Thank you, sparklers, for reading, reviewing, encouraging, following, and favorite-ing. I love you guys! Now go read Romans 8:30-31-32. Good verses!
I won`t be updating for a while, I'll be at STEP camp for a month! Pray for me! It's a Christian boot camp that challenges you to rely on God.
150 reviews! WOOHOO!
Joe
"So, kid, you're going back out?"
Joe looked into the pilot's deeply tanned face and smiled.
"Yup."
He climbed into the B-24 without a trace of apprehension. It had been a long month in England, and he was ready for some excitement. Director Hainey had reasoned that the Japanese wouldn't know Joe, and so Joe was now hitching a ride on a bomber plane headed for a joint army and air force base in the Solomon Islands for further orders.
Word had it that the Germans were weakening, and they were no longer the terrible threat they had once been. The U.S. was now focusing its attention in the Pacific, and Joe was proud to be a part of it all.
The pilot turned to him. "You know how to fly, huh?"
"Yeah, my brother and I have a little plane-"
"You want to take turns? It'll be a long ride."
"Sure!"' This was what he had missed most. The daily opportunities for adrenaline rushes. He took the controller and adjusted his goggles.
Frank
-One day ago-
It had been two weeks since Frank and Nancy had arrived at 'camp', and they had settled into a disparaging, monotonous routine. They woke early and stood in line, often shivering in the cold brought by early mornings and sea breezes, waiting for roll to be called. Then they hurriedly ate a breakfast of watery oatmeal and bread that was either nearly as heavy as a brick or raw dough. Then they treated patients until dark, when they were handed some sort of stale cracker and rice, often with fish.
The only break in the routine was that Frank had been elected the leader of the medics. Sort of like a spokesperson, he would direct the others and inform the Japanese of progress.
There was also the tunnel.
It began under a cot, a tiny mound of red, sandy soil. Frank had wondered aloud what it was.
"That's from last night's digging session. We need to get rid of it."
As he watched, the 'patient' he'd been talking to hopped up with surprising speed and , through spreading and stomping, soon disposed of the dirt. Mac now pointed at another cot, pushed against the wall.
"This wall's up against the fence , see. If we can dig under the fence and into a clump of trees, we'll be out of here in no time flat. Only hard part's the digging."
Under the cot a yawning hole gaped.
"But how are you digging?"
"Spoons, sticks, stuff like that. We work sat night in shifts. It's a pretty big risk, but..."
"It beats feeling like sitting ducks?"
"Exactly."
"I'll take a shift," Frank said, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long while. Finally, a chance to do something!
A thought came to him. He could not tell Nancy. The stakes were high in this game, and he would not risk her getting hurt. He watched her moving across the room, administering medicines, talking gaily, helping and cheering everyone, before going back to work.
And that was how he found himself wiggling headfirst into a muddy hole at midnight, a spoon grasped in his right hand. Mac had come along to hold the candle, reminded Frank in a hoarse whisper, "You volunteered!"
"I know." Frank managed, pulling himself along on his stomach. Mac crouched outside the opening, holding the stump of a candle and shielding the flame's light with one hand. If they were found; in the infirmary, not in their bunks, in a whole different building, what would they say?
The tunnel was not very long yet; Frank could barely lie flat in it, facing a wall of mud.
He began to dig with the spoon. Really, it was more like scraping away handfuls of dirt and wriggling them out to Mac, who spread and packed it into the dirtt floor of the infirmary.
By the end of the night, he had made a dent of a few inches.