Byron looked at the Sectional Chart.. there was a private grass strip nestled in the mountains just outside of Helen in North Georgia... 1800' with an up slope towards rising terrain... He wanted to go in there.
Oh he thought about it all right and studied the information and weather... and his airplanes performance charts........
Day came he climbed into the PA 28 R... Many call it a Piper Arrow... it was a later model with the tapered wing...
The 100 statute mile flight out of Atlanta was uneventful... he flew over the velvet mountains below and set up a nice approach and slipped into the strip with no problem.
Following Days Departure:
This is where the fun began..... well lets see... one direction the runway had a gentle up slope towards the rising terrain... He asked the advice of the old man that was there who owned the strip what he though about conditions that morning... The elderly gentleman suggested a take off towards the rising terrain and with the up slope........... due to the winds.......
Now as you may well know the Arrow has a safety feature on the landing gear.. above VX of climb the landing gear comes down automatic.. for us genius types.... Byron knowing this engaged the Manual Override on the automatic gear extension feature so he could suck the gear up and perform a maximum performance short field take off.... and climb out at Best Angle of climb........
Byron knew he was light.... around half fuel and he was the only physical person on board....
Byron taxied the Arrow or PA 28 R if you prefer to the end of the dewy grass strip... did his run up ..
Stood on the brakes and applied full power...............
There we go.... Brake release and off to the races............
Very nice... Best angle of climb.. gear up... shallow turn to the right crosswind before smacking into the mountain.. my those tree tops are a bit close.......
NOW! at this very fine moment the engine automatically retards several hundred r.p.m.'s and starts a loud knocking... Precious.....
He hears his instructor who is not in the airplane say... 'Get your head out of the Cockpit keep the bank shallow get the nose down maintain the airspeed and whatever you do don't stall the wing'
Byron remembers saying ' Jesus please don't let me go into the trees' Engine rattling he gets the plane around and level on a low right hand down wind... the terrain was falling beneath him... ok, ok, ok, he says to him self... he gently pulls back some on the power... or throttle.. the engine quits knocking at the reduced setting... now the dilemma........... Stay on course for Atlanta with a faulty engine or land back at the little Strip? nestled in the mountains just there.... out the window to his right.... and not too far below...
He extends his down wind.....
Well lets experiment.. he rolls in to full power again and that engine started knocking loud again,
Another instructors voice chimes in his head... "no runway closer then the one below you... why chance it?"
Byron commits... to his short field landing ... he was still flying from outside... he reached in the plane and grabbed the flap lever... full flaps... hold it off .... hold it off... hold it off... full stall... tie down ring hits the turf..
THE GEAR! THE GEAR! Dag Nabbit.......... The GEAR!
Well Byron accomplished some world record for a short field landing... PLOP........... Seat backs all flew forward.. the prop sliced the turf 3 times like the top of a loaf of bread... and the Flying Machine came to a full rest falling silent.
It all got very still... Mags off, Master off, fuel off... out the door and on the wing... run away.....
Please tell me that did not just happen.
Well if it is any consolation prize... Byron heard... "there are those that have and those that will land gear up"
Epilogue: It turned out the plane had a bent push rod that turned out to be the noise maker at the party.... the plane suffered little damage.. just curled the inboard trailing edges of the flaps and curled the propeller tips...
The Gear! The Gear! Thankfully Byron was able to miss the Tree Tops.. and got it around.. with a shallow bank...
Byron just did not reach over and lower the gear.... Byron did bad, but he did not spin in.
Friday, July 22, 2016
Monday, June 6, 2016
Flying with house slippers a bathrobe and a pipe.
Byron was thinking about the day he checked out in the 1969 Piper Arrow.. It was transition into the complex single..........
It was a flying club airplane.. he called an instructor he had never met.... when the instructor arrived at the airport he was wearing a bath robe and house slippers and smoking a pipe.........
They took the plane up and the instructor told Byron he was a 'Natural'..... as they went through a series of stalls.....
