Auf Wiedersehen Sweetheart

Chapter 12

Blazing light and silent dark drifted interchangeably before Ludwig's eyes. He tried to cling to the light, to blink away the black flashes of oblivion, to stop his mind slipping in and out of consciousness. The smell of smoke hung smothering in the heavy air. It was too hot, too hazy. It would be so easy to let the heavy dark pull him under, and yet a dull, insistent awareness tugged at the corners of his mind. He had to get out. Had to stay awake, had to get out. Drawing upon every reserve of strength he had left, Ludwig forced his eyes open and his mind to stay alert. He gritted his teeth and reached up, pushed open the canopy, and dragged himself out of the cockpit. Falling heavily to the ground, Ludwig stumbled away from the plane, fought for breath and to clear his head of the foggy shock. He finally turned to look behind him and immediately closed his eyes at the painful sight. Greta was burning, flames rising slowly but relentlessly from the engine to engulf the entire plane. Ludwig felt a vicious stab in his chest. But he was alive. He had made it, had landed, and he was amazingly alive, and relatively unscathed. When he turned around to see a group of American airmen striding across the field toward him, he wondered briefly how long that would be the case. Ludwig shook himself out of his daze, stood straight, and waited for the men to reach him.

The man at the front had to be their leader. He carried his headgear beside him, swaggering boldly in his uniform and bomber jacket, his bright blond hair flying messy in the wind. Ludwig knew immediately that this was the Magician. He was younger than Ludwig had expected, but his whole bearing was one of confidence, almost arrogance. He grinned cheerfully as he walked up to stand before Ludwig. Ludwig used his superior height to glare down at him.

"Afternoon." The American pilot looked up at the burning plane and whistled. "That's some fine flying, pilot. Thought for sure you were a goner." Ludwig remained silent, and the pilot turned to speak to the man at his right. "Matt, you speak German right, we need to get this guys name and rank..."

"Lieutenant Ludwig Beilschmidt. Serial number, 2413/9."

The American glanced back at Ludwig, his expression slightly surprised and a little impressed. "Uh, right. You got that, Matt?"

"Got it."

The American nodded and grinned again. "You speak English, German?" Ludwig raised an eyebrow. Was that not obvious? "All right, Lieutenant Beil... Beilsh... Ludwig. I'm gonna have to ask you to surrender your weapons."

Ludwig gave an almost imperceptible nod before he swiftly pulled the pistol from his jacket, spun it so the handle faced the American, and handed it over. He noted with some satisfaction how the other pilots almost flinched away. Ludwig knew he could appear intimidating if he wanted to. Right now, he wanted to. In the end though, he had no power here, and the American knew it. He just smiled as he took the pistol, then looked down at Ludwig's closed hand and raised an eyebrow. Ludwig followed his gaze. He hadn't even realised he was still holding it; that he had been holding it the entire time. He slowly opened his hand. The little flower was almost crushed. Glaring at the American, Ludwig very deliberately placed the flower in his pocket. They would not be taking it from him. The American looked slightly confused, but then he grinned.

"Your lucky charm, right? Looks like it worked today. This here is mine." The American gestured to a piece of white cloth sticking from his left front pocket. It looked like a handkerchief. "Seems it worked as well. You came close to getting me today, Lieutenant Be... uh... Ludwig. Took down two of my men also. Impressive." Ludwig gave a small shrug. What did the American expect? And why was he chatting away as though they were friends? The American tapped his foot and waited as though expecting Ludwig to respond at some point. He didn't. He wouldn't. Under the Geneva Convention all he was required to tell the enemy was his name, his rank, and his number. He had already done so. He had nothing else to say. "Chatty one, aren't ya," said the American finally. "All right, let's make this easy on everyone. You will come with us quietly, won't you?" As though he had a choice. Ludwig nodded.