WWII project... it's the first version anyways...I rewrote it earlier this month so that it fit as a written story for my English assignment. My teacher called it a "game", but I call it a lesson to show people how hard it was to get back from enemy lines. None of the story is true, but it has possibilities. I base credit for the copilot character solely on the main character of Under War Torn Skies, because the book gave me the entire idea to write the project in this manner. It can never be published, because my copilot is so close to the original idea. I could not change his personality or occurrences without ruining the entire feeling of the story. I'll post a copy of the second version later.
Missing In Action
Your worst fear is not landing behind enemy lines; it is getting caught.
Crew List
Persons choose their characters, but the smallest are almost always the Gunners. There are four Gunners totaled. Each have their "kit" which consists of fishing supplies, knife, pistol/revolver, medical supplies, two syringes of morphine, food rations, small blanket, and various other things.
Pilot- leads and guides the crew on missions.
Copilot- relief for pilot during missions and flight operations.
Engineer- trained to know the physics and servicing methods for everything on plane and also maintains the engines.
Bombardier- operates bomb hatch and sight and drops bombs onto targets.
Waist Gunner#1- great skill or luck needed to strike enemy fighters.
Radio Operator- handles receiver and communications during battle. Must tune frequencies correctly or signals would go wrong.
Nose Gunner- targets enemy planes from front of plane. Needs aggression.
Navigator- needs knowledge of mathematics and quick mind. Needs to know position during battles at all times even when in formation. Situations change so they need to know enemy territory.
Waist Gunner#2- great skill or luck needed to strike enemy fighters.
Tail Gunner- would inflict damage on enemy planes that are targeting his own plane.
Narrator Begins to Read from Here:
Each of you is given a job, maybe a pilot or an engineer. There are 10 positions in all in this game, but sometimes a crew consisted of only nine members. I’m sorry, but crews were consisted entirely of men, even the girls are seen as men in this “ game” (the women’s air force had its own separate squadron). Your situations are already chosen for you, but you will be asked questions about the situation such as reasons to reactions that would be made by the MIAs. There’s no acting and none of these situations truly occurred to any actual air force men, but the basic idea of the problems at hand were possible. In other words some men did get caught and were killed after they were shot down as they tried to get home and the world still does not know what happened to some of them and maybe never will. After France fell to Germany many of the citizens of France were against the German authority in their country and so underground systems were created to smuggle U.S, English, and other allied air force men out of France and onto neutral and allied soil. Many groups were much like Robin Hood’s Men in that they would live in camps out in forests beyond the German soldiers’ reach. They create diversions to keep the Germans running. They often stole supplies from German forces and used the weapons against them. Other times they received aid from supply drops from American and allied air forces. Deceitful means were created such as: espionage, hide a ways, travel agents (that moved soldiers with false passports and papers), etc. to make a dangerous chain of person to person transport of the illegal “cargo”. If one person were caught they could be tortured watching their own families die or be submitted to cruel torment in prisoner camps until finally naming another person in the chain, but still they risked their lives for their only hope that they would be freed by American and allied countries. For every one American that made it back home a large number (not able to be estimated) of Resistance workers lost their lives for them. This role playing “game” is based on the situations each crew member could have gone through and the people they could have met in the risk to get home.
You have gone through training and are now the crew members of a B-24 on a mission to drop supplies to resistance members in France. Mission Briefing explained that the drop would be over a field out in the country. You are to make it to that point and back while avoiding Nazi aircrafts that would kill you in an instant. Luckily you’re not carrying highly explosive missiles today. The Copilot’s job is to collect kits for each member of the crew before each flight, so that in case they were to be shot down they would have needed supplies that “should” cover the distance back home. The only problem was that sometimes it could take months even up to a year to make it back. Your Copilot remembered his job, of course, and your plane has had all its tests done and so the mission is ready to go. You make it there and are about to drop the supplies when enemies attack. The B-17’s push them off your tail and you drop the supplies to its position. Unfortunately two of your engines were hit and your plane will not make it back without a miracle. The Pilot and Copilot work to stabilize the plane as they gave the other members more time to escape. The Engineer called over the mouthpiece that all the rest of the crew was out. They both made their way to back to the bomb bays as the plane began to spin after another hit. The three gritted their teeth as they waited for it to stabilize again. The Engineer pushed them out as for a split second the plane paused in its spin.
*Your first worry, crew members, is your parachute. In training you all have learned that to make a successful fall, you must count 10 full seconds out before opening the parachute since the moment you had left the bomb bay or nose escape. If you wait too long you will fall too fast and the opening of the parachute could result in a broken collar bone or torn muscles. If you open it too soon you could be falling too slowly and you would still be in the midst of the battle; an easy target for stray gunfire.*
Your next problem is that when the parachute is open even when you are on or low to the ground you are a target for Nazis that often return to finish their enemy off. There is no possible way to avoid them. The copilot sees his superior almost level with him with a great distance between them. Just over his pilot’s parachute he recognizes a distinct shape returning. There is no way for him to help the pilot and soon him and his parachute are shot by the Nazi aircraft and are falling fast to the ground. Even if the pilot had survived the gun fire he would be crushed upon landing on the ground. The Germans soon turn on the Copilot, but “thankfully” they only were able to hit his parachute. He falls fast before hitting the ground and he hears the crack as his leg breaks beneath him. He lies on the ground beneath his parachute and doesn’t move.
The Waist Gunner#1 landed in the forest. His parachute caught on the branches and stopped his fall. He threw his arm out to stop his collision with the tree, but his wrist broke in the process and he hit his head on a branch before he blacked out.