He wanted to show Byron something special about that airplane... the wing spar ends four feet in from the wing tip he advised... be careful not to over speed the air frame.. as the wing tips have been know to shed...
Oh I see what you mean as they did a stall and let the wing just fall... the airspeed really comes up quick...
That was an early model... with a Hershey bar wing, they had 3 different wings for the Piper Arrow as Byron Recalls...
The Old Boy in the Bathrobe and slippers smoking a pipe... was right.... better mind your P's and Q's in that little jewel..........
It was a fun little airplane... it was kind of like a Cherokee 140 only it had 200 H.P. engine , retractable landing gear... and a constant speed propeller........
Flying with house slippers a bathrobe and a pipe.
Byron.
It was a flying club airplane.. he called an instructor he had never met.... when the instructor arrived at the airport he was wearing a bath robe and house slippers and smoking a pipe.........
They took the plane up and the instructor told Byron he was a 'Natural'..... as they went through a series of stalls.....
He wanted to show Byron something special about that airplane... the wing spar ends four feet in from the wing tip he advised... be careful not to over speed the air frame.. as the wing tips have been know to shed...
Oh I see what you mean as they did a stall and let the wing just fall... the airspeed really comes up quick...
That was an early model... with a Hershey bar wing, they had 3 different wings for the Piper Arrow as Byron Recalls...
The Old Boy in the Bathrobe and slippers smoking a pipe... was right.... better mind your P's and Q's in that little jewel..........
It was a fun little airplane... it was kind of like a Cherokee 140 only it had 200 H.P. engine , retractable landing gear... and a constant speed propeller........
Flying with house slippers a bathrobe and a pipe.
Byron.
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
To Hot Baby
Weighing the consequence of the 180 degree turn on take off....... when the engine quits.....
After Dumping the Nose..... you checked the fuel and mags before take off .... remember?
I suppose you could pull the primer out and see if she will dart for you with some raw gas shot into the cylinders............ I don't see that on the checklist........
Density Altitude?
Minimum Altitude for the turn or not ... What makes it?
Aircraft familiarity?
Weight?
Wind direction Velocity?
Bank Angle?
Stall speed?
Present Altitude?
I suppose one could think of it as tear drop maneuver ......... on departure if executed when safe.
The adage " the runway behind you and the altitude above you as useless" comes to mind... however
How many feet do you need to turn around safely?
Depends on a lot of variables one might know or come to know before hand and set a magic number for themselves for every single flight............ prior to departure.
I mean at 1000' at sea level and lightly loaded in a 172 you should be able to turn it around and land No?... how about 500'? 300'?
Hmmmm?
But then again if there are 4 passengers..... its a hot day.... and your in Denver with full fuel......... you may not even get off the ground.
Certainly not the time to experiment........ that should of been done at altitude years ago...
To Hot Baby...........
After Dumping the Nose..... you checked the fuel and mags before take off .... remember?
I suppose you could pull the primer out and see if she will dart for you with some raw gas shot into the cylinders............ I don't see that on the checklist........
Density Altitude?
Minimum Altitude for the turn or not ... What makes it?
Aircraft familiarity?
Weight?
Wind direction Velocity?
Bank Angle?
Stall speed?
Present Altitude?
I suppose one could think of it as tear drop maneuver ......... on departure if executed when safe.
The adage " the runway behind you and the altitude above you as useless" comes to mind... however
How many feet do you need to turn around safely?
Depends on a lot of variables one might know or come to know before hand and set a magic number for themselves for every single flight............ prior to departure.
I mean at 1000' at sea level and lightly loaded in a 172 you should be able to turn it around and land No?... how about 500'? 300'?
Hmmmm?
But then again if there are 4 passengers..... its a hot day.... and your in Denver with full fuel......... you may not even get off the ground.
Certainly not the time to experiment........ that should of been done at altitude years ago...
To Hot Baby...........
Byron The Air Mail Pilot
When Byron flew the U.S. Airmail... there was very little cockpit instrumentation you see...
