Many pilots of the time were the opinion that a fighter pilot in a closed cockpit was an impossible thing, because you should smell the enemy. You could smell them because of the oil they were burning.
quote by Adolf Galland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
That Smell
Whiskey bottles, and brand new cars
Oak tree you're in my way
There's too much coke and too much smoke
Look what's going on inside you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Angel of darkness is upon you
Stuck a needle in your arm
So take another toke, have a blow for your nose
One more drink fool, will drown you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Now they call you Prince Charming
Can't speak a word when you're full of 'ludes
Say you'll be all right come tomorrow
But tomorrow might not be here for you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Hey, you're a fool you
Stick them needles in your arm
I know I been there before
One little problem that confronts you
Got a monkey on your back
Just one more fix, Lord might do the trick
One hell of a price for you to get your kicks
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Ooooh that smell
Can't you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
song performed by by 3 Doors Down
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Smell
(allen collins - ronnie vanzant)
Whiskey bottles, and brand new cars
Oak tree youre in my way
Theres too much coke and too much smoke
Look whats going on inside you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Angel of darkness is upon you
Stuck a needle in your arm
So take another toke, have a blow for your nose
One more drink fool, will drown you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Now they call you prince charming
Cant speak a word when youre full of ludes
Say youll be all right come tomorrow
But tomorrow might not be here for you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Hey, youre a fool you
Stick them needles in your arm
I know I been there before
One little problem that confronts you
Got a monkey on your back
Just one more fix, lord might do the trick
One hell of a price for you to get your kicks
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
Ooooh that smell
Cant you smell that smell
Ooooh that smell
The smell of death surrounds you
song performed by by Lynyrd Skynyrd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Think I Smell A Rat
Oh I think I smell a rat
I think I smell a rat
all you little kids
seem to think you know
just where it's at
I think I smell a rat
walking down the street
carrying a baseball bat
I think I smell a rat
Oh I think I smell a rat
I think I smell a rat
all you little kids
seem to think you know
just where is at
I think I smell a rat
treating your mother and father
like a welcome mat
I think I smell a rat
song performed by by White Stripes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Like Smells
i like smells...
woodsmoke, and food,
black coffee in the morning.
the smell of rain,
of mud, of wetness.
the smell of the walls
of the cave, of the stone,
of the moss...
the smell of sex, of arousal,
of a woman's neck.
the smell of pine needles,
of an old house,
of fresh turned earth...
the smell of old books,
of old dogs, of shadows
without form...
i've even become accustomed
to the smell of death!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The fighter ace
It’s another thing
to take a jet with flaming afterburners
into the air
and to see the earth,
getting small beneath you -
I am told
At times I think
those fighter pilots,
are a species of their own
of the human race.
It’s a master fighter ace
that takes a slower plane
and shoot three Mig-23’s down
and is able to land,
a Mirage with a shot off tail
on the landing strip.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sweet Reprieve Rose
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
That was thrown on the battle field for my soul
The inevitable mortal wound waits for me on yonder hill
As the dawn breaks on the time transcribed for me
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
When he was first enclosed
For three dark days and three lonely nights
Until he returned unto the light
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
When we are first enclosed
Waiting for his trumpet to blow
And for all of his people to be called home
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
poem by Brian Kilpatrick
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smell Of Love
You left your smell in me
It won’t go with the ashes
I would not let wind carry it away
‘you are in me’, it would say!
When I stop being there
I would hold on to the smell
I would not let time take it away
‘love can’t die anyway’!
Moving around with your smell
Wherever I am heaven or hell
The spring of love would never dry
I would never let it die!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Most pilots learn, when they pin on their wings and go out and get in a fighter, especially, that one thing you don't do, you don't believe anything anybody tells you about an airplane.
quote by Chuck Yeager
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Smell of a Dog
I love the way a dog smells.
Ever since I was a boy,
I have loved the smell of a dog's paws,
leathery pads, edged with fur,
that absorb the rich, musty fragrances
of where the dog and I have been
in our adventures together.