He finds himself in the river. Water was the worst thing for a parachuting flier to land in, as many of the American flyboys of the Pacific soon found out and would from then on learn in the academies. If possible it is better to cut your parachute off before landing in the water, because the chute will pull you under as this navigator will soon learn on his own, because they never taught it to the Air Force in Europe. He was taken under instantly and it tangled around his body in the current, pulling him down. He was able to get a hold on the knife in his flight suit and hacked at the ropes that held him. He had noticed too late where he was landing to steer himself away, but soon enough to hold his breath knowing that he would go under at least for a short while upon landing in the water. As he cut the last rope of his chute he lost consciousness and the current took him where it pleased.
The Waist Gunner#2 lay under his parachute until the gunfire ended before getting up and dusting himself off. There was no one as far as the eye could see. He knew nothing as to the rest of the crew. After he had opened his parachute he only counted eight others falling at different levels and some could have been from another craft shot down as well. They were all too far apart to be certain. He decided that the forest would be the best place to hide from the Germans and he hoped that it would be the best place to come across the wild French rebels he had been sent all this way to drop supplies to and knew were his only allies at this point. After wandering in the forest for hours he came across an abandoned cabin in a small clearing that was far from any town. He wondered who had lived there and why they had wanted to be so far from any other people.
Most of the people in the air force had enlisted as he did, and just like them, he had expected the flying and glory, not this. He was just a kid out of High School wanting to be called a man by his ol’ man. He had thought it all was a game you could never lose. You just shoot a plane, not a human face and so it saves you from calling yourself a murderer, but now he knows what he had signed up for. He knew that he was now one of the names on the ever growing list of people who might not make it back alive. The Bombardier landed in a field alright. He could see no one. He could still see the fight raging over him, so he laid on his back where he had fallen, staring at the sky above. The Germans flew over him, thinking he was dead. One of the Germans took a miss turn and collided with an American craft. The explosion was far from the displays on the Fourth of July that he was used to. He got up and ran, after frantically unlatching his parachute. The forest gave a little protection for him from the falling debris that fell in shards as sharp as broken glass. He ran until the debris stopped falling. When he stopped he bent over gasping for breath and clutching the stitch in his side. He jumped when a hand clapped down on his shoulder and he fell over in the dirt, scrambling away. The man laughed and said something in French that he couldn’t understand and offered his hand to the fallen boy. The man shrugged when the boy did not take it and turned back around after the boy had stood up and punched him hard in the stomach. The boy collapsed and breathed out some cuss he had picked up at the flight academy that his mother would cringe at. “What’d’ja do that for?!”
The man laughed and shrugged, “My policy is that a man cusses in the language his momma has taught him.” He said with a thick French accent. “I may have another American for you to look at. I can’t do anything about him until he awakens unless you can recognize him.” The Bombardier saw a large Frenchman carrying a man in uniform over his shoulder. “Go ahead and take a look. He may be someone you know of.”
The Bombardier cautiously went over and recognized the Waist Gunner#1 immediately, “Yeah, I know him.” He said remembering all the times they had been caught playing poker in the barracks and pulling pranks during briefings. They were from separate states, but they got along best, because they were the youngest in their crew.
“Alright, well then you’ll care for him until he wakes up. He got caught up in a tree and knocked his head, real bad. His wrist doesn’t look too good either.”
The Tail Gunner looked around and couldn’t find anyone. All the others had fallen a great distance away from him. When he was falling he could hardly hear the noise of the dogfight and realized that the wind had blown him far away from all the others. His landing was easy and he felt no threat in the remote area. He wandered among the trees for hours before he heard the planes returning home over his head. He cried out to them, but knew that they won’t be able to hear him. He hoped that sometime soon he would be able to make it to someone who would help him get home. That night he would sleep under the parachute for warmth, but it rained.
The Radio Operator and the Nose Gunner landed not too far from each other. Stupidly, the Gunner stripped off his parachute and ran towards him. After cussing under his breath, the Operator got up and took off his own. Both men now had to run for cover as a German plane spotted them. They ran to a river not far away and dove under the surface as the bullets whizzed past them. They hid in the weeds until dark before making their way out. The Gunner climbed out of the water onto the banks and tripped (he’s possibly the most skillful crew member). His foot was caught on the abandoned parachute of the Navigator who was no where to be found (obviously he did not know it was the Navigator). He untangled his foot and they both walked for a long while until finding a barn by nightfall to hide in.
.
An over view so far of the dead and wounded:
Pilot- Dead
His body was found tangled by his parachute in a tree in the forest by the French villagers and buried in an unmarked grave. He will never be found.
Engineer- Dead
Body will never be found after he couldn’t get out of the plane in time.
Copilot- Injured
Broken Leg
Waist Gunner#1-Injured
Broken Wrist and Unconscious
Navigator-
Unconscious, but alright
Waist Gunner#2-
Alright so far
Bombardier-
Alright so far
Tail Gunner-
Extremely cold, but alright
Radio Operator-
Alright so far
Nose Gunner-
Alright so far
The Copilot unlatched the parachute and crawled to the woods. His knees were bleeding by the time he reached it and his leg screamed with pain. He found a branch and used it as a crutch. He pulled a morphine syringe out of his kit and injected it. He wondered how long it would take for him to get to a hospital on only two doses of morphine in a German occupied France. He used another branch and tied it as a brace for his leg with a handkerchief and began the long walk to any village hoping that someone would find him before the Nazis, because he knew that they would never take pity on any American.