He had an Airspeed indicator and an altimeter..and the concrete arrows and beacons below him...
When the weather was good.. it was a joy to fly especially through the clear night sky beneath the stars overhead going along from beacon to beacon...
It was when the crap weather came... that things got interesting.... he had no instruments like an artificial horizon or turn and bank indicator even... but he knew his airplanes dynamic stability.. he knew for instance if he took his hand off the stick and did not mess with the aileron input the old girl would just sit there...and if he reduced the power she would descend and if he increased the power she would climb.. and if he lowered the nose with elevator the airspeed would increase and and if he pulled up the nose the airspeed would decrease... those were the freakish times to fly blind.. in those days they just punched through thunderstorms generally... the updrafts seem mostly to outweigh the down drafts.. there was no need to even try and bother to descend just go up with it... Whee.........
That cold rain could be a bitch.. he was glad for his leather cap and googles .. and scarf.... they were not just for looks you know?
The aircraft was the instrument you see... the inherent stability of it ... one big gyro scope enveloped in the soup moving forward.......
He knew about what later came to be know as the grave yard spiral and spatial disorientation...
They called it 'Don't Loose Your Marbles'
Trusting sensation with no visibility was not good for your health for long ... Never Drop a Wing.
So what Forrest Byron did was simple enough though a bit unnerving upon the first times ... especially when the cold and Ice were involved... sometimes the engine would sputter.........
Byron trimmed the plane and kept his head very still and centered... he controlled Pitch on the longitude axis with engine power more or less and relied on the wings dyhedral for lateral stability and of course kept the compass heading with rudder around the vertical axis... often he would opt to climb.. versus ducking under.. trying to see the ground , always chose up in the mountains...... it was the lesser of two evils.... so to speak.... He knew about how high the mountains and terrain were below him... and had no urge..... to see it up really close...
sometimes it lasted in that nasty weather as he called it... for a few hours even... before he busted out the other side... in his flying gyroscope.
He never Snatched the Controls it was all a gentle, deliberate smooth motion.
Byron the Airmail Pilot.
Some of Byrons old routes...
He had an Airspeed indicator and an altimeter..and the concrete arrows and beacons below him...
When the weather was good.. it was a joy to fly especially through the clear night sky beneath the stars overhead going along from beacon to beacon...
It was when the crap weather came... that things got interesting.... he had no instruments like an artificial horizon or turn and bank indicator even... but he knew his airplanes dynamic stability.. he knew for instance if he took his hand off the stick and did not mess with the aileron input the old girl would just sit there...and if he reduced the power she would descend and if he increased the power she would climb.. and if he lowered the nose with elevator the airspeed would increase and and if he pulled up the nose the airspeed would decrease... those were the freakish times to fly blind.. in those days they just punched through thunderstorms generally... the updrafts seem mostly to outweigh the down drafts.. there was no need to even try and bother to descend just go up with it... Whee.........
That cold rain could be a bitch.. he was glad for his leather cap and googles .. and scarf.... they were not just for looks you know?
The aircraft was the instrument you see... the inherent stability of it ... one big gyro scope enveloped in the soup moving forward.......
He knew about what later came to be know as the grave yard spiral and spatial disorientation...
They called it 'Don't Loose Your Marbles'
Trusting sensation with no visibility was not good for your health for long ... Never Drop a Wing.
So what Forrest Byron did was simple enough though a bit unnerving upon the first times ... especially when the cold and Ice were involved... sometimes the engine would sputter.........
Byron trimmed the plane and kept his head very still and centered... he controlled Pitch on the longitude axis with engine power more or less and relied on the wings dyhedral for lateral stability and of course kept the compass heading with rudder around the vertical axis... often he would opt to climb.. versus ducking under.. trying to see the ground , always chose up in the mountains...... it was the lesser of two evils.... so to speak.... He knew about how high the mountains and terrain were below him... and had no urge..... to see it up really close...
sometimes it lasted in that nasty weather as he called it... for a few hours even... before he busted out the other side... in his flying gyroscope.
