I was lost in thought, scrawling a letter to home. The other guys were lazing around, some playing cards, some following suit and communicating. Abruptly, the PA crackles through my thoughts, "Scramble!" Adrenaline surges over my distaste for interruption. Go! The room erupts into organized chaos. Rush! Clamber into my flight suit. Hurry! Gather my gear. Listen to the rest of the announcement. Luftwaffe bomber squadron. Heading towards London. Poor weather. Hurry! No time for nervousness!
A foe to face; a threat to thwart. Find them before they find us. Keep moving! Feet pounding, we rush outside. Poor weather indeed! Downright crazy. Doesn't say much for enemy intelligence. Run! It's black. Gusts of wind whip the chilling drizzle into my face. Shiver. My heart is chanting, Hur-ry, hur-ry, hur-ry! Jump a puddle. Watch a fellow pilot slip-splosh through the next. Keep running! Panting, I reach my trusty Hurricane. The ground crew is working like clockwork. Going double time. Don't slip on the ladder! Keep moving! Before sliding my canopy shut, the eerie wail of the air raid sirens begins. It duets with the singing wind. No time to waste! My aircraft's engine drowns the symphony while I methodically plough through my checklist. Hurry! Not too fast! Focus! Ignore the clammy cold. Dry the splattered goggles.
Through the gloom, we taxi to the runway. Go! Find the enemy! And I'm off. No! Stay on the runway! I fight the invisible, gusting wind. Away! My aeroplane dips and slips through the tumbling air. Spinning, rushing rain disorientates me. Fly blind! Maintain airspeed! A drop, a twist, and I break through the low clouds, trading my sightless world for something other-worldly. The moon glares on the twisting, angry carpet of clouds. I bounce as it glints off the dark enemy formations. To work! The scramble is over - successful. Less urgency, but I remain, as ever, intensely alert.
"Bomben weg! Dies ist nicht das, was man dachte, es sei!" My head jerks; so fast my neck pops. The blast of guttural radio communication dies away. Scrape my frenzied heart off the canopy and stuff it back where it belongs. Sometimes the radio frequencies do that.
Perhaps I shall get down in one piece. Or even two pieces. Then the adrenaline will be past. Then I can escape from this eerily insane game of chess. And I can finish my interrupted letter.
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A flight of fantasy. Start with a stormy evening. Drive places in a hurry. Throw in some World War II "memories." An over-active, inquisitive imagination weaves all manner of exciting worlds.
Beautifully written (:
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