The Waist Gunner#2 found food in the cellar of the cabin. Apparently it had not been abandoned too long before. On the shelves are rows of books all in French. There were several diagrams for some kind of explosive hidden in the cover of one book. He realized that they were written in English and so had to be from a supply drop. He found matches, tinder, and wood for a fire in the hearth. Despite the night growing cold he decided not to light a fire out of fear. Instead he went to sleep in the bed still dressed in his dirty clothes, wrapped in an old blanket.
She discovered him while taking her laundry out to be washed. She dropped her basket and pulled him up the bank. “You’re American!” She said shocked and shook him trying to wake him. “Wake up. I can not help you if you don’t.” The Navigator's eyes opened feebly and she helped him to his feet. “Lean on me, it is not that far I assure you.” She quickly led him back to her estate. He’s too weak to resist. He was just relieved that she spoke English.
The Waist Gunner#1 awoke in a tent finding the Bombardier beside him. He doesn’t remember anything about the war or even his own name. “Look at your dog tags. Come on, stop joking with me.”
“I really don’t know!”
“This is really not funny, cut it out.”
“Where are we?”
“France, you twit! I really mean it this isn’t funny. Listen, we are at war and you’re a gunner in the American Air Force…”he shook his head then whispered. “This really isn’t the place. You can get us both killed if you say you’re not in the Air Force. They’re suspicious of any air crew left out here!”
“Will they really kill us?!” The gunner asked horrified.
“Yes! We’re at war with Germany! They worry about spies.”
“I thought that war was over 20 years ago!”
“It is! This is a different war!” He rolled his eyes, “You’d better keep your mouth shut while we’re here or so help me God, I will kill you before they kill us both!”
The gunner quieted for a moment. “I’m really not joking, I don’t remember. What happened to me?”
“The plane was shot down during a supply drop. I don’t know about any of the others in our crew. They could be all dead; I don’t know. The rebel said you were caught in a tree and they cut you out, but you had hit your head on something and was knocked out cold when they got there. Please, if you don’t ruin this for us. This is our only chance to get out of here alive. If you don’t ruin this, I’ll make sure we both get out of this.”
The gunner nodded. “I won’t say anything.”
The Tail Gunner shivered as he got up. He was stiff from the cold and so began his walk again. He could still find no one in sight and his kit was running out of the travel sized food. If he didn’t find another source soon he would starve. The others could all be dead by now, he thought. He was tired and didn’t know where he was going. Suddenly he heard an engine in the distance. He ran towards it. When he saw the humvee he turned back and ran. He scrambled up the bank he had slid down from and climbed on his hands and knees, but it was too late. They had seen him. They shot him in the shoulder, because they wanted him alive. The last thing he saw was the butt of the rifle as it knocked him out.
They were caught by the farmer in the morning. He yelled at them in French and when they did not understand he shook his head and spat on the ground, saying “Americans”. He threw his pitchfork into the pile of hay barely missing the Radio Operator. He motioned for them to stay and then climbed down the ladder from the hay loft. From a hole in the barn wall they saw him calling his boy over. The wife came out of the house and argued with him after he told her something about the Americans. When he raised his hand to slap her she flinched and backed away. The boy grudgingly went to town to do as the father asked. The father went back to the house and with the wife and he returned alone to the barn with food and a bottle of water. He smiled as he handed them the food, saying something in French they couldn’t decipher and left. They heard an engine as they were eating and looked out the hole in the wall to find a humvee pulling into the farm with the boy on the back looking sadly towards the barn. The wife spooked them from behind. With a thick accent she said, “My husband is doing you wrong.” She led them down the ladder to the back of the barn. “Take this.” She handed the Gunner a shovel. “When you get to the edge of the woods look for a large tree with a ribbon tied to the branch, dig beneath it and you will find several rifles. My brother is in the Resistance. Take them and my son to him, eh?” She called her boy and he came running in. They could now hear the German soldiers trying to speak French outside the doors of the barn with the farmer. She pushed him towards them speaking something to him in French. The boy shook his head and began to cry, but she shooed them off, saying “Hurry!!” The Operator grabbed the boy and half carried him out of the barn with the Gunner running beside him. In a glance he saw her raising a pistol and he turned the boy away from his mother. “Vive la France!” He heard her say behind him before she pulled the trigger only one shot rang out. They ran to the forest knowing that she wouldn’t be taken alive.
Overview of the living:
Copilot-Injured
Waist Gunner#1-Injured and Amnesia
Navigator-Alright so far
Waist Gunner#2-Alright so far
Bombardier-Alright so far
Tail Gunner-Injured (Shot in Shoulder) Unconscious, POW
Radio Operator-Alright so far
Nose Gunner-Alright so far
He reached the village by nightfall. It was completely deserted. The pain in his leg was unbearable and yet he was determined not to use his last dose of morphine too quick. The cobble stone paths were slippery from rain and if one villager heard him fall and looked out their window he knew he’d be done for. He tripped as he climbed the church steps and bit back the urge to scream from the pain. He tried the church doors, but they wouldn’t budge. Locked and he hadn’t expected that. He punched the door in anger and sat down on the stairs. He wagered the possibilities. He wouldn’t be able to make it much farther and making it out of the town before noon was out of the question at his rate. He sat back and closed his eyes to pace himself. The pain was getting to his head and making it hard for him to think. He heard the doors unlock behind him and he stood quickly and backed out of the way, nearly falling down the stairs as it opened. A priest, half his size stepped out and glared at him loudly saying, “We do not admit traveling bums!” He put his hands on his hips, angrily shouting, “Do you hear me?! You are beyond charity, so be gone!” He turned away and lowered his voice too a whisper. “Go around back.” The small priest left him and locked the doors behind him.
