"I was just a child when the stars fell from the skies. But I remember how they built a cannon to destroy them. And in turn how that cannon brought war upon us. War was an abstract idea, nothing more than a show on TV. As a child, I only saw it as something that happened in some far away land... Until that final day of summer... One day while on my way to school, I looked up in the skies. A sound like distant thunder. In the blue skies far above me, contrails drew dizzying circles around in a crazy waltz. A battle in the beautiful skies far away... I could not tear my gaze away from them. A deafening roar. And then sharp silhouettes appeared, as if to graze the hills, and streaked past me. The fighters played the cat or the mouse in turn as they climbed swiftly into the sky. One fleeing plane fell out of the skies, spiraling and spewing orange flames to crash into the cape. The same cape where my family lived. Now they only live in my memories of days past. The victor circled around to confirm the kill. And on his craft, there was a large number 13 emblazoned in yellow. I will never forget this."