A Different BreedI knew my grandfather well, or at least that's what I thought. My parents never had much time for me; they were both too busy enjoying the lifestyle of West German corporate work to spend much time with me, so I was accustomed to staying at his house for lengthy periods. I was a stereotypical attention-starved child and he was a skilled storyteller; we grew quite fond of each other, and I very much loved his stories. He told me of great battles in the not so distant past, of airmen who soared in the sky to do battle with one another. Far above the mud and blood on the ground, these men were of a different breed. His stories of chivalrous duel