WW2

Chapter 5: Cold

His eyes fluttered at the bright sunlight. Beams were shown through the gaps in the curtains, which gently shifted side to side along the wind. Doriph sat up, having slept through the day, waking up in the early morning of May 28th, 1940.

After a clearing from the hospital, he took a stroll down a park where children played and adults worked. Gardens propped up in anticipation of the inevitable blockade. He enjoyed the air; it felt good on his bruised neck and sore head. He could only remember a little past the water crash, only glimpses. He was heading back, back to his squadron.

He opened the door to see his comrades tired, many asleep with cups of tea going cold in the centre of the room. William relaxed his hand as he fell out of this realm and into his dreams. The newspaper gently glided to the ground.
Ruth spotted him; his face lit up.

"Doriph!" "Ruth!" The other pilots quickly awoke to the noise, initially annoyed but soon happy.

"Son of a bitch," Ruth said, "You well rested?"

They hugged briefly before Doriph responded, "The light coma felt nice."

They couldn't celebrate for too long however, as Peraze ordered them to hop on their planes, they were to go on another flight. After checking with Doriph, he rushed off to lead his men. Doriph followed closely behind.

The pilots moved with excitement, the adrenaline of the mission ahead pumping through their veins. However, alongside the excitement was an unsettling feeling of worry that sat heavy in their stomachs, churned from the previous day, losses that could not be replenished, lives that could not be lived again. Their ranks had yet to be replaced with new pilots, low on numbers and fatigued from near-constant flights, nerves ran wild through every man. Doriph's hand shivered slightly as he kissed his two fingers, placing them gently on his wife's photo that was newly placed on his new precious plane

Then he noticed it, a small pouch on his flight deck. He opened it to see coins, 20 Farthings to be exact.

Just then, as if Ruth could see in his cockpit, he asked, "You see them?"

"Yeah, why is there money on my plane?"

"Man's word is a man's word. You got more kills than me. I owed everyone a pint."

Doriph laughed, "And you had no pennies whatsoever? Not one?"

Miaim responded, "My idea."

"Of course, I performed the two most skilled kills, and I get rewarded in embarrassment."

Ruth informed, "You did miss a couple flights since your nap. It's on-"

"How many flights did you go on?"

Peraze answered that one, "Four. Most recent one was just over an hour before you arrived."

The squadron soared higher and higher into the sky, the tension in the cockpit was palpable despite the altitude. Doriph remembered the 16 planes took off yesterday, and now, 8 remain.

"Now that Doriph awoke from his nap, we can get into even teams," Peraze devised, "Try and avoid fighters, the bombers are our targets."

"What if we encounter them?" Doriph asked.

"Then we fight them, but lets not try and do that. Now, when we get closer to the beach, there will be bombers and fighters; Doriph, Miaim, Ruth, and Joseph, aim for the bombers, this should be routine, remember your training."

Doriph stretched his neck as best as he could, he readjusted himself in his seat, slightly annoyed that he did not have the time to mark his flight name on his helmet; more annoyed at his plane.