I love the smell of the top of a dog's head,
where the fur is smoother than at any other
part of the animal
and is usually cleaner, too.
The top-of-the-head smell is fresher than the paw,
more like the smell of a little boy's hair
at the end of a summer's day in the sun.
I don't mind
the faint smell of skunk on a dog,
(but only if it's faint) .
Snuggling down for a nap
with my skunk flavored companion
lying next to me
puts me back in another time,
when the world was new,
waiting to be explored and discovered
by my friends and me and our dogs;
when the little lame balloon man
was simply another reason to wonder.
Battle Of Britain: Attacking Enemy Aircraft
Life is diced in fatal split seconds agonized flying.
Hurricane's weakness is comparative acceleration
offset by frame design extreme strength ruggedness.
Spitfire Me109 are dueling paired equals between
12,000 and 17,000 feet but above cut 20,000 feet;
Messerschmitt preys supreme out dived opponents;
but required much more skilled physical effort to fly.
Weak narrow undercarriage caused many fatal accidents
in take off especially landings in cramped cockpit but;
over Battle of Britain skies skill fate decides who dies?
Nazi Germany flies fighter aircraft veteran blood bathed legions.
Me109B-C models achieved blooded success in Civil War Spain.
Legion Condor's fighter unit spat swift death in floods of flames.
Lufwaffe's most successful wartime fighter pilots many received
operational blooding in Spain on developing early Me109 models.
August 1940 twenty-three Gruppen are in action on Channel front;
equipped mainly with new improved Me109E-3 which mounted;
death two machine guns in the nose two machine guns in the wings.
Nerves stretch various strengths shortcomings of Nazi Messerschmitt;
against RAF Hurricane RAF Spitfire largely cancelled out in combat.
Radar warns mass attacking enemy aircraft are;
coming in fighters fast scramble climb how far?
Operational heights gunfights haunt shot bar!
Good pilots dance a screaming dive dice death
combat inexperience quickly sliced new deck!
Youth pilots strapped into rotating blades in flight;
powered motors surge at prey target enemy bomber bay.
Rain of steel or bombs away a deadly game to play!
Good pilots trace desperate spins loops sky dives
roulette wheel slots death chanced blacks to reds!
Compasses fuel gauges throttle spinning rip firing burning;
fighting in 'Vic' fives on wing leader dealt death loosing.
Fighting in finger fours meant twos stay together winning?
Life survival paired few fighters survived lamb split alone
experienced Messerschmitt ME109s sought out stray solo sheep!
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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K-Car
To the memory of the Rhodesian Helicopter Pilots and
the 20mm cannon Gunner.Two men one helicopter;
known as K-car…..Killer-car.
A formidable force in the Rhodesian Bush War.
RHODESIAN K-CAR
‘Chopper’ pilot calmness,
Cannon gunner’s skill,
Two minds in perfect harmony,
Flew in now for the kill,
Ten comrades in arms,
Pinned down by enemy fire,
Ambushed and compromised,
Their backs now to the wire.
One pilot and one gunner,
Men who knew no fear,
S.O.S. came through to them,
Urgent… but so clear,
“K-car, Call sign Bravo, ”
“Contact, contact, contact”!
Pilot with nerves of steel,
And veraciously exact,
“We have you visual, four o’clock”,
Crackled in the pilot’s ear
He responded calmly “Roger
Call sign Bravo… illuminate a flare”
Flare lit up and in they flew,
Oblivious of the danger;
Twas deaths turn to roll the dice,
With life their coin of wager.
Two hands upon the cannon grips,
One finger on the trigger,
Gunner’s eye took a site,
Through peep site to the jigger;
Bullets ripped into the cockpit,
Of that killer-car machine,
Barely two year out of school,
K-car gunner… aged nineteen
Fire Force airborne pilot,
Turned cannon to the smoke,
Gunner pressed the trigger,
And the dragon now awoke;
Twenty millimeter cannon,
Boomed forth volcanic life
Spewing deadly rounds,
Of instant death and strife.
No place for enemy to hide,
From this matchless opponent;
Terrorists now in full flight,
Were gunned down in a moment.
