Teenage World War II fiction
It's November 2024, and I just came into possession of a paper I wrote for an eighth grade class in May 1973 when I was 13 years old. It’s headlined “10 day diary,” so perhaps that was the assignment (as it was obviously done for a class). At that point in my life I had been an avid reader of World War II military history, hence my decision to put myself in the position of a pilot on the Doolittle Raid. I corrected the spelling and punctuation but changed nothing else: April 17, 1942 Not much happened today, but I’m so worried about my plane I’m usually at it every 15 minutes. Checking the instruments, figuring out gas consumption. But I just keep thinking about Tojo in his fancy palace. I would give a million dollars to see the look on his face when they tell him American bombers just bombed Tokyo. April 18, 1942 I slept good last night and woke to the sound of gunfire. I ran out on deck and one of the cruisers was hammering away at a Jap boat on the horizon. I hurried right to th...