Waist Gunner#2 woke up to find a man standing over him. “Did you have fun rifling through my things?” He jumped up wide awake and aware that there was activity outside the cabin. The man leaned against the wall. “Now that you have awakened, we can go. We have a long day ahead of us and I’d like to get a good start if you don’t mind.” He tossed a bunch of civilian clothes to him and told him to get dressed.
He woke up in a bed far better then the one he had left back home or maybe he thought that just because he hadn’t slept in his old bed in more than a year. He was now dressed in civilian clothes that he didn’t remember putting on and his things were laid out on the balcony off the room. He found his dog tags hanging on the bed post and put them on. “You slept well.” She said as she entered the room with a tray of food. “All yesterday and last night, I was becoming worried that you would never wake up.”
He smiled.
“What cat got your tongue? Why so shy and silent? I’m the only one in this old house to change you out of those wet clothes while you’re passed out on the floor and I get no ‘Thanks for pulling me out of the river, Ana’?” She said in a sing song way before shaking her head.
He laughed and apologized.
She grinned wickedly, “All is forgiven if you eat my cooking, so sit down.” She set the food on the table and sat down across from him. “I’m glad I found you before they did. This house gets so lonely sometimes. It used to be so full of people and laughter that would cover all the echoes. The servants all left without their pay when this war began and all my brothers and sisters moved to London. I stayed behind because it is my home and I can not leave France at the hands of traitors, enemies, and idiots.” She said sadly as she poured him tea as he ate listening. “My brother said that it’s like the world war has begun all over again. He couldn’t bear to watch it all over again on our soil and I told him that we would lose, because the Germans only seek revenge and that it has consumed them. No one can stop the Germans now unless they collapse under their own power. We lost our parents in that war. I was too young to remember. I’ve been raised by my older siblings.” She explained, “Twenty-two years later and I’m an orphan all over again.” She passed him some bread. “I bet you have family at home, no? That all hope with all their hearts that you are safe, but it is because of this filthy war that you are stuck here in the first place and nobody is safe here, not even me.”
“But the Resistance…Don’t they protect you?”
“Ha! The Resistance out here is close-minded and unorganized. They won’t take me in now, because I flirted with a German Officer to get some information for them.” She laughed when she noticed his surprise. “They called it two faced and traitorous, but don’t worry, you are far cuter then he was.” She grinned as she went to collect his things off the balcony, while he was still speechless. “I have to take you to town with me. You will be…my cousin visiting for the month to keep me company.” She made up as she put his belongings in a leather bag and handed it to him. “Remember that you can not speak, alright? You are already listening to that one already anyways.” She laughed and tucked his dog tags under his shirt for him. “Ready?”
He nodded as she laughed again. She poured brandy into two glasses and handed one to him. “To France and America, may they live eternally as allies!” She toasted before she downed the glass and set it on the table. He did the same. “Now we go!” She said, linking arms with him.
“I think I remember something!” he whispered to the Bombardier. “Maybe from one of the missions!” The Bombardier slowed down to listen. It had been weeks since the Waist Gunner #1 had lost his memory. They were alone in the woods collecting firewood. “It was over the radio I think. You were talking to our pilot about a missile being jammed in the rack and he told you to just find a way to get it out.” He picked up a large branch.
“And?”
“You got it out somehow and you sounded both exhausted and relieved over the line.”
The Bombardier nodded. “Do you remember any other mission?”
“I remember seeing a plane explode on our first one. All I know is that I didn’t want it to happen to us.”
“At least you remember being in the air force…”
“Oy! Americans!?
The crewmen both turned to see as a Frenchman running towards them. “That’s enough firewood for today!”
They felt another reason to his coming out to them as they walked beside him back to camp. “They found another American.” He said sadly. “He’s dead and buried by now of course. He was found completely mangled in the trees! A lot of bones broken and whatnot. Tangled in his own parachute, but that wasn’t what killed him though. He was shot by Nazis before he even landed in the trees.”
The Bombardier asked if they had found the man’s name and the Frenchman handed him the dog tags. He recognized the name immediately and remembered all the stories of the man’s little girl back home learning her first words dictated through letter.
He coughed. The ropes were too tight, that held him to the chair and his shoulder ached horribly.
“How was your little nap, eh?” The German asked out of his line of sight. The voice echoed in the small room.
The Tail Gunner closed his eyes now knowing where he was. The bare light bulb overhead shined no light to the corners and he could hear far off screams that didn’t seem too distant.
“How about I let you out? You seem uncomfortable under all those ropes.” The German officer appeared out of one of the corners flanked by two soldiers.
“I’m fine thank you.” He rasped.
“No really, I should help you out.” He cut the ropes and tipped the chair so that he sprawled out on the floor.
The Tail Gunner then realized why his shoulder ached so badly. The blood was still coated to the wound and it had not been taken care of. The German pulled him up by the bad shoulder. “If you do as we ask you will possibly get that taken care of.”
He could feel the empty space where his tags used to rest and realized that they knew his name and everything about him. “Just kill me now and get it over with.” His voice rasped.
“But where’s the fun in that?”
They found the guns where she had said. There were five in all and the boy carried two of the automatic rifles as they tried to stay as far from the path as was possible. The boy weaved in and out of the trees constantly ending up waiting for them up ahead. Tears blurred his eyes, but he knew the path uphill by heart. They came to a halt when they saw him seated on the ground in the brush with the guns loaded and ready. “Now we wait.”
Overview:
Copilot-Injured
Waist Gunner#2- Alright
Navigator- Alright
Waist Gunner#1- broken wrist, Amnesia letting up
Bombardier- Alright
Tail Gunner- POW injured
Radio Operator- Alright
Nose Gunner- Alright
He fainted as they had pulled him into the church. Possibly to the relief that he didn’t have to deal with it all anymore and knowing that they would care for him no matter what his condition.