He never Snatched the Controls it was all a gentle, deliberate smooth motion.
Byron the Airmail Pilot.
Some of Byrons old routes...
Saturday, May 28, 2016
Grow Some Balls and that Lost Box of Picture reels.
What the Fuck...... Byron was flying along in the Flat Gray B-25 with observation windows and a camera mount....The Billy Mitchell Special as he called it... he must of been shell shocked out of his mind... every thing in his vision was in black and white now... it was just he and the Corporal...
Before his eyes at 100' above the sea in the Pacific Theatre .......... there they were
Below him miles and miles of ships all lined up in a wavering single file as he flew along looking down, thinking about a strafing run... all the Japanese held their hands high.. in surrender.... if was a sigh of relief actually.... he never knew what those bastards might do.. he squinted .. what were they doing?.. they were shooting Victory signs in surrender... well as long as they were not aiming guns....
What a sight of Glory......the end of the War glory... for a camera, for a camera, for a camera,
I need a camera man.. he hollered in angst not one on board... are you kidding me?
What a sight..... thousands of Japanese troops topsides on hundreds of ships below him arms held high... they landed the reconnaissance flight on a island jungle strip not having fired a shot at the saps.... he yelled at the Corporal.. find a camera... maybe it is not to late we will go up again and make a movie of the end of the Glory....... find a camera , find a camera damn it he yelled...
I don't know anything about cameras or how to use one the Corporal remarked... I don't give a shit...
find a camera... find a camera....
bye the time they made rendezvous back at the Plane.. cob webs were inside and a huge black snake slithered forward towards the Cockpit... get that bastard out of here Byron yelled... it scared the shit out of him..
Get one of the natives.... I don't care what you do.. get that bastard out of here... a couple of Nuns got on board .. the little native islander man got the big snake out, those guys were o.k in Byrons book.. and the Corporal had found a movie camera... he told Byron he had no idea how to use it.... .... as they trundled down towards the end of the turf strip... You will learn Corporal you will learn.......... and quickly.
As they went off in search once again of the sight to behold hoping to capture on film The Surrendering in mass Glory, the end of War Glory........ In Byrons Sector.....
For Christ sake grow some Balls! he yelled out.... as he rammed the throttles to the fire wall... you Ninny.
Then In the hot pursuit of the now lost box of pictures that are in his head......... the most unbelievable sight Byron had ever seen.. all those arms up in Surrender..shooting him the victory sign in their giving up in the Grey of early morning light.....
He thought Grow Some Balls and that Lost Box of Picture reels.
Before his eyes at 100' above the sea in the Pacific Theatre .......... there they were
Below him miles and miles of ships all lined up in a wavering single file as he flew along looking down, thinking about a strafing run... all the Japanese held their hands high.. in surrender.... if was a sigh of relief actually.... he never knew what those bastards might do.. he squinted .. what were they doing?.. they were shooting Victory signs in surrender... well as long as they were not aiming guns....
What a sight of Glory......the end of the War glory... for a camera, for a camera, for a camera,
I need a camera man.. he hollered in angst not one on board... are you kidding me?
What a sight..... thousands of Japanese troops topsides on hundreds of ships below him arms held high... they landed the reconnaissance flight on a island jungle strip not having fired a shot at the saps.... he yelled at the Corporal.. find a camera... maybe it is not to late we will go up again and make a movie of the end of the Glory....... find a camera , find a camera damn it he yelled...
I don't know anything about cameras or how to use one the Corporal remarked... I don't give a shit...
find a camera... find a camera....
bye the time they made rendezvous back at the Plane.. cob webs were inside and a huge black snake slithered forward towards the Cockpit... get that bastard out of here Byron yelled... it scared the shit out of him..
