Mayday, Mayday I could sense something was wrong; uneasiness hung in the air as me and the pilot sat tensed. I realised with a start that I was meant to be keeping a lookout and stared out of the glass guiltily, running the pad of my finger over the parachute fixed to my back. I never thought to mention the smell of fuel because I presumed Dan, my pilot had smelt it as well. None of us said and the next few minutes passed in a tense, uneasy sort of silence. My heart had lodged in my throat, forcing me to keep on swallowing hard to get rid of it and licking my lips which had suddenly gone dry. Dan tried to pull the plane into a sharp turn back to the airfield when the propellor at the front started to slow down, something was terribly wrong- -The noisy whirring of the engine which had so happily deafened the both of us earlier began to cease as Dan swore loudly, coaxing the controls back level again. "Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Speedbird 9, we are loosing power, over" he spoke clearly into the microphone, but even I could detect a faint glimmer of panic in his voice. Breathing shortly and sharply I checked my parachute one last time just to make sure, my breaths catching in my throat. Then the engine cut out completely, leaving an eerie, stunned second blank. Like a stone, the plane began to plummet. "Oh my god!" I can remember myself distinctively screaming as the clouds were quickly replaced by the countryside hurtling closer and closer- -"JUMP! JUMP!" I heard Dan yell as I released the buckle on the straps. The plane tilted vertical, throwing and smashing my face into the joystick. Gasping with horror and spitting out my bloody teeth, I wrenched the red leaver next to me. The canopy flew away as I exchanged one last look, one last glance with Dan as best as I could with the wind roaring in my eyes. My feet left the floor as I leapt out of the stricken plane, tumbling towards the earth. The wind morphed my face as I fell, my screams cut out and lost in the air. The plane smashed into the ground below me, there was a blank second before it erupted into a ferocious fireball causing heat to fold over my body, the flames licking hungrily at the wreckage. I was still falling through the sky, wind whistling shrilly in my ears, the field becoming ever closer as I grabbed the parachute chord and pulled it downwards. The parachute exploded from my back wrenching me upwards limply like a rag-doll. I was slowing down but still going too fast, I could hear Dans screams of terror in the distance but we had both jumped out of the plane far too late and we were now going to die, we were going to die- - The field was now so close that I could count each individual blade of grass, uttering one last hope I drew my arms and legs into my body, mimicking the safety video and praying for the best- I smashed into the ground- hard- and for a second I writhed in agony before falling unconscious, my visor reflecting the fire eating away at the plane I had been in a few minutes ago.

Taking The Controls At 15 The adrenalines surging powerfully through my body, pumping through my bloodstream and preparing my body for what I’m about to do. The pilot reaches a gloved hand forward and releases the parking brake; we slowly sidle onto the runway until the planes in line with it, flanked by the rolling hills of Lincoln’s beautiful countryside. My emotions have hit a peak- nervousness mingled with excitement means that my hearts hammering a mantra in my chest against the heavy straps of the parachute. A slight pause hung in the air as my pilot casted one final eye over the instruments. This is it. The throttles slammed forwards as the propellers speed up to a deafening roar, my ears are emitting a strange ringing as we hurtle down the tarmac, breath caught in my throat; the G-forces start to descend upon my stomach as the lines begin to merge into one whipping past us, once swift pull back on the controls and we wobble and lift lightly off the ground- -The wheels leave the ground as I feel the familiar oaring sensation erupting in my stomach. Lincoln spins away madly underneath me to be replaced by picturesque cross-stich fields and clouds floating lazily past me. The pilot asks me if I want to take control, and I echo a yes into the headphones clasped round my ears. I put my hands on the cool plastic of the controls and ease the plane into a gentle bank, the propeller purring noisily, the wings beside me proudly bearing the RAF logo skimming on top of the clouds. It’s just a typical day in the #life of a fifteen year old Air Cadet like me.