FADE INTO FOCUS, FOCUS INTO FADE
SKEWARD IMAGES
A NATION IN FLAMES
By Nick Armbrister
Early
Books
FIRING THOSE ROUNDS OFF
Feel the recoil of the fifty calibre in your
gut as the Messerschmitts dart past,
you hit or miss, this is a game of Russian
roulette. You’re a gunner in a B-17
shooting shells off to save your soul, kill
the Nazi cunts!
You’re a gunner in a Huey gunship blasting
the Vietcong – it’s you or them.
The recoil of your gun makes you violently
happy as you scythe Charlie down.
You want to rape Dantes’ mistress against the
recoil, all those tracers
cutting through the night. Just like July the
Fourth.
Heavy calibre bullets mince your guts and
wreck your plane, so the wise man says
don’t get in my way or else you’ll pay the
price.
MISSILE LAUNCH
Radar
lock on, a growl in your ear means the missile sees the Mig,
now
a 6 g’s turn and press the tit, see the Sidewinder dart towards the
enemy.
For this is his time to die, his seconds tick away like so many
grains
of sand in the hour glass.
As
the solid fuel rocket motor speeds the missile to Mach 3 the Mig,
your
Mig, flies for his life. A crazy turn into range seals his fate,
g-force
building up, horizon tumbling madly, this time he gives it his best.
Will
American or Russian technology win or lose? Will a pilot and plane die?
The
Mig defeats the missile in his life-saving gamble but two more are on the way.
Only
his faith in an outlawed God can save him now.
AROUND THE CHIMNEY
Three Messerschmitts fly in formation on this
tragic day in Germany’s history,
they’re in formation so fragile and so
deadly.
Then the Mustangs strike, fast and without
warning. Left and right the wingmen go;
a fuel tank explodes and its jettisoned,
saving both pilot and plane.
Deadly chase is now on; lower and lower the
109 and Mustang go, pilot skill counts,
so close to the ground, all that speed. Over
the village the 109 hurtles, turning on its wing,
fifty feet above the brewery chimney, four
g’s in this gut-wrenching turn.
Then the Mustang’s guns strike home, mortal
hit. A third of an aileron flies off the 109.
Flicking upside down, will he die? With so
much coolness he flies his plane upwards,
inverted flight, gaining height.
Mustang pilot sees this and waits to claim
his kill. With German coolness, the 109
rolls upright and the chase continues – for a
while. Force landing his damaged the plane,
the kraut is beaten but alive, skilful and
lucky.
TEMPEST PILOT
The
world’s best low level piston engine fighter plane flew low and fast with
21-year-old John Andrew at the controls. He was chasing the 190’s over open
country.
He
had got two and now the third was nearly his when he hit a tree with his wing.
He
bailed out of the speeding and tumbling plane with God on his side, alive!
His
chute opened and then he was on the ground,
his
plane coming down like a fuckin’
meteor
in the French churchyard demolishing half the church.
In
a dreamlike haze he pulled himself off the ground with nothing but cuts and
Bruises,
then passed out.
When
he awoke he was in a soft bed with a beautiful young girl gazing deeply at him,
She
was called Louisa and in an instant both had fallen in love in the blink of an
eye.
So
in three weeks John from London, Tempest pilot, had married Louisa, French
peasant girl, in the remains of the shattered church where his broken plane
lay.
This
is one wartime love story, so true and one of hope. Out of the ashes comes
re-birth. Wise men say, always fall in love in war.
BRIGHT NIGHT
Maybe
this time we’ll succeed and get it right,
maybe
this time all of the bad things will be out of sight,
maybe
this time man won’t bicker and fight,
maybe
this time our star will rise and shine ever so bright,
maybe
this time our love will survive the next time tonight,
maybe
this time our friendship will climb to a new height,
maybe
this time I won’t run because of my own fright,
I
hope this time we all do it because it’s all right.
FEE MAILS
What
a thing they are, these fee mails who are like nothing else!
They
are one of life’s little quirks that becomes lodged
inside
your head,
like
a thorn in your eye.
