Early Morning Musings Part 4
I Dropping bombs must have been either very terrifying if you are ridden with a conscience, or very pretty if not, especially if you are high on patriotism. Imagine flying a huge metal pipe through black flak mushrooms, zigzagging through death like a two-wheeler in Pune, and as you make a U-turn back home, marvel at your doing. Little orange flowers, spreading like fireworks across a black earth. Brick and flesh bursting fountains of smoke. Whoever said “Death is an art” was surely a part of the bomber crew. ...