Reactionary Payback

Axis of Reality 

Weird John Brown.  Meteor of the war. 

–Herman Melville  

Had less than 100 hours on my ticket.  Got young Dwight flight instructor invite to fly right seat in a Beech 18 on some commercial run and I could learn more about complex aircraft multi retractable instruments and whatnot.  Nearly two miles up and isolated thunderstorms are sprouting like mushrooms.  The one in front of us is a classic.  Intercom Dwight quite right needles bouncing all over…take an average.  Fuel consumption weight marker call out numbers with lightning forking at the base and making flash balls inside the thunderhead.  You aint gonna fly into that fucker are you.  We on the glideslope now.  Batcha fifty bucks we crash. 

Inside black cloud fire dripping strobe wingtip shews dead grandmother sitting… knitting on the nose.  Your asshole is plucking buttons off the seat while fingers spurt out forehead spike Medusa like tendrils touching at glass block fishbowl windshield bottoms out gear down dropping decision height horizon:  forty five degrees.  Dwight cranks it right again and his wheels splash down puddle runway.  Dwight looks like a pilot.  We look like a dripping Picasso drawing.  Your copilot don’t look so good man.  Oh that.  We just come down outta the Big Nasty.    

And the stabs shall heal no more.   Back in Tac Zone Clusterfuck in 68 … in the fun Republic of Chuckles.  Dilger Hobart was an E5 by then… because he learned about how a corn-fed wheat boy could get his plump young poppin fresh ass stuffed in a rubber bag by a falling domino theory.  Dinky made off with the M60 and it was starting to get dark.  Like Dracula movie dark.  Not hard to find Dink and his ammo punk in the dark.  Nice position Dink.  See yawl built yourselves a nice little dope house to hide the gun.  Good job kids.  Dope?  Yeah.  Whole hilltop full.  You’re sitting in the middle of some gook’s cash crop. War is a business, girls.  Don’t be showing your ass in front of Charlie. 

Chesapeake Bay, July 1863   

Von Hot cutter Elizabeth Anne 

The whole army hates you.  You will never live it down.  Goddam yankee cavalry my best customers too.  Now they shoot me on sight.  Flying my ass.  First they give you to goddam popinjay Siegel… who gives you to jackass Howard.  Brown nose Carl gotta be a real general now- because what comes against you?  Jubal’s screaming hellhounds… with the best they got in the goddam shop.  With pot metal cannons they buy from Emperor Nignog and such.  My poor poor bakers and brewers and clerks and tradesmen.  My beautiful young carpenters and plowboys and tailors and cooks. 

You come to count elephant.  Step on adder.