, I heard her footsteps fade away and I fell into despair again. As the hours went the last reserves of my strength were gradually taken away I could hear my wife's voice calling to me, until my mind left me and I was engulfed in darkness. ...read more.

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