"You are clear for takeoff."
How many times have I heard that?The same crackly voice, marred by static from bad signals.I hear the familiar vshhh vshhh vshhh sound as the other pilots in my squadron start their steel birds.
I know immediately when it's my turn. I push the throttle and whoosh down the runway, taking flight.
Even though the plane is supposed to feel really cold, I feel as if I'm trapped in a volcano, the flames reflected in my eyes. The hood shoved down on my dirty blond hair and blue-tinted glasses really make me look weird, especially since I'm wearing the equivalent of a parka. Today, I'm just flying around a Philippine island, or what used to be a Philippine island. On the highest hill, it is adorned with the flag of the rising sun.
This is for you, Dad. To kill the one who killed you.
I fly up and down, trying to find a limit to my reach inside this bird, trying to find a limit to the big blue sky. Around in circles, to the limits of my patrol. Just as I was about to fly in a figure eight, a spot of red caught my eye.
Finally, a target.
The little black blob maneuvers into the center of my sight, then I strain to pull the trigger. Any hesitation is a sign of weakness! But my fingers just won't move.
If I shoot, he'll be my first kill. The first covering of blood on clean hands.
My fingers crawl to the trigger, but apply minimal pressure.
Push! For your country, for your honor, for your father! Push the damn trigger!
The enemy aircraft bursts into an explosion of fire, shrapnel, and other varied pieces of metal. And of course, the dead body. Charred ashes that I struggle to see drift away, to be buried at sea. I feel nauseous, thinking that that might be the way Dad died.
Heart pounding, breath shortening, I become a pile of stressed and anxious flesh and bones in the cockpit, my thoughts failing to reassure me.
Hey, don't feel bad, you even made their death pretty! Just like a flower in the sky.
I recall Dad, patting my head after he flew during a drill. "I wanna be just like you, Daddy! I wanna be a bird so I can fly!" He had smiled and said, "You don't want to be this bird. You don't get wings."
"You are clear for takeoff."
As usual, my little bird flies up and away. Today is an ambush on them, at Midway. Hiding in the fog, this group passes almost unnoticed. Away from the sun, they saw a glint of light coming from one of our silvery planes. I don't know who, but enemy planes began flying up almost immediately. How far will we get? The fog blocks our vision, and bullets begin flying out of nowhere. From the direction the bullets are coming from, well I can't really see them, but I assume they are on our right. I fly out of the fog, little cloud trails following me.
As they begin chasing me, I fly faster and faster, towards the sea. My propeller stirs up a frothy white trail in the calm blue waters behind me. Vshhhh. I spin in my seat, spotting an enemy plane behind me, its guns beginning to aim at me.
My life flashes before my eyes.
My father patting my head.
Standing before a yellowy dusk, after my first kill.
Reaching to the sky, wanting to reach a little higher, a little further.
The first time I went out on a patrol, seeing my determined reflection in the glass.
I yank the side-stick back, and my bird flies into the sun. The plane below me shoots, and half of my left wing breaks off. I stare into the sky one last time as my plane plummets to the deep seas, bits and pieces breaking off into the sea.
The cockpit part of the plane is intact impact of the water knocks me into of the water, and my eyes close, my body enveloped in the dark waters. Bubbles drift out of my mouth and my hair reaches for the surface.
I'm floating in the sunset sky. My vision is filled with rich yellows and oranges, and I gaze into the sky again. I'm free, free of killing, free of the military, free to go wherever I want. Falling, I feel a strange sensation in my back. Something on it spreads wide and lifts me up high above the sea. Free! I spread my silver wings and flutter away into the morning sky.
He sank into the sea, the nameless warrior. Sinking into the deep waters with his plane, a smile frozen onto his sleeping face.