Bombers Moon

It was already ten o'clock at night when the army truck came jolting away.The raging fire has been extinguished, leaving the blackened and twisted skeleton of the bomber, and the leaked aviation fuel has burned a large area of ​​grass and blackened the edge of the forest.The air is full of the smell of burnt rubber, scattered bushes are still smoldering, clusters of flickering fires are conspicuous in the darkness, and the smoke drifts slowly towards the low hills in the distance.

There were six people in the car, four Wehrmacht troops, and two Americans in handcuffs.The truck stopped about ten meters away from the wreckage of the plane. Except for the driver, all the German soldiers with guns got out of the truck. One was guarding the prisoners, and the other two walked towards the shapeless B-17 bomber. , walked around this twisted group of scrap iron, poked around, and finally decided that there was nothing worth taking apart to study.One soldier stomped out a burning flame in the grass with his boot, and another wrote a few words in a small notebook by the light of a car's headlights.The two continued to stare at the bomber for a while, as if they were a little bit sorry, just like a bear hunter who finds out that the bear has died of illness.

The driver rolled down the window, shouted something to the two soldiers, and pointed to the woods.A parachute hangs from a bare tree, as if growing some bizarre fungus.Had it not been for the moonlight, it might not have been discovered at all.The two soldiers ran there, the flashlights flickering in the woods, farther and farther away, until they were all swallowed up by the shadows of bushes and vines.About half an hour later, the two soldiers reappeared without finding anything.back to the car.

When the engine was started, the headlights flickered, then returned to normal, turned half a circle, and illuminated a small road extending to the northeast. The car shakes.

Chuck watched all this from a distance on the hillside, held his breath, and lay down on a thick layer of frosty dead branches and leaves. He didn't get up until he was sure that the noise of the car had disappeared, leaned against the tree trunk, and breathed a sigh of relief.He touched the belt, the knife was well in place.When he first landed, he was entangled in the parachute rope, hanging on the tree like a chrysalis, and it took a long time to cut desperately before breaking free. When the army truck appeared on the road, he had already climbed up the mountain under the cover of the woods mound.It was similar to the game of hide-and-seek he had played in fifth grade, except the loser went to a POW camp.If you don't want to get caught, you have to keep trying to figure out what the pursuer is thinking, keep moving, and let them miss the air.

Staying out in the wild was not an option, he had no water, no food, no decent weapon, not even a match, and a sprained ankle.There are flashing lights about five or six kilometers away, a small village, but he doesn't speak a word of German, and he's wearing an American uniform, almost inviting the Gestapo to arrest him.

The little road that stretched east and west appeared again with the blips of headlights.Chuck dropped to the ground quickly, letting the bushes cover him.Through the gaps in the branches he could see two army trucks heading towards the burnt bomber, and a dozen soldiers got out, all armed with guns and flashlights, in two teams, one going into the woods and the other along the grass. Searching, slowly approaching the hill.Chuck took a deep breath, exhaled softly, and crawled under the bushes on all fours, squeezing between the gnarled branches and aerial roots, diving into the depths of the shadows until, with luck, the panting German found it , you will find nothing but stones, fallen leaves and thorny bushes.

-

Night-birds uttered their short shrill chirps.

The panic-stricken dream loosened its fangs, and Louis wrenched free, waking up drowsily, with his fingers on the verge of losing feeling from sleeping on the desk with his arms under his head.The second lieutenant carefully sat up straight, moved his neck and shoulders tentatively, and gasped in pain.A crumpled, concise map lay open on the table, next to a notebook and a pile of crumpled paper.He tried last night to deduce Chuck's skydiving location from the testimonies of the pilots, but he didn't have much clue.Louis glanced at the empty bed, then at the faint morning light outside the window, sighed, stood up, changed into a clean shirt, put on his uniform jacket, and went out.

He went to the radio room first.The Anglo-American Joint Command sent a message, in a few words, saying that it had received the list of missing and casualties, over.Maybe there will be more telegrams today. Generally speaking, after the Germans capture prisoners of war—especially pilots—they will send a list to London to negotiate a prisoner exchange, because both sides want their pilots back.Had Chuck been arrested, he might have been on the list.Louie even secretly prays that Chuck will show up on it, which is much better than knowing nothing.

"If there is any news from London, call me immediately," he told the operator.

"Okay, sir."

The low noise of the engine came from outside, like the whimper of a wounded monster. Today’s bombing mission started as usual. Excluding the four missing planes and one plane sent for repair, the remaining fifteen B-17s have assembled over the base. , ready to fly to Berlin again.Louis stood in the corridor for a while, watching the escorting Mustang fighter jets take off.He felt that Chuck was alive, but he had learned early on that this feeling was unreliable, and he "felt" his brother was alive for a week after William's death.This is the trick the brain is best at, turning its back on the facts and clinging to the illusion of wishful thinking.

The plane went away, and the base returned to the quietness of an operating room.Louie walks to Chuck's dorm, meeting no one.When the door was opened, the duck ran out, a mass of dancing feathers, and Louis was startled.The bird stopped to preen its wings and wobbled out along the corridor.