When he awoke he heard a boisterous laugh from a French nurse as she went on with her story to the other nurses. It held no interest or meaning to him because it was all in French. She placed a tray of food in front of him and began to adjust the wrapping and harness on his leg. He wasn’t in the church anymore from what he could tell and he was dressed in a thin hospital gown and wrapped in a wool blanket. She reached into her pocket and when all the other nurses were looking away she handed him his dog tags.
“Don’t ever say a word here, understand?” She whispered. “Hide those beneath your pillow and don’t let anyone see them.”
Confused he did as she asked as she let out another peal of laughter and addressed one of the nurses going into another rapid conversation of French.
Over the weeks that his leg healed men in uniforms and business suits came in off and on asking him questions in French, German, English, and several other languages that he couldn’t recognize. He guessed that they were the same questions over and over again asking his name, the date of his last mission, where he was from, etc., but each time he said nothing as she had advised. When the doctor finally labeled his leg healed, he saw her again.
Waist Gunner#2 climbed into the back of one of the Resistance’s jeeps. “You like it? We stole them off some Germans last week. They weren’t too pleased about it and we now know why!” The man said. “Don’t feel bad about the cabin, mate. It’s good that you found it. You’re lucky we had to come through and picked up a few things. I mean it could have been weeks until we come next time.”
The Gunner watched as they cleared out the cellar of barrels. He had never thought that under the apples he had found was loads of ammunitions and hand grenades.
The man watched his line of sight. “Here I’ll show you; squeeze, pull pin, and you throw… if it ends up short you better get out before the 10 seconds are up.” He replaced the pin and put it back in his pocket. “I bet you Air Force men don’t deal with this kind of trench work.” He said obviously jealous.
He nodded agreement. “I shoot guns, not bombs, but it’s just as hard. You only have a sheet of glass holding you in place between the moon and the ground.”
The leader nodded understanding.
After a long silence of them watching the other members gathering needed supplies he asked. “Will I make it out of here?”
“It’s possible, but highly unlikely… Welcome to the Resistance, monsieur; where the labor is hard, the fight is good, and life is short, so live it well for how long you’ve got is not what you want. Most call me Sarge, but you may call me what you wish.”
“Vite, Vite. Come along! We have to meet him before he goes to the orphanage!” They hurried down the country road to town. She took his hand and dragged him on. “Bon Jeur! Monsieur!” She said to one man and explained to him in French who the American was before going on. “I told him about you being my cousin who had arrived last evening. Pierre is a gossiper so everyone will see you as my cousin by the next hour.” She dragged him on to the church and inside found it empty of all people. She pushed him into one of the pews. “I will meet with the priest. He will help us.” She went to the confessional as he sat acting as though he were praying and in fact turned out to be praying as he watched her disappear behind the door. “Bless me father for I have sinned.” She began in French before saying, “I have another who has sinned as well. We wish to seek redemption in a better place.”
When no one answered her the screen opened and in place of the priest was a Nazi officer wiping the blade of his knife. “It’s a pity to have to kill a God’s man. I do hope that he will forgive me.”
She screamed and backed out of the confessional tripping over her own feet as she ran out the door with the Navigator. “They’ll kill everyone!” The tears ran down her cheeks. “The priest was not even safe from their hand! They’ll kill everyone in town next!” She pulled him on. “I know of one other for us to go to.” She assured him.
“The other camp is on mission, so I need everyone watching on patrol. The rest I want working on equipment.” He nodded to the Americans. “You will translate radio signals to what we can understand.”
The Waist Gunner#1 and Bombardier looked at each other. Everyone understood that the leader was on edge even though both camps had been on missions before. They wondered what made this one so different.
He was tortured for over a week non stop. Besides starving him, one of the methods was a bucket of water and being held down until he lost his breath and then a second later being plunged under again before gaining his breath back. They did it over and over until he passed out. After, he woke up to a whole new horror and after that another. It felt like years of torment when they were through and when they realized that he had no information for them they stood him in a different room beside others in as bad shape as he was some even worse. He could barely stand and couldn’t think straight. If he could, he would have noticed the purpose of the room from the blood on the walls and floor. In mafia Valentine’s Day fashion, three men filed in and pulled out rifles and shot every man in the room. They were all buried in a mass grave just outside the entrance to the building that was hidden way out in the woods.
The boy sat wide awake watching the road below them. When they heard the engines coming, the boy motioned for them to follow him. The jeeps trailed in a line of about five vehicles below and when the first came just below them the boy jumped off and landed on the roof. Each in turn followed suit. The Radio Operator threw the strap of the gun over his head and took the jump last. His foot lost its hold and he would have gone down had it not been for the hand that caught him and pulled him in through the back. “Is that my nephew with you?” The Sarge asked his hand still gripped tightly on the collar of his shirt. The Operator nodded scared out of his mind before he finally noticed the Waist Gunner#2 seated beside him.
“He’s a real spitfire that one, Just like his mother.” The driver laughed over his shoulder.
Sarge told him to shut up in French before turning back to the Operator. “What happened? What went wrong?!”
“The father sent the boy off to get the Germans and she told us to bring you these guns and the boy. By the time I realized what she was doing, I had only enough time to turn the boy away. I’m so sorry! I didn’t know and now she’s dead!”
