Friday, May 15, 2009

Ode to the sufferers

Quiet long cold nights, snug in bed warm.

Alarm sounds. Reluctance to climb out of bed at 5, water in the shower freezing cold.

Harsh winter wind on the dry face on the apron, freezing fingers. Pitch dark.

Fingers not working, too dark to find the nut that was dropped. Time ticking to get every aircraft opened.

Sun appearing over the horizon, darkness disappearing, fog dispersing.

Breath whistling, steaming in the sunshine.

First grim-faced instructor walking out, nervous student in the cockpit saying his final prayers.

Executioner and the damned.

Lights flashing, cranking engine, propellers coming to life.

Job done. Time for breakfast.