Did you know

Did you know that in WWII pilots used to travel across the Arctic, north north north in the endless dark and the endless freeze, in order to avoid flying over enemy ground? America to Britain, heat to heat, war surging and boiling and seething to the south, angry and red as a wound, and all this dreadful cold in between. Flying with just the roar of the engines and the whistle of the wind and the hush of your own breath, over emptiness and ice - but how could you find your way? The stars are different, up there. They spin in frozen circles. And planes would get lost, because the men couldn’t read the night sky that had always been their woman, their guide. Their compasses would wander aimlessly as would their plane, wandering aimlessly through the night. Those men were alone. Truly alone. They no longer knew their earth and their heaven. The needle did not point to north any more. They sat in metal birds at the top of the world, lost as little children.