TEN thousand boys in the upper air. Squadron upon squadron, their intricate machines thundered toward the target, heavy with death. Darkness below; and above, the stars. Below, the invisible carpet of the fields and little homes; above, and very far beyond those flashing stars, the invisible galaxies, gliding through the immense dark, squadron upon squadron of universes, deploying in the boundless and yet measured space.Serviceable, yes. Thought-provoking, sure. But to praise his prose style as such seems to me... excessive.
In one of the bombers, seven boys. Seven young minds in patterned unity; each self-cherishing, but all knit inwardly together by fibres of steel-tempered comradeship. And all equally imprisoned, body and mind, in their intricate machinery.
« Older This just in!... | A trophy film... Newer »
This thread has been archived and is closed to new comments
That's why I picked it up, anyway. Olaf rocks.
posted by paul_smatatoes at 12:04 AM on November 28, 2005