Dogfight

As I roll out of bed to make my way to the strip,
I put my cap on my head and strap my gun to my hip.
It is still dark out, the stars sure shine bright,
While I climb into the cockpit and prepare to take flight.
One last check for supplies, a chute and my knife
Then a turn of the key, the engine roaring to life.
I align my airplane with the base's runway,
And open the throttle of my Se5a.
I roll down the Tarmac, picking up speed,
And listen to the hum of my wooden-framed steed.
I pull back on the stick and climb into the night,
And pray to the Lord this won't be my last fight.
I fly to duckwing to set down on land,
And thinking of the past I steady my hand.
As I take out my flask and screw off the top,
I turn off the engine and allow it to stop.
I sit in silence upon that memorial peak,
And upwards in prayer I silently speak.
I take a swig of my bourbon and swirl it around,
Then in his memory I pour some out on the ground.
I take one last sip and turn the engine back on,
As slowly but surely the night becomes dawn.
The sun creeps from the horizon, casting her rays,
Revealing low level clouds creating a haze.
The sun casts a brilliant red over the hills,
The same color as the blood lost due to the kills,
Made over this landscape in these past few years,
And the water in the lake reflecting like tears,
Of the families who lost their loved pilots in the field.
Before I take off I respectfully yield
A salute to the fallen on both sides of the fight,
Both dying for what they thought was right.
I lower my salute and very slowly I scan,
The miles I can see for any signs of their clan.
Alas! From their airfield I watch them lift off,
And through my binoculars I observe with a scoff,
Two lowly Fokker E.III's coming my way.
And I can tell this will be one hell of a day.
I push my throttle forward and begin to dive down,
Picking up speed going towards town.
I pull up toward the planes and line up my bead,
And fire off shots with a considerable lead.
I watch as the tracers pierce through the frame,
And suddenly his aircraft goes up in flame.
With one confirmed kill and one still airborne,
I turn sharply towards the other with no time to mourn.
I fire off shots and miss the plane wide,
As he continues to slip and slide,
In and out of my sights giving me no chance to fire,
My only shot is to climb higher.
I pull up to gain some height and turn back around,
And see my adversary coming up from the ground.
I fire off shots until he starts to go down,
And crashes horribly in the outskirts of town.
I slowly turn north to fly to the red base,
And reflect back on the sheer thrill of the chase.
A few hours go by uneventfully,
With nothing to shoot at but miles of trees.
As I approach the enemy base, I crest a hill,
At first everything seems to be standing still.
Then in the distance I notice a tank all alone,
And I decide to take a kill for the time I've flown.
As I line up to strafe the lonely tank,
A Albatros sneaks up on my flank.
By the time I see him it's far too late,
I already took a bite of his bait.
He unloads his machine guns into my plane,
In my right leg I felt intense pain.
I start spiraling towards the ground,
The plane is moving spastically all around.
I wonder if today I'll end up with my friends in the sky,
As I feel the blood oozing out of my thigh.
I recall the events leading up to attack,
When my plane hits the ground with a sickening crack.
The sun begins to set, again casting out red,
But this time over a whole new set of the dead.
Some may survive and continue to fly,
But for the ones like me, we lay down and die.