The Sarge nodded and punched the seat in front of him as he cussed under his breath in French. When they arrived at the destination he ordered the three Americans around. “You will come with us and I want you to stay behind and watch the boy.” He said to the Waist Gunner #2 and then in turn to the Radio Operator. “Keep him here. He’s too young for this.”
The boy argued with him before finally staying with the Operator.
“And you will come with us.” He said to the Nose Gunner.
The group disappeared leaving the Operator and boy behind. For about an hour there was complete silence when finally it was broken by the sound of an explosion and guns going off. The Operator and boy started the engines on the jeeps before he climbed behind the wheel of the last with the boy beside him. The group rushed back to the jeeps carrying the dead and wounded grateful that they were ready to go. The Operator followed the line of jeeps as the Nose Gunner babbled behind him. “One second he was there fighting the Germans beside me and the next he was down! He’s dead!”
“Who’s dead?!” The Operator yelled over the engines.
“The Waist Gunner, He’s dead!”
The Operator looked over his shoulder and saw him lying on the floor of the jeep and he punched the steering wheel in frustration. “Why does this happen to us?!”
They buried him beside Sarge and the other dead. Some of the wounded would linger for weeks in pure agony, but because of no proper supplies or care each in turn died and was buried side by side in unmarked graves. The Operator wore the dead gunner’s tags hoping that some way he would get out of this alive to tell his family what went wrong. For about two weeks after the mission their job was as gravediggers.
Overview:
Copilot- Injured
Waist Gunner#2- Dead
Navigator- Alright
Waist Gunner#1- Injured
Bombardier- Alright
Nose Gunner- Alright
Radio Operator- Alright
Tail Gunner- Dead
The nurse pushed him in a wheelchair towards the door. They had given him civilians’ clothes out of the charity box. The sun blinded him as they left the building. She pushed him to an alley where she handed him a set of crutches before she went behind a dumpster to change into a pretty flowered dress. “We have to get to the train depot and catch a train to our aunt’s house on the coast. There are so many Germans on the coast and so it is the last place they’d think we’d hide an American. Alright?
He nodded knowing that she had probably done this a hundred times before. She walked beside him explaining small details that he should expect and as people walked past she stopped the conversation. He was slow on the crutches, but she slowed to match his pace making him feel less awkward and suspicious.
“We are to meet our aunt at the next stop.” He nodded as he understood. “Do you speak any French?”
“Only what I learned in High School.” He answered embarrassed at his ignorance.
“Not good. Don’t talk at all. I’ll just say that you’re shy.” She bought the tickets and led them to the train where German soldiers stopped them for questioning. She spoke in rapid French explaining that “Paul” had fallen out of a tree in their orchard, when he heard a squeal over his shoulder. “Paul! Marie!” A brunette haired girl ran towards them speaking something in French about not seeing them in years. She hugged them tightly and asked the other girl about the family as the officers backed away not bothering them anymore. She pushed them up the stairs and followed quickly behind, leading them to an empty booth. “I have to pick up a package, so I will see you later, Marie.” The brunette disappeared leaving them alone in the booth. When he tried to ask her a question she shushed him and handed him a book written completely in French that he couldn’t decipher even the title page of. He acted as though he were reading as she sat near the door of the booth fake reading a paper as she watched the corridor outside for the officers in case they returned. He soon fell asleep.
The Navigator and girl ran blindly down the streets of the village. When they reached an alley she knocked on a door as they tried to catch their breath. She spoke to the man at the door rapidly in French to the man that answered. He swore in French when he heard the story then looked up and saw the Navigator. He shook his head and began to close the door. She blocked him and pleaded with him for help. He looked down both ends of the alley before waving them in.
“I found him in the river; could there be more of them that survived?”
“Most likely, yes, but who knows if they survived on the ground? Some have probably made it into the system, by now or else have gotten caught. Have they seen you with him?”
She nodded.
He swore again. “Look; I will try as much as I can to get the news out of the town genocide, alright? But I have no clue as to how many will get it in time. You have to travel as cargo with him; because they will catch you soon enough if I don’t get you out.”
She nodded again.
“It is good that you told me, but this information is far too late. There is no time to tell the Resistance in time for them to help. I have no idea when it could start; tomorrow, next week, next month, who knows?!” He scrambled around the small apartment room gathering cloth he had made. “You’re at least lucky that I have enough cloth made, so that I am due for a trip to the market. I want you to hide in the wagon and I will find a way.”
They raided the camp. That is why the leader had been worried. He saw them kill the Waist Gunner#1 and he barely made the escape. The pilot’s dog tags cut into his hand as he held them too tightly praying to the pilot like he was a saint that could really get him home with a miracle. He waded across the river with the small percent that had escaped alive. A girl tripped on the rocks beneath her and nearly was taken away with the strong current brought up from the last storm. He caught her and helped her up. “Merci.” She sputtered as she coughed the water out of her lungs. The silence returned soon after. They were all too tired to talk and even if they could they only spoke French and so wouldn’t understand him. They climbed a hill and froze when they had reached the top. They watched in awe as smoke billowed over the tops of the trees from the direction of the town. They could hear the screams of the people from where they stood. The girl he had helped collapsed in hysterics weeping and screaming. The only word he understood was “Nazis”. A few others tried to comfort her as he numbly realized that her family was down there.
The Resistance group brought them to their camp. It was completely destroyed. The small portion that had survived the attack that they had futilely pushed themselves, most probably would not survive another month. Camp was moved constantly as they tried to escape the Germans who chased them like animals. At one point they passed through a town completely devastated. The buildings had been burned to hide the slaughter. The charred remains were like ghosts that chilled them to the bone.
