This is the first in series on how the Heroes came to Stalag 13. The Germans in this story will be speaking German among each other, I´ll include translations at the end of the chapters, as well as the episodes I used.
I was not sure about the RAF equivalent of a Colonel, but I think it´s a Group Captain. If it´s not, I hope someone wil tell me the right name.
Thanks to everybody for the reviews on my stories so far and have fun reading this one.
Corporal Peter Newkirk made his way towards his plane. He liked to think of the plane as "his", but actually it wasn´t. He was just the tail gunner, but somehow he felt attracted to the plane. It was almost as if it was a horse, greeting him, whenever he came along.
Newkirk sighed. He sensed, that this mission would not go as planned. The new Group Captain, who was now in command of this bomber group had seemed quite an idiot during their first encounter and this impression had lasted throughout the past weeks and the briefing yesterday evening.
And that idiot is going to fly this plane today. He will be holding my life and that of the others in this plane in his very hands.
Never a religious man, he now wished that he had someone to pray to, pray that He would take this absolute moron out of his hair.
Newkirk rolled his eyes as a man, dressed in a RAF officer uniform came walking towards the plane.
There he is. Let´s see, what he´s got, when he´s up in the air. He sort of gives you the impression, that he would have trouble tying his own shoelaces.
Aloud he said. "Sir?".
The Group Captain smiled a smug smile, before answering.
"Aha, Corporal, Newkirk, was it? Finally released from the solitary?".
Newkirk grumbled.
He gave me a week in the solitary for "insubordination", just because I questioned the order to plant flowers all over the runway. He said it´d look pretty for the boys that came home.
"Yes, sir".
The Group Captain seemed not to notice, or ignore the sneering tone in the Corporals voice.
"Corporal, our orders have been changed, because I have talked the brass out of this stupid night time bombing raid, we were supposed to do tonight. We are leaving in one hour for Germany. We´ll be out in broad daylight, isn´t it exciting? Finally, we will be able to really see the flowers all over the runway, when we come back. I always thought daytime bombing to be the better option. Can you imagine? When we come back, all those flowers will turn their heads towards us, as if they were greeting us.".
He smiled, obviously content with himself.
Newkirks eyes widened in surprise.
"But sir, are you insane! Daylight bombing! You know the RAF tried this before and it was a complete failure. Why!".
The Group Captain waved a warning finger under Newkirks nose.
"Corporal. One more word and I´d have you in the solitary faster than you can say Sir!".
"Here you´ve got your word. It would be a pleasure to not be in that plane when we are going out!".
Newkirks temper was rising, but the Group Captain watched him without a word.
"Corporal, I´ll have you sent to the solitary for a month, after we return. Be here in exactly one hour, or I´ll have you court martialed.".
Newkirk marched away angrily.
I am not going with him, I am definitely not going out in daylight with this man at the controls of the plane.
A voice echoed through his head. "I´ll have you court martialed"
Who cares? I´d rather be spending the rest of my life rotting away in some kind of prison than to rot away permanently somewhere in Germany.
One hour later
I can´t believe I´m really doing this. I can´t believe that I´m really here.
Newkirk stared furiously out of the window. He could feel that they were now driving down the runway, their speed increasing all the time. Then came the point, where the plane should have lifted up, but they continued driving and driving.
Newkirk heard the copilot shout. "Pull up, now!", the man certainly sounded a bit upset.
Finally, he felt the plane lifting up, but almost within a second, the plane bumped down onto the runway again. They bumped three times after this, before the plane finally took of.
Oh gosh, he
can´t even fly.
Three hours later
Newkirk could hear Flak beginning to erupt around the plane as they came closer to their target, a munitions factory near Frankfurt. He peered out of the window, but could detect no Messerschmitts.
Suddenly, the plane shook violentely.
Oh, oh, we´ve been hit.
But before he could start looking around to detect any holes or other damage done to the plane, he heard the Group Captain shout.
"No worries, gentlemen. I´m just a bit nervous, I guess, it makes me feel a bit shaky and when I feel shaky, my hands start to shake.".
Newkirk was close to walking towards the cockpit and slapping the pilot in the face, but he remained where he was, because out of the blue, a Messerschmitt had appeared.
He grabbed the gun and fired. Soon, he saw little flames coming from the enemy plane. A second later, it exploded and fell in hundreds of pieces towards the earth.
The Flak increased. It seemed like the sky was on fire and the clouds a massive mass of flames.
Flak exploded all around them and the next moment, the plane shook and he heard a yell from the cockpit.
"Fire, the plane is on fire! Bail out!".
As in a dream, Newkirk grabbed his parachute and dived for the door. The next moment,the ice cold wind was blowing into his face and he fell and fell. Flak exploded all around him.
I´m never going to make it.
He heard men shouting, crying out in pain, as the plane, now a massive fireball turned into a death trap for those that had not escaped. He followed the plane with his eyes, as it hurled towards the ground.
How many of us are trapped in there? I was one of the first, if not the first out. Who else made it?
As he was floating in the air, the Flak exploding around him, watching the plane with at least two or three men crashing into the woods, he remembered the words the Group Captain had spoken before they left.
"I will bring you all back safely, or my name is not Rodney Crittendon anymore!".
And there, in the face of death he burst into laughter, a bitter, hollow laughter that cursed the world and the people living on it.
I´ll never trust one of those bloody officers again.
Idea from Episode 63- The Crittendon Plan