Tag Archive: historical fiction

The Mechanic

Another Diary I wrote, this one from the viewpoint of a WWII Mechanic. Enjoy!

November 14th, 1941: I just arrived on Oahu today. I’ve been transferred to Pearl Harbor as a mechanic. The weather is beautiful here, I could really get used to this. I’ve been assigned quarters in Schofield Barracks.


Nov 19th, 1941: All these reports about the Japanese aggression in the far east are making me worried. Between them and Hitler, mark my words, this world will be in flames, and we’ll be lucky if we get out of it with our lives.


Nov 26th, 1941: They transferred me out of the Barracks today, and onboard the USS Enterprise, under the command of Admiral Halsey, i’m excited to be stationed on a carrier, even if everyone says the Battleships are the assignment you want to get.


Nov 28th, 1941: Admiral Halsey is taking the battle group out to sea. We’re to deliver aircraft to Wake Island. Rumors are out that if we come across any Japanese forces, the Admiral will engage them with extreme prejudice, although his official orders from Admiral Kimmel are to use his common sense.


Dec 4th, 1941: We delivered the fighter squadron to Wake, so far no signs of any Japanese. We’re heading back to Pearl, although we’re going to be late because of that storm we encountered on our way here


Dec 7th, 1941: We came into port today, surrounded by death. I can’t even see the sky through all the thick black smoke from burning ships. The Japanese hit Pearl this morning. Pearl of all places! They slaughtered our ships, I can’t see a single one without some kind of damage. Thank God for that storm, or we would have been here with them. We are under orders to sail southward and seek out the enemy fleet and engage, to stab back at the enemy the best we can.


Mcdonough’s Tale

A short historical piece I wrote, centered around Pearl Harbor. This story is tied in with “Siege of Fortuna”

…As Major Mcdonough’s P-40 Tomahawk hurtled down the runway, its engines roaring like an enraged tiger, he glanced over his shoulder, checking for enemy fighters. Seeing none, he brought his plane up into a climb, pulling it away from the tarmac. The tomahawk then soared up to cruising altitude, and Mcdonough looked to his left spotting two other tomahawks that made it into the air. He gave them a salute, before his eyes drifted towards Pearl Harbor. The billowing plumes of smoke coming from throughout the harbor, as well as the occasional tounge of flame shooting out of the shattered and mangled husk of the USS Arizona, only strengthened his resolve. He banked his plane towards the battle, the other tomahawks following him as he rushed towards the sound of danger, intent on avenging the Americans that lay dead and dying below him.

    Mcdonough’s  hodge podge squadron flew into the fray, catching a small group of Japanese aircraft from behind. They dove down on the enemy, Mcdonough knocking out a Nakajima B5N “Kate” torpedo bomber before the japanese had time to react. A dogfight ensued, with several Mitsubishi A6M “Zeros” peeling off from the main Japanese formation to intercept Mcdonough’s fighters. Mcdonough’s formation split, and began a deadly dance of death with the enemy fighters, both sides darting around trying to line up a lethal shot on the other side.  One of the enemy fighters erupted in a ball of flame after one of Mcdonough’s wingmen lodged a bullet inside its engine. Mcdonough let off a stream of bullets at another nearby fighter, then glanced over his shoulder, cursing as one of his wingmen was hit, his engine sputtering. He watched the plane as it spiraled down to its death, the pilot bailing out. He was shaken back to reality by the sounds of bullets bouncing off his own wings, and glanced behind him, spotting a Japanese pilot. Another round of bullets struck his wing as he dove, and as he glanced over, he could see fuel leaking. He cursed, and turned his plane around, struggling his way back to Hickam Field. He landed his crippled plane amid all the destruction and devastation, then climbed out of the cockpit, before blacking out from blood loss, due to the bullet that had passed through the base of the Tomahawk’s wing and into his leg.

April 30th, 1992

Dear Diary,

I still haven’t heard from my friend at all. Mother told me this morning we’re leaving the city. When I asked her why, she said she was afraid the serbs were going to try and take over, and she didn’t want to be there when they did. she said we’re going to go to Gornji Vakuf, up near the Lasva Valley. Its at least a week’s drive to get there. She says it’ll be safer there because the Croats aren’t at war with us like the Serbs are. I don’t want to leave, Sarajevo’s always been my home. I’ve never lived anywhere else. But.. its not like I have much choice in the matter.

