Bombers Moon

"Black Thursday," as the day came to be called.Of the 291 American bombers that took off from Britain, 77 never returned, and 121 were seriously damaged, either sent to the factory for repairs, or scrapped on the spot.Bases in East Anglia scrambled to count casualties and missing persons.Some fishing boats were sent out, scouring the sea in vain for survivors who probably didn't exist.

Chuck doesn't know all this.He woke up drowsily to the sound of the wheels of the cart, and the nurse put something on his bedside, and pushed the cart away again.The circular transom let in the pale sunlight, and the exhaust fan whirred. He stared at the changing shadows intently. It took him a while to realize that someone was sitting by the bed, so he turned his head dully to look at this simple thing. Movement is too difficult for him now.Chuck blinked wearily, and the man leaned in closer, with a worried expression on his face.

Louis.Chuck tried to call his name, moved his lips, but couldn't make a sound.

"Charles, can you hear me?"

I heard it, but he was so tired, and sleepiness was like a lead weight strangling his neck, pulling him down involuntarily, and Chuck tried his best to barely float on the water.Louis took his hand, rubbing his thumb lightly against his palm.Chuck fell asleep again, struggling in the sticky swampy darkness, whipped alternately by pain and cold.He dreamed of the cockpit, the controls felt so real, he could feel the dents from peeling paint.However the plane was completely out of control and no matter what he did he couldn't stop the fall.Chuck opened the hatch for the jump, but the parachute was empty, a baggy canvas bag slung ridiculously over his back.The wind whipped against his face, and the ground drew nearer.

He woke up suddenly, breathing hard, cold sweat soaking the pillow.

"You're in the hospital, you're fine." A hand touched his face lightly, "Charles, look at me."

Drapes surround the beds, offering limited privacy, and a single lamp illuminates the small space.The sky outside the transom was pitch black.Chuck stared at Louis for a long time, finally relaxed, and let out a long breath towards the ceiling.

"Want a drink?" Louis asked.

Chuck nodded.Louie helped him sit up and tucked the pillows behind his back.Somebody changed him into a set of faded striped pajamas, the seams of the cuffs were loose, and the knees of the trousers were frayed to the point of tearing.Chuck took the cup that Louis handed over, drank it in one gulp, and finally felt that he could make a sound.

"What about the others?"

Louis pursed his lips: "Do you still want water? I'll pour another glass."

Chuck grabbed Louis' sleeve, "Tell me."

Louie sat down again, holding Chuck's hand covered with tiny scars in both hands, as if it was an exposed heart that needed protection, "Sergeant Hoffman was not breathing when he was lifted out, the plane The only ones left alive are you and your navigator."

It took Chuck a few minutes to remember who "Sergeant Hoffman" really was, Jody.Calling him by his rank gave a strange sense of detachment, as if someone else had died.Louis studied Chuck's face, frowning.The door of the large ward opened, Louis let go of his hand immediately, and held Chuck's hand again after making sure that the footsteps were not coming in this direction.

"How's Leo?"

"He's next door. It's a bit complicated."

"What do you mean by complicated?"

Louis bit his lower lip. "The doctors are not sure if he can survive tomorrow. They are considering transferring Sergeant Mayweed to London, but his condition is not stable. It is not a good idea to move him to the car."

"I want to see him."

"Lie down." Louis didn't raise his voice, but his tone was irresistible, "You also need to rest. Go tomorrow."

"I've slept long enough."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow." Louis reiterated, adopting the tone of an officer. "It's past four o'clock, and it will be dawn soon. Go to sleep."

Sleep was now a thorny sandpit that Chuck didn't want to jump into, but it was out of his control.He rolls around in different nightmares, looking for a way out.When the nurse delivering breakfast woke him up, Louis was no longer there, probably on a mission.Chuck sat on the hospital bed for a while, tore off a bit of bread, ate it, drank half a glass of orange juice, and vomited it all up in a few minutes.The nurse hurried over, cleaned the floor, and poured out a glass of water for Chuck to rinse his mouth.The doctor examined the impatient sergeant again and told him to stay in bed and not to move or get emotional.As soon as the doctor left, Chuck slipped out of bed and escaped from the ward.

The hospital did not provide him with shoes. After all, no one thought that the wounded would get up and run around.Chuck walked barefoot through the linoleum-covered corridor, shivering from the cold, and aching all over his body, especially on his left side. He rested against the wall for a while, unbuttoned a few buttons, and tentatively groped under his pajamas, on his shoulders, on his chest, and abdomen were touched by dry bandages.

The wards were full of people, and the smell of blood, feces and carrion was hidden under the strong smell of disinfectant.Chuck passed the empty doctor's office, turned back, and looked at himself in the mirror over the sink.He did look awful, with a beard covering half his face, sunken eye sockets, a big bruise stamped over his cheekbone, and skin like crumpled wax paper.Chuck touched his beard, and the wild man in the mirror touched his chin, showing a dazed look.

He struggled to move along the corridor, inspecting the wards one by one, poking his head in, apologizing, and backing away.Eventually finding the target in the penultimate room on the west side, Chuck probably wouldn't have recognized Leo were it not for the presence of his wife.The navigator looked like a dehydrated scale model, nestled in yellowed pillows and comforters.Natalie stood up, looked at Chuck suspiciously for a while before recognizing him, and whispered hello.Her eyes were bloodshot and her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in ages, and Chuck sat her back down and asked her how Leo was doing.

