Grady.nich
03-03-2010, 06:15 AM
This was a short story I wrote for an eight grade writing contest, based loosely around WWII. The idea and writing was completely my own, but this piece was rejected because of "suspected plagiarism". But I suppose I'll just take that as a compliment :)
please read and evaluate this short historical fiction story, and all comments/suggestions are appreciated. Thanks!
-Verbundëte-
It is cold outside tonight. That’s always the worst. The chill seeps into my bones, and makes me feel as if every breath whispered from my frosted lips is stealing my last vestiges of warmth, of strength. The sky is overcast, and an eerie glow shines from the clouds that wreath the moon’s starlit face.
Tremors rack my body as a bitter wind washes over my face. I am crouched in a shallow basin at the foot of a rock face, but the one sided shelter offers no protection from the biting chill. With my back pressed flush against the rocky wall, and the wind whistling all around me, thoughts flood my mind…
The flight was routine reconnaissance. Fly into Berlin, make a report, and get out. At least, that was what it was supposed to be. I had taken off at Kings Cliffe Air Force base in England that morning, intending to reach Berlin in just over two and a half hours. After I reached the destination, my mission was to make a few flyovers and provide information on German troop movement. I was cleared to fly my Mustang P-51 at just over 5,000 feet. With low cloud cover and and rough air up high, this looked to be my safest bet.
Flying that low is always a gamble, but the chances of being spotted were nearly impossible, especially with this amount of cloud cover.
*Then, with barely a warning, the sky ahead cleared. I was a sitting duck. With clear skies, my plane was an easy target for anyone below.
I turned the plane slightly, and then I saw it. Enemy troops. I could see at least three Panzer Tanks, and there were probably more in the forest. There was no chance they hadn’t seen me. I jammed the throttle, pulled back on the stick, and sent the P-51 hurtling through the brilliant*sapphire sky.
Seconds later my heart sank as a tracer round whizzed by. I willed the plane to go faster. 6,000, 7,000, I watched as the altimeter slowly climbed. Vibrations shook the plane from nose to tail as turbulence buffeted the wings. The plane jerked and veered steeply. I glanced back. Crimson tongues of flame consumed the entire left wing. The AA gun had ripped it to shreds, and I was still well within the turret's range.
I was careening through the blazing winter sky at nearly five hundred miles per hour. More bullets flew towards me. I tried wrenching the plane into a steep roll. In response the sound of shearing metal jarred my hearing. The entire left wing was gone. The plane was a missile, with only one direction. Down.
I was tumbling, out of control. The earth and sky whirled around me in a blur of melded color. I had to get out of that plane. If I stayed any longer I would die. I pulled the canopy back, slid my harness off, launched myself out of the plane, and soared through the blinding winter sky.
One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand. My trembling hand wrapped around the handle linked to the parachute on my back. Pull. The straps wrenched my shoulders up and back as the chute filled with air. My descent slowed dramatically, but the ground was still coming fast. I searched frantically for somewhere open to land, but there was nothing. Closer and closer, the treetops sped towards me.
I had nowhere to go. I was about to go straight into the forest. I shielded my face with my arms and braced for impact.
Leaves and branches tore at my body as I was tossed from tree to tree. After what seemed like a lifetime, I hit the ground. I felt searing pain radiating from my entire body. I shifted myself and the pain was nearly unbearable. I was laying on a bed of snow and needles, staring at the swirling clouds, and the corners of my vision began slowly constricting and my sight dimmed into blackness...
My unconsciousness was broken by the sound of harsh German spoken nearby. Footsteps crunched in the hard packed snow. Suddenly I was seized off the ground and thrown roughly against a tree. A man was shouting something unintelligible in German. Someone had pinned me against the tree. I could feel my pistol being yanked out of its holster. Men were everywhere, clothed in white fatigues with a red swastika plastered across their chests. They were all circled around me, watching, their eyes boring into me. I considered running, but the rifles slung over the shoulder of each and every soldier had an invisible hold on me.
They pushed and prodded me through the woods for over an hour. Finally, we reached their camp. A young officer took hold of me and lead me into a small tent in the middle of the encampment. “Are you thirsty?” his gruff German accent took me by surprise.
