WW2

Chapter 8: In The Kriegsmarine

Night fell upon Southern Europe as moonlight cast an eerie glow over Italy. The Blackburn transport plane grew cold as it peaked in its altitude, high above the detectable cover of enemy radar. However, the inhabitants tried to refuse to show signs of weakness as they prepared for their jump. John and Oliver clutched their parachutes tightly, whispering a prayer. The men wore Italian uniforms yet knew little more than "hello" in Italian.

Ruth notified the team, "LZ approaching!"

Jules broke it down, "Okay, let's go over this one more time. We jump over some farm fields, using parachutes at the last second. Creep to the base. They are not expecting us." He smiled, "Easy."

"Over the LZ!"

"You know," Oliver informed, "We don't have much training in this."

"Easy rule,"Juels smirked, "don't die." He jumped.

The cabin was suffocating in silence for a split second as the two men looked at each other. With a stomach-churning lurch, the plane lurched upward, and the soldiers exchanged another set of anxious glances. Oliver jumped next, descending into the void below. John followed next, his chest tight and his legs shivering. He could barely see Oliver but could not spot Juels. Neither of which calmed the storm in his mind.

The cold attacked him in all directions as he struggled for a breath. His heart threatened to blow as seconds leaned onto minutes; he could not make out Oliver anymore; he could not see the ground. He could not hear the once thunderous engine of the plane. He'd lost the count of time.

Suddenly, he saw something move far below him. It grew larger and larger. Then a next, a circular object rushed towards the left of him. He pulled the parachute and jolted backwards as he felt the pressure on his spine and neck.

The rustling fabric of his chute was in harmony with Oliver's and Juels'. He saw the ground quickly approaching him, Italian soil, where every step could be his last.

His legs shattered as they collided with the grass. He silently ached in pain, only to see Jules get up and detach his parachute. Oliver gasped for breath as he slowly got up.

Juels silently laughed as he commented, "I did not think it would be like that."

"What?" John said as he got up, "I thought you did this before."

"I did, just on a bi-plane. Closer to the ground... in the day."

The men checked their equipment, suppressed pistols, and the knives were fortunately, but expectedly undamaged. Morphine, water, ropes and first aid kits were also fine. Oliver noticed a book on the ground and picked it up, a Dutch to Italian dictionary.
Once thanking him, Juels put the book in a more secure place and began walking.

Following Juels' lead, they quickly and silently trekked past fields and isolated houses towards a more densely populated region. Up and over fences and walls, slowly through alleyways but never on the main roads, where the late-time drinkers would roam the streets. With utmost caution through the shadowed alleyways of the Italian town, their hearts pounding in synchrony with their hushed footsteps, they would hide amongst the trees for what felt like hours, in total silence at the noise of a twig snapping. They jumped into some back gardens and crawled around houses and cars.

It seemed as if the moonlight whispered secrets to the population as two drunk men wandered away from the empty road, down an alleyway straight into them as they were prone. The knot of anxiety gripped their chests as the drunks saw them.
They tossed coin which loosely landed on Oliver's chest.
The three men gave a large sigh of relief.

Juels broke the tension and once again aided them through and out of the labyrinth of the town. They arrived at some distance from the Naval base; it was swarmed with Italians and Germans. It was a relatively new base which, whilst operational, needed to be completed; evidenced by the rows of trucks filled with concrete and steel.