SpitfireMK1

His struts splintered as a trail of  7.92 calibre bullets smashed into his right wing, the pilot of the british SE5A biplane gave a shout of anger as there came a loud ripping of canvas and cracking of wood as the bottom wing tore away from the fuselage. Behind him were two German biplanes, they were so close he could see the pilots reloading their guns... He pulled back on the stick and reduced the throttle to prevent a downward spiral, the bottom right wing was gone, he was going down and their was nothing he could do to stop it. But he wasn't ready to die yet, below him the land was ablaze and smoke rose up into the grey, overcast sky.  He

Red November series will NOT be a very long series, probably will not finish it eitherfor I have much to do. "Prepare to cast off!" shouted the captain, he stood at his sub's foremast, it was a bitter November night, the north sea swelled and lashed out at the shore and the barnacle encrusted docks. "About time." thought I angrily, I was merely a worker but I helped load cargo aboard Russian navy ships and subs. Though regimes have come and gone the uniforms stayed the same, the sailors were always dressed in their black coats and black and white striped shirts, the officers were easy to spot, they were always the ones with the large fur hat

"Смерть одного человека это трагедия , смерть миллионов это статистика." Ioseph Stalin "Revolution!" , my friend from st. Petersburg rejoiced with a cheer of excitement. "revolution? Comrade that's always happened... It's happened throughout history." I wrote it off merely as just another sad