The Kill-car hovered overhead,
Just six foot off the ground,
Two enemy lay screaming,
But from thirty dead…no sound.
Most men of war, whom I knew then,
Have turned now to the Lord,
They have turned into plow shears,
Their weapons and their sword.
Lord please teach us here in Africa,
Love for one another;
Take xenophobic intolerance from us,
Teach us to love our brother.
poem by Alf Hutchison
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Smell Of Money
(intro)
One more day, with a tumble fall,
Down the money pit, with nothing to show
Hey hey yeah
Another twist, in the horror tale
Its an open coffin, that needs one more nail
Smell of money
Maybe Im a victim, (soft silk and bamboo? )
Maybe its the smell of money
Attracts me to you...
Hey hey yeah money
Two clean shirts
Im out on bail
As the barroom baits
They start to wail
The smell of money
Maybe Im a victim, (soft silk and bamboo? )
Maybe its the smell of money,
That brings me to you
Stretched out across the ceiling
? ? domes shimmer and glow
Golden citadels
While the autumn wind billows and flows
(instrumental)
Dancing nights, in the lost and found
Move really nice to that money sound
Smell of money, smell of money,
Smell of money, smell of money
I need
I bleed
(sudden stop)
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Smell Of Money
(intro)
One more day, with a tumble fall,
Down the money pit, with nothing to show
Hey hey yeah
Another twist, in the horror tale
It's an open coffin, that needs one more nail
Smell of money
Maybe I'm a victim, (Soft silk and bamboo?)
Maybe it's the smell of money
Attracts me to you...
Hey hey yeah money
Two clean shirts
I'm out on bail
As the barroom baits
They start to wail
The smell of money
Maybe I'm a victim, (Soft silk and bamboo?)
Maybe it's the smell of money,
that brings me to you
Stretched out across the ceiling
?? Domes shimmer and glow
Golden citadels
While the autumn wind billows and flows
(instrumental)
Dancing nights, in the lost and found
Move really nice to that money sound
Smell of money, smell of money,
smell of money, smell of money
I need
I bleed
(sudden stop)
song performed by by Ufo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Smell Of The Wind
the smell of the wind
consoled some of the tears in my eyes
the smell of the wind
softened some of the pain in my heart
the smell of the wind
lifted my mood by an inche
the smell of the wind
it did something to me
poem by by unknown author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Song of Quoodle
They haven't got no noses,
The fallen sons of Eve;
Even the smell of roses
Is not what they supposes;
But more than mind discloses
And more than men believe.
They haven't got no noses,
They cannot even tell
When door and darkness closes
The park a Jew encloses,
Where even the law of Moses
Will let you steal a smell.
The brilliant smell of water,
The brave smell of a stone,
The smell of dew and thunder,
The old bones buried under,
Are things in which they blunder
And err, if left alone.
The wind from winter forests,
The scent of scentless flowers,
The breath of brides' adorning,
The smell of snare and warning,
The smell of Sunday morning,
God gave to us for ours
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
And Quoodle here discloses
All things that Quoodle can,
They haven't got no noses,
They haven't got no noses,
And goodness only knowses
The Noselessness of Man.
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Song of Quoodle
They haven't got no noses,
The fallen sons of Eve;
Even the smell of roses
Is not what they supposes;
But more than mind discloses
And more than men believe.
They haven't got no noses,
They cannot even tell
When door and darkness closes
The park a Jew encloses,
Where even the law of Moses
Will let you steal a smell.
The brilliant smell of water,
The brave smell of a stone,
The smell of dew and thunder,
The old bones buried under,
Are things in which they blunder
And err, if left alone.
The wind from winter forests,
The scent of scentless flowers,
The breath of brides' adorning,
The smell of snare and warning,
The smell of Sunday morning,
God gave to us for ours
*
And Quoodle here discloses
All things that Quoodle can,
They haven't got no noses,
They haven't got no noses,
And goodness only knowses
The Noselessness of Man.
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Smell Of A Woman
The smell of a woman,
When I am down there.
