plane poems

KAHLIA AKASHA FLIES

 

She was just as beautiful but flew so much faster, a Russian pagan maiden battle ready with the looks of a Goddess and the power of a God. Nothing was able to stop her unlike what had happened to her fallen sister. Warplane designers had been acting in secret conniving together to create the most beautiful weapon ever designed. Fitted with an engine out a late mark Mig 29, she was oh so awesome and deadly with the same weapons, twice as fast and a rate of climb eight times that her prop sister. Noting would be able to catch this new maiden of the heavens, she intended to catch her opponents and destroy them without mercy or valour. Such was modern chivalry in no holds barred combat. She plied her trade with medium range Axe Head fire and forget missiles, backed up by short range Bright Star weapons and for a close range knife fight in a phone box, a twin barrel 30mm cannon gave intimate death. Weapons aimed by radar, infrared and laser. Not even God was this offensively well equipped. For defence she had stealth design and coating including materials and paint, passive and active jammers and countermeasures and if this failed extreme performance and agility. A ballerina armed with a chain gun and the will to use it. Methodically tested, the only thing lacking was a war to use her skills in; this came more rapidly than they dreamed of. Tides of fate moved and battle soon commenced allowing Kahlia Akasha a second chance to vindicate her prowess in war; the stage was set for a show down…

 

SOVIET FREEDOM?

Alesha get out! Get out of the plane she is breaking up! screams the pilot while the thunderstorm lifts up his powerful Ilyushin bomber like it was a toy. We’re caught in a thunderstorm with no way out. I fear this is it! Alesha get out!                                                                                                                                  

 

With my own eyes I saw the outer wing break off after hearing the snap, the other snap must have been the tail coming off. Controls are useless in my hands. G-forces punishing us, this is it life or death. Time to go and leave my crippled plane, hope my mates get out coz I’m off now! Struggling to jump out of the stricken plane, I see the wing and tail are gone. No way could I fly that, hope Alesha made it and what’s his name in the front?

 

Stalin asked why his bombers couldn’t cross the Baltic States to bomb the Germans. They broke up in severe thunderstorms, one of the few times Stalin was defeated. Not even he could beat the weather.

 

SUNKEN SOVIET

They broke up in thunderstorm. Fell to earth in bits. In 1964 the bomber was found by a woodcutter, along with the body of the navigator. He died for his country.                                                                    

 

Like many other nameless Russian personnel, his grave was lonely and forgotten. Many thousands of other lost planes lie waiting to be found in all types of terrain - entombed in ice, buried in sand, high up on mountains and deep under the sea. They belong to all nations.                                                                                                          

 

Most of the crew were young, died. How sad. Some, the lucky ones, are found, in ruined planes with dead crews. I quietly remember them & pay my respects.

 

AMERICAN MIGS

 

We lost Hugh. Flying such a beautiful little airplane in a blue desert sky, what a nice handling jet. Do what you want with her but no high speed turns too tight, might hit invisible wall in the sky. Dogfight every American jet fighter built none can beat the Mig17 Fresco. Turn on a dime, Russia did this almost right. Ultimate aggressor trainer, what better than to fly and fight against real Soviet/Russian jets?

 

Hugh lost control and entered a death spiral, lazy desert sky a kid’s spinning top. Almost recovered, entered a second fatal spin. Hit hard desert ground, dead. Due to his secret squadron flying Migs, the pilots had to dig their mate with his smashed crushed body out of the ground themselves and recover the wrecked jet.

 

Then tell Linda, his wife, we lost Hugh. He died in an F-5, you now a widow and your kids orphans. Decades passed before the fate of the lost pilot came out, truth denied to his family for so many years. What they did for our Cold War freedom, Mig aggressor pilots. Ultra secret flight to train allied pilots to fight the Russians. Some died. But not in an F-5...

 

WITCH

 

Always love a witch because no lady is more pure in her heart or closer to nature, especially my pretty lil witch who pinched my Northrop F-20 Tigershark jet and flew up into the clouds, looped around the moon, rolled under a rainbow and flew faster than an angel chasing the sunset. I want my witch to bring back my jet. I must get a 2 seat F-20 so next time so I can keep an eye on my kooky witch.

 

 

NO8 CHINESE PROSPERITY

 

On holiday in Taiwan enjoying a break on the west coast, fine five star hotel, great scenery, nice beach and pretty gals. Two weeks of bliss at a new holiday destination. Little was I aware that Red China was about to plan her invasion to unite her renegade province by force. Recent jet air combats left an uneasy peace with Taiwan the victor.

 

I got up at dinnertime after a long heady night out, to see short range rockets hit the train station. Huge blasts ruptured the sky, knocking me senseless. Medium range missiles thundered inland hitting hell knows what. Taiwanese jet fighters rose in their dozens form their bases and headed west. Distant explosions rocked the blue summer Asian sky. What do I do as the air attack sirens sound?