"He's running a fever." Natalie's upper lip was trembling. "The doctor said it's best to send him to London, but he needs to get better first, or the doctor will worry that he'll die on the way." She cleared her throat and shook her hand. Tight hands "I don't know—"

"He'll be fine, don't worry."

Natalie sighed, stretched out her hands to straighten the blanket covering Leo, and said nothing.Chuck hesitated, took a deep breath: "I'm sorry, this is my—"

"No." Natalie said gently, glancing at Leo, "He also knows it's not your fault, it's the Germans."

Chuck sniffed, nodded, and looked at his feet, his toes were red from the cold. "I'll come back when he wakes up."

"Thank you, Sergeant Sinclair. Are you sure you don't need a pair of slippers?"

Five minutes later, Chuck was wearing borrowed cloth slippers and sneakily found his way back to the hospital bed. He almost succeeded, but was caught by the nurse at the door of the dispensing room. This girl who was two heads shorter than him was stern. Chuck worried that she would pull out the rope and tie him to the bed.The sergeant went back to bed under supervision, drank a half-warm bowl of soup, and swallowed the pills.The nurse scribbled something quickly in the little notebook, gave Chuck a final look, turned and walked away.

Louie didn't come until after lights out.Chuck lay awake, listening to the noise in the large ward, snoring, talking in sleep, someone going to the toilet, someone turning over, moaning in pain, faint sobbing from a far corner, and it didn't stop until almost midnight.Chuck fell asleep in a daze for a while, and was woken up by Louis. The second lieutenant pulled the curtain around the bed and sat on the edge of the bed.The faint morning light coming in from the window barely made out his outline.

"The doctor has just sent Sergeant Mayweed to London."

The rest of the drowsiness disappeared at once, and Chuck sat up, moving so quickly that he touched the wound, and gasped in pain, "London?"

"Yes, he needs surgery, a second surgery."

"That's good news, isn't it? The doctor must think there's hope in order to—"

"Yes, Charles, sort of. If there's any progress, we'll be telegraphed from London."

Chuck sank into the fluffy pillow and exhaled.

"Brought you some little presents," Louie said, and Chuck noticed a bag by his feet, from which Louie pulled out a rolled-up coat, crumpled newspapers, soap and Razor, "It's not that I don't like your beard, but if you let it grow like this, I'm afraid there will be earthworms and mushrooms in it."

Chuck scratched his chin sullenly: "Do you think you can smuggle me out?"

Louis frowned: "Why?"

"Want to see the others, the ones who didn't survive. Look at Jody."

"Not a good idea."

Chuck didn't answer, just stared at Louie until the other party sighed helplessly and dropped the bag: "Shave your beard first. I'll go and tell the doctor that you want to go for a walk."

-

Walking later became their daily habit.Louie would come after breakfast, obviously not having slept well, or at all. After the "Black Thursday" setback, the U.S. Army Air Corps completely ceased all operations, and recovery was indefinite.The Royal Air Force undertakes all air strikes.

At first, Chuck only had the strength to circle the corridors, and then the range of activities expanded to the front hall, then to the small garden with scattered wilting plants, and then the barren wilderness outside the base.Late autumn has taken away the color of the grass and bushes, leaving only shades of yellow, gray and brown.Chuck clung to his heavy cotton-filled coat and watched the distant clouds gliding swiftly across the sky.Most of the time, Louis didn't disturb his contemplation. Even if he talked occasionally, they were all common topics. Chuck repeatedly talked about the stupid things in his youth, as well as the Air Force training base in Oklahoma, the instructor back then, the Sergeant Emerson, nicknamed "The Friar", seemed as if as long as his thoughts stayed in 1941, nothing that would happen next would happen.

There was good news from London first, followed by bad news. Leo's operation went well, but he still has no signs of recovery.Natalie went to London and there were no more telegrams for several days.In the last week of October, the doctor removed Chuck's stitches as scheduled, announcing that the wound was healing well and that he would be gone in a day.Chuck packed up his few personal belongings and returned to the dormitory early the next morning.

Miss Button is not here, probably looking for bugs that haven't been killed by Late Autumn.The room was as it had been when they set out on the morning of October 10, with Jody's shoe lying alone in the middle of the floor, half of his quilt slipped on the floor, and coffee stains on the pillow.Leo's bed was a little tidier, and his boots were neatly put under the bed and well wiped down.Chuck sat down on his bed, staring blankly at the wall, and if he waited long enough, maybe all his friends would come back.

He jumped when the knock on the door sounded, and a dark-haired girl from the radio department came in nervously and handed him a telegram, which Chuck took mechanically and opened when she was gone.There were only two lines on the paper, and he read it over and over several times, continuing to stare at the wall.

Chuck was still in this position when Louis came in. It was almost dark, and the light turned a dull gray-blue.Louis gently closed the door, took the telegram from Chuck's hand, and put it aside, Chuck realized that the paper had been gripped out of shape.

"I'm really sorry, I just heard about it."

Chuck jumped to his feet and hugged Louie, who was pushed back and staggered back to his feet.Chuck tightened his grip on him, burying his face in his neckline.Louis stroked Chuck's hair, tilted his head, and kissed his ear.Chuck's shoulders trembled, but no sound came out.

"I understand." Louis whispered, the last light outside the window quickly disappeared, and the room sank into darkness, "It's okay, Charles, I'm right here."