![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fiefoeI don't remember when I last read a biography, let alone an autobiography.
General Chuck Yeager's childhood in the hollers of WV during the Great Depression sounds quite idyllic.
__ The bastards ask no questions. They just unsling their rifles and begin firing through the front door. The first bullets whine above my head and thud into the wall; I leap through the rear window, Pat right behind me. I hear him scream, and I grab hold of him and yank him with me as I jump on a snow-covered log slide. I'm spinning around, ass over teakettle, in a cloud of snow, and it seems like two miles down to the bottom of that flume. We splash straight down into a creek.
__ The window bars are made of brass, and that good American steel blade zaps through the brass like butter. I find a small pensione a few blocks from the police station. The police know where I am, but ignore me.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maquis_(World_War_II)
General Chuck Yeager's childhood in the hollers of WV during the Great Depression sounds quite idyllic.
- By the time I was six, I knew how to shoot a .22 rifle and hunted squirrel and rabbit. I'd get up around dawn, head into the woods, and bring back three or four squirrels, skin them and leave them in a bucket of water for Mom to cook up for supper.
- Roy and I sold blackberries for ten cents a gallon, a source of additional income.
- Vines of Concord grapes grew out back, and we kids harvested hickory nuts and black walnuts in the woods, as well as berries and wild persimmons. Mom used the nuts in cakes and candies. We also brought back pawpaws, an almost tropical fruit that grows only along the western edge of Appalachia, in West Virginia, and tastes halfway between a banana and a peach.
- We made and raced our own bobsleds too, so I knew' what a skid was when I first learned to fly... I had plenty of experience fighting ice skids down steep hills on sleds and homemade skis; that's probably the reason I flew coordinated and kept the ball in the middle.
__ The bastards ask no questions. They just unsling their rifles and begin firing through the front door. The first bullets whine above my head and thud into the wall; I leap through the rear window, Pat right behind me. I hear him scream, and I grab hold of him and yank him with me as I jump on a snow-covered log slide. I'm spinning around, ass over teakettle, in a cloud of snow, and it seems like two miles down to the bottom of that flume. We splash straight down into a creek.
__ The window bars are made of brass, and that good American steel blade zaps through the brass like butter. I find a small pensione a few blocks from the police station. The police know where I am, but ignore me.
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maquis_(World_War_II)