April 31st, 1992

Dear Diary,

We’re leaving today for Gornji Vakuf. I talked my mom into taking me over to my friend’s house. He wasn’t there.. but his mother, Freya, was. I asked her where he had gone, and she said he had left  a week ago. He had ran off into the hills to join the Serbians that were shelling the city. When she told me that.. I couldn’t speak. I was too shocked. I went outside to our car and asked my mother, then went in and told Freya we were leaving, then asked her if she wanted to come with us. She looked up at the hills where the guns, for a moment, were quiet. Then she looked back at me and nodded, a single tear in her eye. I gave her a brief hug, before telling her we would wait for her to get her things. I can’t believe my friend would do that to her. I can’t believe he would be willing to join the men shelling his own home, and leave his friends and family behind.  Does the fact that hes a Serb mean he has to hate us? Are we really that different?

May 6th, 1992

Dear Diary,

We’re only a few hours away from Gornji Vakuf now, I can see it off in the distance. We ran into a few checkpoints on our way here, but thankfully, They were all Bosnian. I can’t Imagine what would have happened to us if one of them had been a Serbian checkpoint. The things they’ve been doing to Sarajevo… lets just say, I’m glad I don’t have to watch. I.. just hope theres a Sarajevo left to come back to when this is all over.

May 12th, 1992

Dear Diary,

We’re all settled in now.. mother’s renting an apartment here. Gornji Vakuf’s a lot smaller than Sarajevo.. but.. at least its quiet. I don’t have to listen to explosions as I try to sleep, wondering if the next one will be in my building. The Croats here are part of the Croatian Defense Force, a paramilitary group. They are a lot more friendly to us Bosniaks than the Croatian Gov’t is. Everyone’s on edge though… they’re all worried about what’s going on with the Serbians out west.  The tension in the city is so thick you could cut it with a knife. But… at least there isn’t war here. I never thought i’d say this, but I’m glad we left Sarajevo.

May 29th, 1992

I head on the news today that the Croatian Government met with the Serbian Government. I don’t know for sure what they talked about. Hopefully.. the Croatians are trying to convince the Serbs to stop attacking us. After all… the Croatians are our allies. If the Serbs won’t listen to us, maybe they will listen to the Croatians. I just want this terrible war to be over with and for things to go back to the way they were before. I’d rather be part of Yugoslavia than have this!

June 12th, 1992

Dear Diary,

The Croatians crossed into Bosnian Territory today. I was afraid they would do this. Looks like they weren’t trying to stop the Serbs after all! I thought they were our allies, our friends! But… everyone seems to be turning on their friends and family nowadays. First my friend, and now the Croats.I still wonder about him sometimes. I wonder if he felt he did the right thing after all, or if he regrets it. I hope hes okay… The only thing that could be worse for Freya than what he did would be him getting hurt or dying. II hope he remembers who his family really is, and returns to us someday.

June 23rd, 1992

Dear Diary,

Its started all over again! The Croatians have surrounded the city and are shelling it! We left Sarajevo to escape this hell, not have it come back! I can’t look out of any of the windows in the apartment without seeing a burning building or an explosion going off. People are screaming and running around in a panic. I can’t leave the house for fear of getting shot or having someone try and loot our belongings. Every now and then I see a squad of soldiers run out towards the hills where the guns are. I haven’t seen any come back. I don’t see any way out this time, I may join up and help them.  I’ll give it a few days before I do though.. maybe we’ll be lucky and they can break the siege. I just hope my family and I get out of th… (The writing scribbles off incoherently, eventually forming a long line down the page. No other journal entries have been found inside the ruined apartment.)

Bosnia Diaries Pt. 1

Heres a little bit i wrote during a couple of brief writing flurrys, from the perspective of a bosnian during the Bosnian Civil War. I’ll publish it in two parts. forgive the roughness of  the entries, its more meant to test the whole diary concept than anything else.

March 5th, 1992

Dear Diary,

We declared Independence! four days ago, Parliament polled us all, asking if we wanted to make a new, independent, Bosnian state. I voted yes. One of my friends told me to vote no though. He’s a Serbian. He said that if we stay with Yugoslavia we can forge a grand new state like that.  I’d rather we all became our own country though. I voted yes. He got mad. He voted no. I hope it won’t come between us as friends…

April 14th, 1992

Dear Diary,

I heard on the news today that the serbs from prijedor have moved troops around the city. I’m worried, they warned that it would be no good for us all if we declared independence. I.. just didn’t think that they would actually DO anything about it. They already split from us and made their own country… wasn’t that good enough? ..i’m hoping this is all just hype and it will all blow over. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.

April 26th, 1992

Dear Diary,
I woke up to the sounds of artillery shells this morning. The Serbs have begun to shell the city! I don’t want to go outside, i’m afraid i’m going to get hit. When I look out the window at the executive council building.. I can hardly see it because of all the smoke. I tried to call my friend, but he won’t pick up. I hope its just because he’s still mad at me.