But
they certainly catch your eye and a whole lot more.
There’s
the old saying
“You
cant live with ’em and you cant live without ’em.”
I
suppose it’s true that when your marriage crashes
after
a one night stand, do you blame yourself or the fee mails?
You
have one nice chick and want another.
Are
these fee mails really man’s ruin?
A BIT OF ME
Find
it so hard to believe that this is life I live is really all mine,
all
mine with the good and the bad.
My
past is a crazy mixture of black and whites all turned to grey,
memories
of youth focus and fade like an old film, always moving.
The
girls I have had have left their mark, some not of the devil
but
a notch down.
A
few still leave me breathless, teasing me with memories
frighteningly
real.
Wouldn’t
it be mad if I could go back and be 17
and
say “Don’t do that” with a 29-year-old’s knowledge.
I
often feel cheated by life, losing friends before their time,
of
girls betraying me, making the wrong career move,
learning
the hard way. This is life’s message:
“Nick
do it right first time, avoid all the pain and shit!”
FULFILMENT
I
travel to the spiritual world and leave my heavy body behind.
I
look down through a veil of haze upon our planet from so far away,
yet
I am so near. I see places of holy, spiritual and magical power all
sparkling
like silver pinpricks of light upon her surface.
Our
earth is a huge living entity full of her inhabitants who mostly
don’t
see the power life. I ascend the physical world to become a
spirit,
to feel the true love and emotional fulfilment of those that
have
been before, for our stay on earth is but a brief one – soon we shall
join
our ancestors in summer land. There I will be forever one with my
soulmate.
Jian shut the terminal down and repeated his visual checks on each of
the thirty-five tubes. Each was fine. He randomly opened another terminal on
launcher number seven and cycled the system. Again it checked out. Walking over
to his two colleagues, Boss and Jano, Jian talked in a hushed voice. “The
weapon systems check out. All we have to do is wait. Then we will launch and be
the new conquerors of our troubled land. May God be with us…”
Two hours later as the moon reached her peak, launch time came upon the
group. A fact, nothing more, a game of numbers in the man-made world of time, a
countdown to a new battle to follow the ones of the past. The internal clock
silently reached zero and the three men watched from a dug out position,
nothing more than a metre and a half ditch with earth piled up at the top. If
one of the warheads went off the hole would provide no protection whatsoever,
even with a neutron bomb. They killed with intense radiation but a nuclear
explosion had to take place to unleash the deadly gamma rays. Jian watched the
main control screen that showed each launcher and individual weapon –
thirty-six yellow blobs with green icons next to them. Jian watched the left
group of launchers with fibre optic laser viewing optics. Boss watched the
other group with a similar device.
“Everything’s fine here, Jian.”
“You tally up on your lot Boss?” Jian whispered.
“Okay on this side, not even a bug
moving,” Boss replied. How are the readouts, Jian, any anomalies or problems?”
“Everything is sorted here, thirty seconds to go,” Jian replied. “I’d
turn your specs down to the lowest setting if I were you. You don’t want flash
blinding.”
The pair’s extra sensitive night vision equipment would adjust
automatically to any bright flash or light, so any change would be automatic, a
factor that Jian didn’t trust. He was not keen on machines, whence his constant
checking of the systems and his refusal to use the night glasses. The countdown
reached zero. At first nothing happened, at least not visually but in the
microcircuits, commands were sent to ignite the launch motors and arm the
warheads. In a glare of crude yellow light, first one and then another rocket
speared forth into the night, the pop of the seals being broken lost in the
rockets’ roar. Jian had to close his eyes at the brightness. It was an
impressive sight, he had to admit. What would the sight resemble on the
receiving end when thirty-six missiles detonated at thirty-six separate
pre-programmed targets? He wished he could see each one as it happened. Sadly that
was impossible because his side, the Twenty Sixth, had lost all of their spy
satellites to the Stone Collectors’ beam weapons. It was a bonus getting these
nuclear missiles so cheap from the Iranian Superpower Block at such a cheap
price. Even such outdated technology was still much prized by either side today
and anyone with enough credit could get hold of them.
