June 2nd 1916: My name is magic Miller, I am xx dollar bill historic period old, and I am stationed at the No.3 Naval Squadron airdrome in Fernes, France. I enlisted my services practiced devil months ago, and today I find myself in a squadron conduct by the huge British ace Raymond Collishaw! The force field is large, housing some(prenominal) contrary kinds of aircraft, from the Sopwith Camel to the Nieuport. I relieve oneself only been in the Squadron for two weeks and I have already logged five missions and countless hours of flying. Up until today, I had no encounters with resistance aircraft, as most of my missions were reconnaissance mission and did non take me inside competitor lines. Today however, was a diametrical story. I awoke to the sound of mechanics skitter around the airfield, hammering on parts of the skip and utter orders to one another. I was not aware of any missions be after for the day, so I went to Mr. Collishaws vivacious quarters to see if he knew what was going on. He state German observation b all in alloons stationed on the nominal head were giving outside our soldiery positions. Our squadron had received necessity orders to flame the balloons, as the parade were be after to excite for more ground in the coming days. It was a sultry cold morning, with the mist embrace the ground equivalent a cold blanket.
I got into the tiny cockpit of my Sopwith Camel, revved up the engine, and tested all the levers and controls. on that point was no room for geological fault at 5000 feet. As I pulled back on the throttle, my plane zipped across the distort lea runway and became airborne. As the five of us led by Collishaw gained altitude, we came into clear view of the front lines. Constant barrage make off and machine gun wake had turned... If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website:
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