OC chapter. Feel free to skip!
Navigator
England.
He didn't think he would ever see it again.
As he stepped off the boat and onto friendly soil, Lieutenant Ammon Hatch sucked in a deep breath of soggy air. He had never smelled anything quite so beautiful.
The trip through the Comet Line had been harrowing. Not as harrowing as being shot down– that memory would plague him for a while to come– but enough that he wasn't sure he would make it all the way through. His guide had told him stories about other flyers who had gone through the line, only to be caught by the most inane slip-ups.
Luckily for him, he was completely fluent in Dutch. It had helped him pass himself off as a regular European. And being a short, unassuming sort of a man, he was used to people paying him little attention. That had helped him as well. Still, it was not an experience he wanted to repeat.
He only hoped that the Comet Line had picked up his other crew members as well. Were they all right? Would they make it back to England as well? Hatch hadn't stopped praying for them since the moment it became clear the Little Deer wouldn't be returning from its bombing run.
His guide must have informed someone that he was on his way, because a jeep pulled up to the ridge at the edge of the beach. An officer jumped out and waved him over. Hatch turned to thank the crew of the small boat that had carried him home, but they had already pulled away from the shore, heading back out to sea. Hatch waved to them and shouted his thanks before heading towards the jeep.
"Welcome back, Lieutenant," the officer greeted. He extended his hand and Hatch shook it.
"Good to be back, sir."
Hatch climbed into the jeep and it wasn't long until he was on a train, heading for Kettering. Once there, he was transported to base where he was mobbed by a hundred guys, glad to see him back safe and sound. A lengthy debriefing followed. And then a celebration. Hatch had a feeling he'd never have to buy his own club soda or ginger ale again!
By the time Hatch made it back to his bunk, he was exhausted.
But before he could go to sleep, he was determined to catch up on his letters. His family was probably worried sick. No doubt his wife had received word that he had been shot down. She probably thought he was still MIA or, worse, dead.
So Hatch quickly took out a pad of paper and wrote a few quick notes to send off right away. He'd write something longer later when his head cleared.
With that done, he sorted through his stack of mail. Usually he started with Sarah's letters. He could read at least one before his head hit the pillow.
But something strange caught his attention. Eight letters from eight different people, all postmarked for the same day. Strange. What was that all about? Some sort of activity for the youth at his church? No. The letters were from different family members, none of whom lived together.
Curious, Hatch grabbed the one from his Mom and Dad and tore it open. He began reading.
The letter fell to the ground.
Hatch jumped up from his bunk, suddenly wide awake.
He grabbed the letter again and read it. Then he tore open another letter and read that. It bore the same news. So did the other six.
Sarah. Dead. Shot by a poacher who had mistaken her for a deer.
What? Why? How?
WHAT?!
WHY?!
HOW?!
He was the one at war. He was the one flying into enemy fire. He was the one who had been shot down. He was the one who was supposed to die first. She was young and beautiful and full of life and made everyone around her smile by her mere presence. A more generous woman could never be found. Sweet, loving, kind. She was an angel in human form. Surely God wouldn't save him and let her die.
Nothing made sense.
He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe!
Hatch fell onto his cot, reeling from shock. He felt his faith, always strong as a rock, start to crack.
Oh God, why?!
What was he going to do?! How could he do anything without her?!
Hatch was a navigator. He was supposed to know where he was going. But at this moment he was completely, and hopelessly lost.