iron

we fought against the ****

but they won in the end

we went inland

away from the coast

do you see the mountain there?

we gotta climb that

up we went

we found a crashed american plane

and the pilot

we buried him by the wreck near a big tree
we found his wallet with a calling card

we were the last to see him for decades

his location became a mystery

so many looked for him and his plane

the lost american air ace

who defended bataan from the ****

over a dozen teams and expeditions

they found his nemesis first

the smashed *** plane and pilot

For a moment, ours souls brushed passed in our sleep
laying down together, I asked you

“When we wake, will you remember me?
This feels so real, what constitutes for reality?”

ARMED ASSAULT FIGHTER

Small, agile and with awesome power, that’s the assault jet.

They do a specialist job, very dangerous and especially risky,

yet the pilots are proud and brave and they’re prepared to die for their cause,

their homeland, their squadron.

From the Skyhawk blooded in Vietnam, Israel and the Falklands to the Jaguar used so fiercely in two Gulf wars, it takes a special kind of pilot to attack a missile site and to fly so low.

Watch out for the ground! Hit that and you’re history.

It’s all pilot skill battling Migs and flying between valleys to the target area

if you hit the target you’ve still got to get home.

Yes, you certainly need ***** and a lot of skill to fly an assault jet.

RUFE

A late summer pacific sun burns down on this tiny coral atoll, here are three Zero floatplanes codename Rufe. They share such a common beauty that all warbirds have. Waves gently wash over the floats of the planes, resting in the cool and calm of the ocean. Delicate pastel colours colour the scene, the purple of the planes and orange of the sun, the blue of the sea.

In a few minutes a Rufe will take off, building up speed through the mirror smooth water until she is free of the blue liquid surface, she will be in flight in her sky where so much danger lurks. Hellcats and Corsairs.

Rufe has the handling of her Zero brother so she will be okay –

she is a bird of the summer sky battling her enemy.

AURORA

I’m in my stealth jet circling the planet at mach 25,
every minute means a new orbit, light into dark,
dark into light as no one can stop me, I’m ever so fast.
I ain’t human, I ain’t alien, I ain’t a ghost, I’m the Aurora,
the spirit of the northern skies on a speeding flight
to the heavens in my silver skinned craft,
as streamlined as a bullet and as graceful as a swan.

boeing 747-700x
they say that size doesn't matter
but i disagree with them
and say they're full of ****
size DOES matter
this is why i fly my jet
a boeing 747-700x
my baby is f8cking huge
a touch under 280ft long
i can carry hundreds of people
all around the world
flying in luxury in my jet
served by **** air hostesses
with bruce dickenson my co-pilot
take it from me size does matter
and yes my jet is big and black

Natalie. Battle Maiden
Flying the Skyhawk was easy. Learning tactics wasn't. Aerial refuelling was hard, as was formation flying. Natalie grew up and lost her girliness. Inside she was a woman. Her view on the government remained. Should she bomb the junta in her plane? Thoughts of that were brushed aside when she was deployed near the Chilean border when tension increased in the long running border dispute.
Flying three armed patrols convinced Chile to stop sabre rattling and withdraw her soldiers. Nat was gaining experience. Public opinion was turning against the government, an ongoing crisis that needed expert handling. War was the answer. Not with Chile but in the Malvinas.
An army, armed to the teeth, sailed and was flown out. British resistance was subdued and Argentina took the Malvinas. Natalie and her squadron were on standby for action. Britain retaliated and UK ships headed south. Nat trained in anti ship attack. Soon her skills would be needed.
People were behind the war. Not questioning about The Disappeared or how to get rid of the evil junta. The Malvinas were finally ours and a joyous mood overtook many people. In the military, it was different. A real fight would soon erupt. The Brits were coming and Nat was scared. What had she got herself into?
Training continued and there was no time for her band, seeing her friends or little else. Not even secretly discussing how to help make the government fall with her fellow activists. It was a fine line of madness. An Argentine air force jet pilot with illegal views and rebellion songs.

She could change the history of her country, Argentina, forever. If she dropped a few bombs on the leaders, it was over. The new war, The Disappeared, the fear. All of it. Could she do it? Would she? Nat knew where the leaders were and would strike on her next armed training mission. Fate stopped her. Events moved quickly and the young warrior woman never had chance.