There's nothing on earth,
That quite can compare.
Earthy, moist, steamy, and rare,
Like tropical flowers perfuming the air.
The smell you find, at a womans core,
will make you want her, more, and more.
I can smell a woman across the street,
Way before our eyes will meet.
That delicate scent carried on the breeze,
Coming from a woman, seeking release.
The scent of a woman, when she is in heat,
You'll find yourself commonly looking for it.
And when I find it, it's a matter of time,
Till close up I smell that scent so sublime.
The smell of a woman all over my face,
The sweet scent of a woman, will have me crazed.
Don Juan Tenorio
poem by Don Juan Tenorio
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soul Burns
Soul Burns..
I smell the smell,
Of my burning soul.
The anonymous spirit,
Whom I know or not,
Tried to electrocute
Me and my serene soul.
With his blue electricity!
On the beach of the
Ocean of tear, I stroll;
The tricky horizon plays
With me the game of
Hide and seek!
Over there, in misty island
I Won't step in ever.
My burnt soul can't
Even breathe a prayer!
After the burning,
When there will be
Ashes only, then
My dead soul will take
New birth as a phoenix
To sing the song of
Innocence, for ever
And ever......
poem by Nilakshi Das
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballad Of Sal Villanueva
It's not that i don't trust you
i just know what you've been up to
and this dial tone is agreeing with everything i've had in mind.
and you've got your high as a kite tricks in the bag.
so as his eyes move down past your shoulders
and the shades start moving in the same direction
don't worry, i won't say a thing.
you can't blame a girl for sticking to what she knows.
i hope he takes his time
and i hope he keeps your eyes closed tight
and i hope that when he leaves,
you still smell him on your sheets
because i can, i can.
i hope he takes his time
and i hope he keeps your eyes closed tight
and i hope that when he leaves,
you still smell him on your sheets
because i can, i can.
if i could get to sleep
then, i guess you could stop pretending.
because if i didnt think you loved him
well then i would lay alone
and you've got your high as a kite tricks in the bag.
i hope he takes his time
and i hope he keeps your eyes closed tight
and i hope that when he leaves,
you still smell him on your sheets
because i can, i can.
i hope he takes his time
and i hope he keeps your eyes closed tight
and i hope that when he leaves,
you still smell him on your sheets
because i can, i can.
you're down for selling me out
while i play dumb,
but it's cool because i let you, you thought i'd never catch you,
you said "we're only friends." yeah, real good friends, i bet. i bet.
you're down for selling me out
while i play dumb,
but it's cool because i let you, you thought i'd never catch you,
you said "we're only friends." yeah, real good friends, i bet. i bet.
you're down for selling me out
while i play dumb,
but it's cool because i let you, you thought i'd never catch you,
you said "we're only friends." yeah, real good friends, i bet. i bet.
forget your legs around my hips.
forget your hands pressed on my back.
forget all the letters that i kept.
this is another i won't send.
forget your lips, your eyes, your thighs.
forget our one last kiss goodbye.
forget me staking out your house.
forget ive got you figured out.
forget your legs around my hips.
forget your hands pressed on my back.
forget all the letters that i kept.
this is another i won't send
song performed by by Taking Back Sunday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Somewhere Near The Lomba River
The guns of enemy tanks are flashing
like bolts of thunder while I am glancing,
the night air is full of the smell of cordite
and luckily those shots are passing
while the armoured car draws to a sudden halt
for its gun to take aim and on my lips I taste salt
before the armour piercing shell is fired
and at a direct hit around me the crew exalt
before at speed we move on
and some more enemy Cuban soldiers are gone,
are burnt in the fiery hell
while my heart, my brain feels like stone.
An enemy shell strikes another armoured car
like a exploding flaming star
and I can smell torched human flesh,
while I wish to be away very far,
to be away from killing
and this chilling
kind of machination of machines and men
who at each other are firing
but to survive we battle on right through the night,
are still trying to find some more enemies in the broad daylight,
find two abounded stationary pristine enemy battle tanks
from which the enemy had run in fright.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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