The room resembled a shipwrecked cabin, with cardboard boxes dominating the corners, and it read "Jordy" in Chuck's crooked handwriting.The half-full suitcase lay on the floor, with clothes and sundries piled in a haphazard pile, before the two new sergeants had time to fully unpack it.Louie sat down on Chuck's bed and hugged his pillow.There was a broken watch on the bedside table, the hands stopped at [-]:[-], I don't know if it was morning or afternoon.The framed photo with the newspaper clipping should have been there too, but is nowhere to be found.Louis looked around on the ground, but couldn't find it.He pushed the cabinet away a bit and glanced at the gap between the bedside table and the wall, but there was nothing there.The drawer was not locked, and it was shaken open by his movement. Louis hesitated for a few seconds, and opened the drawer.

The frame was there, face down, like Chuck didn't want to see that clipping again.Louis picked it up and stared at the three ink-printed faces.Now they are all dead, a dull number on the report.

He stood up, put the frame in his pocket, and left the dormitory, deliberately leaving the door ajar so that the ducks would not be locked out when they returned from foraging.

-

When he saw the creek, Chuck finally couldn't walk, knelt in the frozen mud, bent over to drink water, and then washed the mud on his face and hands.The dry reeds were sparse and could not provide any shelter. It was more dangerous during the day than at night. This place was not as remote as he imagined, and there was a farm not far away.The village he saw last night was actually a small town, and farmers often pulled carts of potatoes or cabbages there.Maybe he could knock one out and grab some potatoes, but before that he'd have to eat something, his stomach writhing with hunger as if filled with broken glass.

After drinking enough water, Chuck hid back in the woods, picked up a branch, swept away the fallen leaves, and wrote and drew on the mud, trying to figure out where he was.It should be not far from Berlin, dozens of kilometers. Probably, the bomber was hit by anti-aircraft artillery somewhere in the northwest of Berlin. In addition, they glided for a while, maybe it was Hafellburg.Chuck tried to remember what exactly lay between Berlin and Hamburg, but couldn't remember anything but a blank space dotted with forests.

The sun penetrates the clouds and sprinkles small golden light spots from the gaps in the canopy. Through the position of the sun and the moss on the trunk, it is easy to judge the direction.Taking the place where Chuck is standing now as a reference point, the town is in the southwest, and the due west is the northern border of Germany and the Netherlands. Chuck roughly estimated the distance. It took only three days to get there, counting the outposts and national defense forces that may be encountered in the middle, it may take a century to get there.

He doesn't necessarily have any other choice, so he can only try.Before that, he needs food.

Chuck followed a trail made by animals to the edge of the farm, where the dense woods stopped abruptly, and the trees that were close to the fence of the pasture were neatly felled and the shrubs cleared.Farmers back home in Oklahoma do the same, depriving wolves and foxes of the hiding places they need to drag off lambs wandering to the edge of their pens.Chuck lay on his stomach in the grass, looking at the farm.There were two dogs on a leash in front of the barn, his worst enemies, and Chuck had to find a way around them.

He waited in the woods until evening, fell asleep several times, and woke up to watch the movement on the farm.When it was getting dark, the lights were turned on in the small brick house, and a girl came out with something. The two dogs tied in front of the barn got excited and jumped up and down. The girl threw the things in her hand to them, The dogs ate and pushed each other.The girl looked at them for a while, then went back into the house and closed the door.

Chuck continued to wait until the lights in the house went out before creeping closer to the farm.In order not to let the dogs find out, he made a long detour and climbed over the fence from behind the stables. This is the downwind place, and with the smell of the horses, the dogs should not be able to detect it.He stooped and ran to the back of the barn, looking for the entrance. The door was locked, but there was a crude window beside it, covered with a thin layer of cloth, through which he crawled in and fell into the thick haystack.The sound disturbed the henhouse, and the fat birds moved uneasily and clucked timidly. Chuck strode over, took out four or five eggs, cracked them open, and poured the egg liquid into his mouth.

The burning hunger subsided temporarily, and Chuck touched a few more eggs and stuffed them into his pocket.A sack was placed next to the chicken coop. Chuck untied the mouth of the sack, and inside was dry corn kernels, as hard as stones. He also grabbed a handful, filled the sack, and continued to circle the barn, looking for other things to take away. food.The real prize was the cured ham and sausages hanging from the beams, high up to keep out animals and thieves like Chuck, who hauled in two potato crates and stood wobbly Above, he pulled out the knife, cut a small piece of ham and stuffed it into his mouth, while chewing, he cut off two sausages that were as long as the palm of his hand.

The barn door creaked open, and a flickering light came in. The girl had just entered, holding a zinc bucket in one hand and a lantern in the other, and a stubby candle was burning inside.It was Chuck who saw her first, but it was too late to hide, and for a few terrifying, tense seconds, the pilot and the girl looked at each other, each startled by the other.

The bucket fell to the ground with a thud, and the girl screamed.