Under His Wings

1

I waded through the marsh, holding my rifle above my head. I heard voices up ahead and silently prayed that they were those of my squadron. I had been lost for a day or so and I really needed to find them. Once I finally reached the source of the voices, I didn't find the rest of my squadron. Instead, I found people who seemed to be commanders of some sort. I was relieved. I figured they could reconnect me with my troop and I'd be on my merry way. That relief was short-lived. One of the men turned around and before I could blink, the butt of his rifle struck my nose and I was on the ground in a daze. My ears were ringing and my eyes were out of focus. My nose was gushing blood. I don't think I screamed, mostly because he knocked the wind out of me and I couldn't breathe. They were shouting out some words that I couldn't understand, almost like they were calling someone over. A short but stout man came over, rifle in hand. He crouched down in front of me and waved his hand in front of my eyes. He said something to another guy, slinging his rifle over his shoulder. Once my eyes came into focus and my breathing steadied, I saw a man staring at me with cold, blue eyes. I shuddered, and it was obviously noticeable because he chuckled softly at the sight of it. My eyes glanced down to his breast pocket, for a shiny lapel pin had caught my attention. What I saw made my blood run cold. It was a silver and black cross. Not only had I been cornered by a group of soldiers; I had been cornered by Reichsmen. After a few seconds, I finally got the balls to speak. Now was the time to showcase the little German I knew.

"Bitte, töte mich nicht! Ich will nichts böses!" I stammered in broken German. Please don't kill me. I mean no harm.

The man crouched down in front of me raised his eyebrows. A sly smile crept onto his face before breaking out into laughter, causing the others to howl as well.

"Gut gut. Es spricht!" He cried. Well, well. It speaks. "Und es kennt auch unsere Sprache!" And it knows our language, too.

I felt like throwing up right on his precious, porcelain, Germanic face, but I decided to keep it down. I looked around to see if there was anything I could use to get myself out of this situation since my rifle was out of the picture. Before I could really think of anything, he seized me by my lower jaw and tilted my face towards his.

"Just who do you think you are?" he asked lowly in heavily accented English.

I figured I should just tell him who I am and save myself from some of the torture later.

"My name is Edward Morris of the twenty-third battalion. If your thick skulls couldn't tell already, I'm an American." I spat in his face, baring my teeth slightly.

That confidence I had was ripped away from me when he struck me across the face, causing my nose to start bleeding again.

"I don't appreciate the insults, einzeller," he growled. Unicellular.

He looked me up and down and his face softened.

"You don't look old enough to be out here. Just how old are you?"

"I'm fourteen." I sighed. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

He sighed softly and waved off the rest of the men, to which they retreated disappointingly.

"Du lieber Himmel..." he muttered under his breath. Good heavens.

He then pulled out a handkerchief from his Reich-donned breast pocket and began to dab at my nose. I recoiled slightly, as did he. But he quickly resumed. The cloth was soft and warm. Once he got most of the blood off, I made a confused face.

"Why...?" I asked.

Suddenly those cold blue eyes I saw a few minutes ago weren't as cold anymore. They looked remorseful, almost sorrowful. He never responded. Instead he stood up and offered me his hand. I hesitated before slowly taking his hand and standing up. Apparently the rest of my body was not ready to stand up. I stumbled dizzily and would've fallen if not for him catching me by the arm. He practically carried all of my body weight as he led me back to their small base. I really hoped it was just that group there. As we walked through the forest and into an empty field, I saw loads of brightly colored planes.

"S-So," I stammered. "You guys are pilots?"

He smiled softly.

"I guess you could say that."