Get one of the natives.... I don't care what you do.. get that bastard out of here... a couple of Nuns got on board .. the little native islander man got the big snake out, those guys were o.k in Byrons book.. and the Corporal had found a movie camera... he told Byron he had no idea how to use it.... .... as they trundled down towards the end of the turf strip... You will learn Corporal you will learn.......... and quickly.
As they went off in search once again of the sight to behold hoping to capture on film The Surrendering in mass Glory, the end of War Glory........ In Byrons Sector.....
For Christ sake grow some Balls! he yelled out.... as he rammed the throttles to the fire wall... you Ninny.
Then In the hot pursuit of the now lost box of pictures that are in his head......... the most unbelievable sight Byron had ever seen.. all those arms up in Surrender..shooting him the victory sign in their giving up in the Grey of early morning light.....
He thought Grow Some Balls and that Lost Box of Picture reels.
Tuesday, May 17, 2016
Shake, Shake, Shake.......
Byron sauntered into the Yellow Submarine night club (disco) in Ft. Lauderdale....
K.C. and the Sunshine band was blasting....
What a cute little Italian girl... just his same age....too
Hey I am going over to Andros tomorrow.. he spoke above the din , would you like to go? If so.. I am leaving early be here I am in room 303, and left he was drinking light.
He got up the next morning packed his bag and got in the elevator and headed for the ground floor.... as the doors slid open... there she was.........
Taxi to the airport please...... they climbed into the Sky Hawk and flew a course over to Bimini and then on to Andros Town... there a Super Viking sat with strange antenna array... and the whole back of the plane was full of radio gear.....
She reached over and squeezed Byrons right leg so hard on takeoff it damn near hurt as he held right rudder to compensate for the P factor on climb out... he looked over .. 'never been in a small plane' he asked?
He kept it smooth as glass...... he was never one to be abrupt...
Next day she and him were sitting in the grass in the plane.. out by the strip tapping on the window glass ... of the A.D.F... playing...
Shake Shake Shake.... Shake Shake Shake, Shake your booty came out of the over head speaker.. as the needle swung towards the station in Cuba... just over the horizon not very far... Radio Marti...... perhaps?
Byron had a good time living and hoped she did as well... He flew her back to Ft. Lauderdale.. and misplaced her number.... He always felt kind of bad about that.
Fun adventuring type folk sometimes were hard to find.... they gave each other a genuine smile... as they parted ways...
Shake, Shake, Shake......
K.C. and the Sunshine band was blasting....
What a cute little Italian girl... just his same age....too
Hey I am going over to Andros tomorrow.. he spoke above the din , would you like to go? If so.. I am leaving early be here I am in room 303, and left he was drinking light.
He got up the next morning packed his bag and got in the elevator and headed for the ground floor.... as the doors slid open... there she was.........
Taxi to the airport please...... they climbed into the Sky Hawk and flew a course over to Bimini and then on to Andros Town... there a Super Viking sat with strange antenna array... and the whole back of the plane was full of radio gear.....
She reached over and squeezed Byrons right leg so hard on takeoff it damn near hurt as he held right rudder to compensate for the P factor on climb out... he looked over .. 'never been in a small plane' he asked?
He kept it smooth as glass...... he was never one to be abrupt...
Next day she and him were sitting in the grass in the plane.. out by the strip tapping on the window glass ... of the A.D.F... playing...
Shake Shake Shake.... Shake Shake Shake, Shake your booty came out of the over head speaker.. as the needle swung towards the station in Cuba... just over the horizon not very far... Radio Marti...... perhaps?
Byron had a good time living and hoped she did as well... He flew her back to Ft. Lauderdale.. and misplaced her number.... He always felt kind of bad about that.
Fun adventuring type folk sometimes were hard to find.... they gave each other a genuine smile... as they parted ways...
Shake, Shake, Shake......
Sunday, May 15, 2016
'Dying in the Nearby Battle of 1869
The Old Soldier Reincarnate.......
Dear Byron the funny as shit fucker......
Stood in the Pioneers Cemetery looking at his own grave stone, it was made of sandstone it was old and eroding the thin layers falling off only parts were barely legible any longer..... it was a beautiful day..... green grass, blue sky... crisp air....a lovely Ohio morning........
