One night, a spirited group made their way into the bar, chased out the sullen army grunts, and commandeered the place. Even I knew who they were. The patch on their sleeve was the mark of the proud air force. A loud-mouthed middle-aged man went around announcing each pilot's results for the day and his running kill record. For those who exceeded five kills a thorough toasting-and soaking followed. I believe it was their custom to call an "Ace" once he shot down five planes. After completing the day's review, the same guy- the squadron adjutant- went on to announce, "And now for our leader's results!" Everyone turned around to look at the quiet man who sat alone, strumming a guitar. I found myself drawn to the music from his guitar. "Our Yellow Thirteen bagged three more today, bring his new tally up to sixty-four kills". With a tentative smile the man with the guitar turned to me and asked me to accompany him on my harmonica. I brought it up to my lips and he started a new song. I had finally found "him". But some fluke it was my father's favorite song the one he used to play at the end of each day.
YOU ARE READING
Shattered skies
AdventureAfter the disaster of the asteroids a war broke out between Erusea and Independent State Allied Forces. This story will be told in a boy's perspective
