the signal

back in the forties, during the world war, if an american sailor got steak and eggs for breakfast a day of battle lay ahead. for many it would be their last meal, downed with coffee. the torpedo bombers were lethargic and pilots realized they would be easily cooked by the zeros. the dive bombers went out to sea in squadrons with compasses, pencils and the sun to guide them. they kept their cockpits open and dropped at impossible angles to meet their targets. often a painted red sun on the deck of a japanese carrier. insanely they dropped full speed into the anti-aircraft fire, to drop their ordinance and pull up at the last possible moment. dreaming to make it home alive. many were shot out of the sky. many ran out of fuel and got swallowed by the sea.

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