My grandfather was an army pilot during the Second World War. He has told many stories about the various battles and plight of the people he saw. Some of the stories sounded so horrible that they didn’t seem plausible. I remember one story very well because the plot was filled with excitement and action, sorrow and joy.
He told me that when the war started, he and the other men pledged to fight hard for the country. He and the other pilots were eager to start flying and see action in the war, but they were told to wait far from the enemy lines and wait for their orders. My grandfather said that this waiting was the polar opposite from what he expected to be doing. Every day, he pleaded with his commanders to let him fly and take part in the action of the war, but they always said no and told him to go and polish his plane.
One afternoon while he was swimming in a swimming pool, another pilot pointed at sky. There were dozens of German planes plunging to towards the area my grandfather was in like a plague of locusts. My grandfather didn’t sit around and ponder what to do; he immediately grabbed his pile of clothes and ran to his plane. Before he took off, he took a picture of his wife out of his pocket and kissed it for good luck.
Once in the air, he started shooting at the plague of German airplanes. Some of his shots pierced the German planes, and they would blow up in plural explosions as both engines caught fire. After shooting down or chasing away most of the enemy aircraft, my grandfather started to head back for his base, but discovered that a hold had been shot in his gas tank. He had no way to plug it from the air and he knew soon he would run out of gas. His plane started going down and when it crashed, it caused a big pit to form in the ground. My grandfather wasn’t sure if he was still alive so he poked and pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dead.
After the war was over, the other pilots in my grandfather’s company took a poll to see who was the bravest, and my grandfather won. The general of his division pinned a medal of honor on his jacket.
He told me that when the war started, he and the other men pledged to fight hard for the country. He and the other pilots were eager to start flying and see action in the war, but they were told to wait far from the enemy lines and wait for their orders. My grandfather said that this waiting was the polar opposite from what he expected to be doing. Every day, he pleaded with his commanders to let him fly and take part in the action of the war, but they always said no and told him to go and polish his plane.
One afternoon while he was swimming in a swimming pool, another pilot pointed at sky. There were dozens of German planes plunging to towards the area my grandfather was in like a plague of locusts. My grandfather didn’t sit around and ponder what to do; he immediately grabbed his pile of clothes and ran to his plane. Before he took off, he took a picture of his wife out of his pocket and kissed it for good luck.
Once in the air, he started shooting at the plague of German airplanes. Some of his shots pierced the German planes, and they would blow up in plural explosions as both engines caught fire. After shooting down or chasing away most of the enemy aircraft, my grandfather started to head back for his base, but discovered that a hold had been shot in his gas tank. He had no way to plug it from the air and he knew soon he would run out of gas. His plane started going down and when it crashed, it caused a big pit to form in the ground. My grandfather wasn’t sure if he was still alive so he poked and pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t dead.
After the war was over, the other pilots in my grandfather’s company took a poll to see who was the bravest, and my grandfather won. The general of his division pinned a medal of honor on his jacket.