He was in one of the Lucky graveyards ... the grass was green it had a white picket fence around it and was manicured even.. they ran a weed eater contraption around his stone, it was Spring........ he knew the cold gray dreary winter would come again and chill him... Brrrrrrr . He thought... about throwing a log in the old wooden cabins fireplace... how he longed for soooo long ago......... and the flesh....... especially hers...
stuffing her like a holiday turkey, one of his favorite things always... she did not seem to mind either.
Byron remember being full of youth and raging........ in anger at his superior officers for he knew he was right and they mistaken.
Besides now in reflection he realized how many more incidents of battles over Sovereignty he had been engaged in.. always over whose land it was... or who's rights......... engineered affairs... cock suckers rotting in hell... that carried away the gold off in their saddle bags... he knew alright , But engaged out of Duty...
The atrocities he had engaged in... who were they to tell him anything? Now or ever more?
He remembered being so angry for being right ... why he was melting like the red hot molten metal.....
He was exploding.......... in his addiction........ He fucking liked it , that was the sickness.
Byron could fly that motor a million ways... it was his job in WW 2 to mandate the controls... Byron could fly and cut those invisible ribbons in the sky.. better then anybody, he was air king, he loved those immelman's then strafing the top side of the dirty bastards... got em good... down they they went... to smoldering masses.......... He was so high he went ape shit screaming at the top of his lungs and banging his fist's until they split and bled.
He was remembering Ms. Memory Jean as he stood over his now listing stone marker looking... she was from England you know... and what a beauty... she was dictating while he screamed his reasoning out and was the only one that understood his understanding of the truth....... mostly.
He was screaming his head off at his superior officers.... Fools...... you will die for it and they did.
She took note, later stepping over their body's.
What War! What battle in 1869? 'The tainted stuff in my heart of 1869' That's what douche bag! Byron had thought the day before, don't you remember? he questioned of himself... of course I do.... you can't hide the lie to yourself, dumb shit....... he laughed out loud to himself...... and went and took a piss talking over his shoulder while doing so.
Rage and Anger inside him and being alone....... now....... where was his respect now? He heard no marching band no Taps..........
He knew that motor inside and out and it fit together only 'Just So' and he knew it... Damn It!
He remembered the U.S.S. Main boiler explosion in Havana too... oh yes..... he was there, and many others... he was a warrior... later turned Pacifist........ just stay the fuck out of his yard... or he would untie the string and come out blasting... The Quaker Oats Man....
The English girl he later married... she understood how the screw alignment went, plus she was so hot.. and all that Big Band Era music like Glenn Miller playing he got swept up and so did she on a white stallion... as he held together all the moving pieces pieces with his two hands waiting for the armature to fall correctly into the brass bushing.... he waited patiently for the order to pull the trigger on the Dictator in that Communist Island.. The order was never given... he left Byron's scope cross hairs.. sat down and smoked a cigar and had a shot of rum, not a bad idea he thought.
As his knees hurt.. he was getting old....
Byron was Top Gun... an ace... where do you think his name came from.. an Accident? No it was his maneuvers.......... that made him Ace.....
Think Man........ Byron lived with the Officers in their quarters with his Anger Addiction.......... He knew Patton the Prick ......... a prime player on the Chess Board of that war...... he called him Car Wreck.. what a way to go he mused.
He awoke and looked over into his journals pages... they were blank... for he must of burned them in one of the wars... before or after 1869....... he remembered thinking save them.... what the hell for? Pass me a match he lit the diary journal and let it burn right on the night stand... the warmth of the fire actually felt good on that crisp morning, you can still see the soot marks... its an antique now ... nobody knows what happened.... they market the burn marks as character when selling...
Byron The reincarnate was glad within himself as he walked around his Cemetery home... now a wisp... the grounds keepers trailer that sat next door... just outside the fence... was painted blue, how pretty... was it a two bedroom 8'x40' or one? it was old for its time.. but appeared to be maintained....