They were not able to get supplies from Allies, because of their constant movement and the Germans were gaining on them. After they had been running for almost a month they heard a transmission over the channel that there was a soldier run passing through their area. The French pushed them to meet the “shepherd”, but the Nose Gunner refused. He was beginning to understand the language and had decided to stay behind. “I can do more here than being shipped off back home.” He took off his dog tags and handed them to the Operator. “Quite the morbid collection you seem to be gathering.” He joked. “Tell my family where I am. I don’t want them to feel bad if I don’t get back after all this and if you don’t get back, no hard feelings, okay?”
The Radio Operator nodded.
“Don’t feel bad. One of us has got to stay here and help keep up good morals. Vive La France!” He called back to the Resistance who cheered and brought up the call again.
The Operator laughed despite the conditions of their goodbye. “Vive La America!” he said before he slid down the embankment. The gang of air force men and their transporter raised their guns as he raised his hands in surrender. They looked him over and asked him questions before allowing him to follow with them. He looked over his shoulder, but the Resistance was already gone.
Overview:
Copilot- Somewhat healed
Navigator- Alright
Waist Gunner#1- Dead
Bombardier- Alright
Nose Gunner- Stayed Behind
Radio Operator- Alright
They got off the train and a middle aged woman met them. Around her eyes were creases from years of worry. “Mademoiselle! Monsieur!” She grinned when she saw them. The look of worry immediately disappeared. She spoke in rapid French that was too quick for him to decipher and she frowned when he did not understand. After warm welcomes she led them to her car where the old driver sped off as soon as he got back behind the wheel. As soon as they were safely within the car the woman broke out in anger. “How dare you bring an American into my home?!” She glared at the girl. “Have I told you not a hundred times?! I only take in French runaways! An orphan here, an escaping Resistance worker there, but no Americans!” She looked apologetically to the American. “Forgive me, sir, but my niece over exceeds her limitations!”
“Julie, please! I brought him from the church. He was badly injured!”
“The church! The padre over estimates my hospitality!”
“The padre is dead, Julie!” The girl said as the Aunt’s eyes grew wide. “The Germans went in to question him as we got the American out! The people said they had found him in the confessional murdered! When we went back, the town was in flames!”
The aunt crossed herself and prayed a Hail Mary in French. “Fine! We will take him in; but on one condition that when he gets the chance, he goes.”
The girl agreed.
“What about Paul and Marie?” the aunt asked confusing the American.
“Paul left to transport cargo and Marie had to pick up a package. We met her as we got on the train.” She answered before explaining that they were never referred to by their real names outside the house and that all the men were called Paul and all the girls Marie, because they were very popular names in France and so their identities would never be discovered if anything went wrong.
The aunt interrupted them, “How do we fake him as family? He doesn’t even look French!”
The girl rolled her eyes, “Says the aunt that tried to speak to him in French.”
The Bombardier watched as the Germans drove their humvee below them. The French woman watched from over his shoulder. The cave was hidden from below. They knew that the Germans would never find them, because they didn’t know the cave existed. She pulled him back into the cave. There was no fire to keep them warm, so the huddle opened to allow them in the small circle. He could count their number on two hands-seven had survived the massacre. In the cold cave they now hid like rats from the light. He sat down beside the girl and put his hand down behind him before quickly retracting it. The clammy feeling of a human skull had met his fingers and sent chills down his back. The girl noticed his discomfort and explained in rough English, “The old ones.”
The Navigator and girl lay at the bottom of the wagon. Every bump in the road caused another splinter to break the skin. As they reached the gates of the village German soldiers stopped them. They punctured the cloth with a bayonet and it cut into the girl’s hand. The Navigator clapped his hand over her mouth to stop her screams.
“Stop! Stop!” The traveler yelled in French, “You will ruin my cloth!”
The girl fainted when they pulled it out. After a few more words were exchanged the French traveler was allowed to pass.
The Radio Operator followed the gang until finally the man stopped on the rocky path. He pointed them down one path and as they went down it they turned to see the guide changing the signs to the opposite directions before going back the way he came.
There were two Russian air force men that didn’t speak a word of English and so kept to themselves and one British airman that complained too much. It was still better then traveling alone. After several hours of them walking the forest became too quiet. He shushed the English man and told them all to wait while he went to check up ahead. The men all refused not trusting their new companion just yet and they all followed quietly behind him. As they walked around the bend they spotted their new guide smoking a cigarette. He waved them to follow him and he led them down the trail. After awhile he stopped them to rest and went on ahead. One of the Russians did not trust him and so followed. After ten minutes passed they all decided to go after him. The Russian had been right in not trusting the new guide. They found him tied and gagged in the back of a humvee. The Germans caught them as well. The other Russian was shot and killed as he “tried to escape”.
Overview:
Copilot- Alright
Bombardier- Alright
Navigator- Alright
Radio Operator- POW
The family was crazy. He realized that as soon as he entered the house. Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, and Siblings ran rampant throughout the house of all ages. Of course half of them weren’t really related, but if you tried to guess you mainly would get it wrong. Everyone spoke rapid French except him and so he sat in the kitchen where the girl did all her chores. The kitchen was the heart of the house. Everyone met in the kitchen to talk news, eat, talk about who was new in the house, and eat. There were always dishes to be washed and so he did them for her so that no one would address him. Unfortunately his plan didn’t work.
“You’re the new kid, no?” A Frenchman asked as he set his cup in the water. “I notice new faces better then them.” He bragged with rough English.
“Leave him alone, Charlie.” The girl said as she stirred the pots on the stove.
“I bet you have a soft spot for this one.” He teased. “It is too bad you didn’t have one for me.” He said with false pity while clutching at his heart and acting faint.
