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<blockquote data-quote="Kevin Perrine" data-source="post: 1620629" data-attributes="member: 20347"><p><strong>Mustang Sally</strong></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>Meanwhile...</p><p>Setting: Port Hueneme, CA, MMD Barracks - The spartan quarters of young Sally Singer.</p><p></p><p>Within an hour or so Sally's tears were all cried out, she found herself staring again up through the rafters at her Angel-Wing... </p><p>This time on a happier note. </p><p>She dreamed of it even when she wasn't "up there", going over loops, dives, neg-G twists... all the manuvers that would send a puddle down most grown men's leg. </p><p>But more than the action - it was the little things that she loved most... The cool crisp air, the infinate silence, the way the Earth looked up at her as she would turn the engines off for those scant moments of peaceful freefall.</p><p></p><p>But Sally's mind is quick to flutter across topics, those freefalls soon turned into thoughts of tanks and bombs and bullets whizzing by the cockpit of a Mustang... Sally hadn't ever been in a fight like that but the images were easily conjured from Russell's letters mixed with the grainy pictures of him standing proud beside his P-51. Russell laid it on thick, his "heroic" style. He made all the dog fights and bomber missions sound glourious like a Flash Gordon comic.</p><p></p><p>Sally hoped it would be that way. It sure would be scary, she didn't want to have to hurt anyone but Sally knew that for every small step she could make that it could save maybe ten, maybe even a hundred lives on either side of the fight. Then again "'lil Miss Singer" as the PO's used to call her was just a little girl, no combat training, no big muscles... she was barely 5'3" tall what could she do?</p><p></p><p><span style="color: PaleTurquoise"><strong>"Yeah... what could SHE do"</strong></span> Sally muttered to herself. But there was always an answer... the one her dad gave her back before she could fly...</p><p></p><p><span style="color: Silver"><strong>"Little girl,"</strong></span> he said <span style="color: Silver"><strong>"Muscles don't matter. Strength and Muscles are very very different things. And you, little girl, have strength - I can see it in your eyes shinin' just like your mom's. You're gonna make a difference"</strong></span></p><p></p><p>T-Minus ... seventy-one hours and counting...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Kevin Perrine, post: 1620629, member: 20347"] [b]Mustang Sally[/b] Meanwhile... Setting: Port Hueneme, CA, MMD Barracks - The spartan quarters of young Sally Singer. Within an hour or so Sally's tears were all cried out, she found herself staring again up through the rafters at her Angel-Wing... This time on a happier note. She dreamed of it even when she wasn't "up there", going over loops, dives, neg-G twists... all the manuvers that would send a puddle down most grown men's leg. But more than the action - it was the little things that she loved most... The cool crisp air, the infinate silence, the way the Earth looked up at her as she would turn the engines off for those scant moments of peaceful freefall. But Sally's mind is quick to flutter across topics, those freefalls soon turned into thoughts of tanks and bombs and bullets whizzing by the cockpit of a Mustang... Sally hadn't ever been in a fight like that but the images were easily conjured from Russell's letters mixed with the grainy pictures of him standing proud beside his P-51. Russell laid it on thick, his "heroic" style. He made all the dog fights and bomber missions sound glourious like a Flash Gordon comic. Sally hoped it would be that way. It sure would be scary, she didn't want to have to hurt anyone but Sally knew that for every small step she could make that it could save maybe ten, maybe even a hundred lives on either side of the fight. Then again "'lil Miss Singer" as the PO's used to call her was just a little girl, no combat training, no big muscles... she was barely 5'3" tall what could she do? [COLOR=PaleTurquoise][B]"Yeah... what could SHE do"[/B][/COLOR] Sally muttered to herself. But there was always an answer... the one her dad gave her back before she could fly... [COLOR=Silver][B]"Little girl,"[/B][/COLOR] he said [COLOR=Silver][B]"Muscles don't matter. Strength and Muscles are very very different things. And you, little girl, have strength - I can see it in your eyes shinin' just like your mom's. You're gonna make a difference"[/B][/COLOR] T-Minus ... seventy-one hours and counting... [/QUOTE]
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