He looked around ... he could understand the non fighters now ... the peace keepers.. as he remembered having tea with the Miami tribe Indians after they measured his boys foot and made his son a pair of moccasins as a gesture of friendship.. some friends we turned out to be he thought... that sucked a big wet one........ they even came over to dinner and sat at the table with him and his wife he remembers the bands of silver they wore just below and above their elbows.... and how polite they were.. generous .........
Out You Go..........off to Oklahoma ...... or where ever that was they sent you.
The last of them ... prior to their being herded West...... they left their land and fire pits for the deserving white man... how thoughtful....
He grew sick of his battles you know.. as he looked across the fields at his Quaker 'Friends' perhaps he had let them down... he understood better now their sentiments............ a couple of hundred years later.
He got the gist of it now....conscientious objection to all the blood shed... sticking the knife in the lambs neck and watching it bleed out... It did disgust him, though he had done it.......
The Confederates Slaughtered the Union.... in that one battle that had occurred nearby.. he remembered that one too... he nearly got it there... a near miss... ping right my his head and into the tree bark.
Later he helped the black folk sneak up North.. but wondered if it wasn't actually a trick of the bankers to obtain inexpensive labor.... free to starve, being shuffled from one Master to yet another under the guise of freedom... you go girl..........
Many battles lost and won on both sides...... but mainly he remembers his rage...... his anger...
War is tricky to say the least ... in all its flag waving Glory and Guts.......
As he loomed over his own grave... looking watching thinking............ as the sand stone fell apart pieces hitting the dank ground....
Byron could barely make the epitaph out ... something about living a just reward and being such a great guy and all......... a wonderful man... he laughed as he ran his cold fingers along the lettering..
Where was his next battle to be won? Who would Cash in?
and then remembering his own...... 'Dying in the nearby battle of 1869.........'
Dear Byron the funny as shit fucker......
Stood in the Pioneers Cemetery looking at his own grave stone, it was made of sandstone it was old and eroding the thin layers falling off only parts were barely legible any longer..... it was a beautiful day..... green grass, blue sky... crisp air....a lovely Ohio morning........
He was in one of the Lucky graveyards ... the grass was green it had a white picket fence around it and was manicured even.. they ran a weed eater contraption around his stone, it was Spring........ he knew the cold gray dreary winter would come again and chill him... Brrrrrrr . He thought... about throwing a log in the old wooden cabins fireplace... how he longed for soooo long ago......... and the flesh....... especially hers...
stuffing her like a holiday turkey, one of his favorite things always... she did not seem to mind either.
Byron remember being full of youth and raging........ in anger at his superior officers for he knew he was right and they mistaken.
Besides now in reflection he realized how many more incidents of battles over Sovereignty he had been engaged in.. always over whose land it was... or who's rights......... engineered affairs... cock suckers rotting in hell... that carried away the gold off in their saddle bags... he knew alright , But engaged out of Duty...
The atrocities he had engaged in... who were they to tell him anything? Now or ever more?
He remembered being so angry for being right ... why he was melting like the red hot molten metal.....
He was exploding.......... in his addiction........ He fucking liked it , that was the sickness.
Byron could fly that motor a million ways... it was his job in WW 2 to mandate the controls... Byron could fly and cut those invisible ribbons in the sky.. better then anybody, he was air king, he loved those immelman's then strafing the top side of the dirty bastards... got em good... down they they went... to smoldering masses.......... He was so high he went ape shit screaming at the top of his lungs and banging his fist's until they split and bled.
He was remembering Ms. Memory Jean as he stood over his now listing stone marker looking... she was from England you know... and what a beauty... she was dictating while he screamed his reasoning out and was the only one that understood his understanding of the truth....... mostly.
He was screaming his head off at his superior officers.... Fools...... you will die for it and they did.
She took note, later stepping over their body's.
