This is War✔

Twenty-Four

Tom stood under the moonlit skies of the Irish coast. He was in a dream-like state. This was it. They were leaving. They were going to put their lives in grave danger. Would they see their loved ones again?

   Ellie's beautiful face filled his thoughts and made him regret everything. How could he have ever left her? The pilots were preparing to get into their planes. A great procession of all of the inhabitants of Milton had formed on the airstrip, their faces grave and forlorn.

   Declan kissed his fiancé deeply and Toulouse shook the hands of his fellow pilots. Andrew walked up to his father and hugged him.

   "Well, this is it, isn't it?"

   "I suppose so, son. Listen. If I don't return, tell your mother that I love her, and tell the baby that...I wished to know him."

   "I will, Dad. Godspeed." They shook hands for what might be the last time and Tom and Declan and Henri all entered their planes. They waved farewell to their comrades and flew off to battle. Off to war. Off to almost certain death.

   Radio silence prevailed for quite a while as each man got lost in his respective thoughts. As they neared the target, Tom realized that he had forgotten to put on his leather gloves: oh well.

   They did as they had been instructed. They bombed the living hell out of that German factory. For a moment they thought they had been successful. Soon enough, they realized they had been, but only in a way.

   It was terrifyingly surreal. As the German fighter planes encircled the small group of Allied planes, the three men stared death in the face. Left and right they dodged trying to get out of the line of fire.

   Toulouse was able to shoot down two of the planes singlehandedly, but then a blast was heard by his fellows.

   "Toulouse! Toulouse! Are you there?!"

   "Brooks, you were the best GC a man could ask for. Keep on fighting and being as woefully incompetent as ever. Goodbye."

   "I will, I promise." Tom sighed deeply. He knew for certain in that moment that they had just lost the greatest Frenchman ever to have lived.

   Tom and Declan killed many more enemy pilots but it was no use: they kept sending more. Declan was being chased by a particularly adept German when he radioed to Tom: "Tell everyone I said goodbye."

   "No! I will shoot him down, and you will see Daisy again!"

   "No, Tom. You won't." Declan's voice was wrought with emotion. "You did your best, we all did."

   "I can't let you, I can't."

   "You're not. Leave me and go. Now! Tell Daisy...that I love her. Tell her I'm sorry. I didn't want to miss out on life with her." His voice cracked and he sobbed. "Tom, I wanted to have children with her and see them grow up and live life. I really wanted it. Thank you, Tom. For everything."

   And the radio cut out. Tom's chest tightened and he heard it: Declan's plane spiraling toward the ground. His niece's fiancé sacrificed himself for his country. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized the tragedy and enormity of it all. Of one one life, lived and lost.

   He took his chance and began to fly away from the battle, away from the confusion and mess. He almost made it away unscathed, but a German fighter followed him all the way to Milton. He couldn't shake his enemy off.

   A battle ensued above the airstrip. Tom chased the FW-190 around and around in circles. Then the opposing pilot chased him. This endless game of cat and mouse began to tire Tom and he had the idea that he would shoot the plane down now. He was really going to do it, even if it killed him.

   But he lost control of the situation because his exhausted mind and body weren't quick enough for the younger pilot. The German hit his plane twice and left for his homeland.

   Tom fumbled with his parachute and tried to get himself out of the plane. While he was doing this, the plane was overheating and tearing apart. Tom did a barrel roll as a way to try to jump out of the plane with little to no damage to himself.

   He did it and jumped, but as he did, his hand got caught between two pieces of searing hot metal. It was only for a few seconds, but the time was sufficient enough to thoroughly burn the Group Captain's left hand to waxiness.

    Tom's parachute opened and he landed on the airstrip. He was breathing heavily. He vaguely took a moment to appreciate the fact that he was alive. He dizzily saw his son standing over him, worry etched on his face. Then he passed out, the searing pain in his burned hand intolerable.