“Oh, Shut up!” she punched him and he laughed. Charlie said something in French that he didn’t understand and she slapped him.
“He’s a keeper!” He said as he raced out of the kitchen before she could slap him again.
“Don’t mind him. He’s crazy.” She said with her face red with embarrassment.
Five minutes later Charlie came running back into the room filled with excitement. “The Allies are attacking!” He yelled and laughed. “They are winning!”
The girl turned her head away from her cooking as her aunt stepped in to take over. “Where did you hear this?”
“It’s on the radio! They are all just as surprised as we are! Even the German stations are reporting it!” He said as he turned the kitchen radio on and everyone in the room quieted as the Frenchman announced the German defeat and that the Americans now occupied their place of Bellecombe La Cuiller and they are now free. The room was in an uproar of laughter; an hour before they were hiding from Germans and now they could walk the streets and proclaim that America and the other Allies were friends. “You will go home safe.” The girl said happily “And France will live on. I am happy that all of us have lived to see this day!”
“Vive La France.” He said smiling at the good fortune they now had.
By the campfire he wrapped a bandage around her hand carefully. She sat tired and angry. “Why? Why do Nazis rule over our lives like this?!” She flinched as he tied it off and shrugged. Everyone in the crew had laughed at him for being so smart and knowing all the right calculations that could get them out of jams and pull them back on course. He was the next highest educated in the crew besides the Pilot with three years of college under his belt, and even then the pilot called him a genius, because he knew math and other studies far better, but he could think of nothing to get them out of this mess. He didn’t understand any of this, because no book could ever teach him how to survive in a cruel Nazi controlled France. “Ha!” she mocked sadly, “Sometimes we hear that Germany has a Resistance of its own against their own government.”
“It’s true.” He said. “We’ve dropped supplies to them as well.”
“On German soil?!” she asked horrified.
“They are against the Nazis as much as you are and have been under far worse conditions, then you. There the military has ruled for years before the war started. They have been killing them for just as long.”
“Their own people?” she shook her head sadly in disbelief.
The traveler held up his cloth the Nazis had stabbed. “My best cloth! Ruined because of their stupidity!”
“Can’t you sew it?”
“I would! But if it were not for this large blood stain on it as well!” He fumed.
“I’m sorry I don’t deflect bayonets for your amusement, Paul!” She said angrily.
“What will we do now?” the Navigator said after he shushed her.
The old traveler sat down exhausted “I don’t know. We are not safe here or anywhere in France at the moment.” He shook his head. “If I am caught with you, I will be killed.” He stood up, “Frankly, I am tired of all of this fighting. I was tired of it 20 years ago.”
They trudged into the camp. Their freedom shut out completely as the gates closed on their backs. The Russian was shaved and led one way and the English man another, and so the Radio Operator was alone as he was led to the prison barracks where he would stay the remainder of the war or at least until the Americans came to bargain for their men that were left behind. The cot was horrible, but there was no use complaining because everybody got the same ones except when it came to the Allies of other countries. The British and American airmen were treated for the most part humanely compared to the Russians and other Slavs who were badly abused. He could see that as he was led into camp. He knew that the Russian would end up just as starved and beaten as all the other Slavs already there. The other Americans soon arrived breaking his thoughts as they found the new arrival in the camps. One passed him some paper and a pencil saying, “It’s the only thing that will keep you sane.”
He asked about the rest of the crew, but none had seen them. One remembered seeing one of the names on the MIA lists at his air base. The Operator asked about the date and found that it had been over a year since they had left for the mission over France that they had failed to get them home. The man that shared the bunk with him asked about the status of the Resistance.
“Alright, up until the last mission.”
“They’ll die out soon enough.” He said sadly.
“My friend stayed back there to help them.” The Operator said gritting his teeth and gripping the Nose Gunner’s tags tightly in his fight.
“Then he’s a dead man too.” The man answered.
“No, He’s not.” He told himself, “He’ll get out.”
The lights went out in the barracks and some of the men complained. It was twilight outside and yet his exhaustion was forcing him to sleep. He would starve until morning, but he knew that the Russian would starve all week. At about a year later the POW camp was evacuated by the end of the war and each man was sent home except the Russian and several of his comrades who were now buried in the many unmarked graves after fatal episodes of TB sent them to early graves too slowly over the harsh winter. Very few Russians made it home after the war.
The Bombardier and the few left finally made it to another Resistance group. They were weak from starvation, but were taken in and cared for. They didn’t have to run anymore. The French girl from their old Resistance was learning English and laughed at his futile attempts at French. When France was freed of German control they were together at the radio cheering. When the war ended he was still in France where they married before she returned with him to America. Somehow he was able to contact the pilot’s family in 1998. He told them what he knew that had happened to the pilot and gave them the dog tags that bare the pilot’s name. They gave them back.
The Navigator and girl left the traveler fearing for his safety. Sometime later they were captured by the Germans and taken to another of their many torment camps where they made him watch her die. The Allies discovered and closed the camp before they had killed him, but he would never be the same again.
Complete Overview:
Pilot- Dead
Copilot- Saved by the American troops that invaded Normandy
Engineer- Dead
Bombardier- Went home after the war
Waist Gunner#1- Dead
Radio Operator- POW until end of war
Nose Gunner- Stayed behind in France
Navigator- POW discovered in unstable condition
Waist Gunner#2- Dead
Tail Gunner- POW Dead
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amusedwriter rambles
Things I write for no apparent reason other than to pass the time. Most stories have no endings, but contain an awful lot of meaningless dialogs. Other entries are basically boring life occurrences that have nothing to do with my stories whatsoever.
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