What War! What battle in 1869? 'The tainted stuff in my heart of 1869' That's what douche bag! Byron had thought the day before, don't you remember? he questioned of himself... of course I do.... you can't hide the lie to yourself, dumb shit....... he laughed out loud to himself...... and went and took a piss talking over his shoulder while doing so.
Rage and Anger inside him and being alone....... now....... where was his respect now? He heard no marching band no Taps..........
He knew that motor inside and out and it fit together only 'Just So' and he knew it... Damn It!
He remembered the U.S.S. Main boiler explosion in Havana too... oh yes..... he was there, and many others... he was a warrior... later turned Pacifist........ just stay the fuck out of his yard... or he would untie the string and come out blasting... The Quaker Oats Man....
The English girl he later married... she understood how the screw alignment went, plus she was so hot.. and all that Big Band Era music like Glenn Miller playing he got swept up and so did she on a white stallion... as he held together all the moving pieces pieces with his two hands waiting for the armature to fall correctly into the brass bushing.... he waited patiently for the order to pull the trigger on the Dictator in that Communist Island.. The order was never given... he left Byron's scope cross hairs.. sat down and smoked a cigar and had a shot of rum, not a bad idea he thought.
As his knees hurt.. he was getting old....
Byron was Top Gun... an ace... where do you think his name came from.. an Accident? No it was his maneuvers.......... that made him Ace.....
Think Man........ Byron lived with the Officers in their quarters with his Anger Addiction.......... He knew Patton the Prick ......... a prime player on the Chess Board of that war...... he called him Car Wreck.. what a way to go he mused.
He awoke and looked over into his journals pages... they were blank... for he must of burned them in one of the wars... before or after 1869....... he remembered thinking save them.... what the hell for? Pass me a match he lit the diary journal and let it burn right on the night stand... the warmth of the fire actually felt good on that crisp morning, you can still see the soot marks... its an antique now ... nobody knows what happened.... they market the burn marks as character when selling...
Byron The reincarnate was glad within himself as he walked around his Cemetery home... now a wisp... the grounds keepers trailer that sat next door... just outside the fence... was painted blue, how pretty... was it a two bedroom 8'x40' or one? it was old for its time.. but appeared to be maintained....
He looked around ... he could understand the non fighters now ... the peace keepers.. as he remembered having tea with the Miami tribe Indians after they measured his boys foot and made his son a pair of moccasins as a gesture of friendship.. some friends we turned out to be he thought... that sucked a big wet one........ they even came over to dinner and sat at the table with him and his wife he remembers the bands of silver they wore just below and above their elbows.... and how polite they were.. generous .........
Out You Go..........off to Oklahoma ...... or where ever that was they sent you.
The last of them ... prior to their being herded West...... they left their land and fire pits for the deserving white man... how thoughtful....
He grew sick of his battles you know.. as he looked across the fields at his Quaker 'Friends' perhaps he had let them down... he understood better now their sentiments............ a couple of hundred years later.
He got the gist of it now....conscientious objection to all the blood shed... sticking the knife in the lambs neck and watching it bleed out... It did disgust him, though he had done it.......
The Confederates Slaughtered the Union.... in that one battle that had occurred nearby.. he remembered that one too... he nearly got it there... a near miss... ping right my his head and into the tree bark.
Later he helped the black folk sneak up North.. but wondered if it wasn't actually a trick of the bankers to obtain inexpensive labor.... free to starve, being shuffled from one Master to yet another under the guise of freedom... you go girl..........
Many battles lost and won on both sides...... but mainly he remembers his rage...... his anger...
War is tricky to say the least ... in all its flag waving Glory and Guts.......
As he loomed over his own grave... looking watching thinking............ as the sand stone fell apart pieces hitting the dank ground....
Byron could barely make the epitaph out ... something about living a just reward and being such a great guy and all......... a wonderful man... he laughed as he ran his cold fingers along the lettering..
Where was his next battle to be won? Who would Cash in?
and then remembering his own...... 'Dying in the nearby battle of 1869.........'
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