Ballet of Battle

The sound of engines fills the air. The sun glints off of the silver bomber's wings. A thousand aircraft are all flying to deliver Armageddon upon their target. A man aboard one Flying Fortress sits in his top gunner position, shivering with cold through his insulated mittens and heavy flight vest, crammed up into his small Sperry turret with a pair of M2 Browning 12.7mm machine guns. He adjusts his flak jacket to a more comfortable position, and stands up in his seat to adjust the parachute pack under him.

This was a story I had already written a while ago, but felt like putting on here as my first story. (Yay!) It's from multiple perspectives, which makes it sort of clumsy on here, but I think it's still fairly readable.