“No.” I replied. In truth, I was very dehydrated, but I wasn't going to give in. The man muttered something and walked out. He stood guard outside of the tent with his rifle drawn and ready.
My chest burned every time I took a breath. I must have had at least a few fractured ribs. I ripped a strip of cloth off my shirt and bound it tightly around my chest. That helped, but they still ached.
Inside the tent, there was nothing except for bare floor. I laid down, and attempted sleep. It never came, so I just closed my eyes and listened to the sounds encircling the tent. Nothing made sense, but the noise was strangely comforting.
Even though I never said anything, an hour or two later the officer came into the tent with a canteen filled with water. He handed it to me and left wordlessly. I quaffed from it deeply, and set it aside. This same treatment went on for days. I stayed in the tent, and he supplied me with food and water.
On the fifth day, gunshots rang out early in the morning. The officer told me to stay and then he took off running, gun held high. Everyone had left. I was alone. I seized the opportunity, and sprinted out into the clearing. When I saw that I truly was alone, I decided to explore.
The first thing I noticed was the command tent. It was larger than all the rest, and was situated in the center of the camp. It was only a hundred yards away, and I was there in under a minute. Inside there was a cot, and a few tables with maps pinned on top. I scanned around, and saw something that took me by surprise. One of the maps that was lying around showed plans for a German offensive movement against the Allies. If this surprise attack was put into play, the Allies would certainly lose the war.
I grabbed the plans, rolled them up, and walked out of the compound. Suddenly, I heard a shout. A German soldier spotted me! I took off running, and I had no idea of where to go. I just ran. My lungs throbbed, and my heart pounded in my chest. I was drenched in sweat. The sounds of someone stumbling through the trees and snow echoed from behind me. I ran faster. As I sprinted, the sounds of pursuit faded off into the distance. But I still ran.
I traveled through the Ardennes all day, until right before dusk when I found a rocky outcropping where I could spend the night. I nestled into a stone basin, and drifted into a restless sleep. I didn't sleep for long. It was too cold. The wind washed into the alcove, and robbed me of precious heat...
The noise of pebbles sliding down the scree above me snaps me out of my stupor. My breathing quickens, and my heart starts to race. Footsteps click on gravel as someone steps down the slope. Closer and closer they come, and I'm in plain sight. I have only one option. A torchlight sweeps over my head as I slowly count down from three. Three, two, one.
I explode from my shelter and start to run. The pop of handguns resound around me. Bullets speed by, but I still run. The plans are stuffed into my pocket, and they methodically bang into my thigh as I bound through the trees. A river gurgles ahead. Suddenly I feel a bullet rip through my chest. The pain is absent, with just a numbness in it's place. The force of the impact causes me to slip, and fall flat on my face. With a crunch, I feel warm blood streaming out of my nose and into my mouth. I reach up to wipe it away, but my arm doesn't move.**I am paralyzed.
The pursuers catch up quickly. The numbness surrounds me, like a warm blanket on a frigid night. As the darkness starts to encroach on my field of vision, I am prodded and roughly flipped over, and I glimpse my attackers. They gather around me, staring down. The last thing l see is the Stars and Stripes of the American flag emblazoned on their chest's. The flag of my home country... “He's one of us.”, they say. I feel my heart stutter, and eventually stop.
please read and evaluate this short historical fiction story, and all comments/suggestions are appreciated. Thanks!
-Verbundëte-
It is cold outside tonight. That’s always the worst. The chill seeps into my bones, and makes me feel as if every breath whispered from my frosted lips is stealing my last vestiges of warmth, of strength. The sky is overcast, and an eerie glow shines from the clouds that wreath the moon’s starlit face.
Tremors rack my body as a bitter wind washes over my face. I am crouched in a shallow basin at the foot of a rock face, but the one sided shelter offers no protection from the biting chill. With my back pressed flush against the rocky wall, and the wind whistling all around me, thoughts flood my mind…
The flight was routine reconnaissance. Fly into Berlin, make a report, and get out. At least, that was what it was supposed to be. I had taken off at Kings Cliffe Air Force base in England that morning, intending to reach Berlin in just over two and a half hours. After I reached the destination, my mission was to make a few flyovers and provide information on German troop movement. I was cleared to fly my Mustang P-51 at just over 5,000 feet. With low cloud cover and and rough air up high, this looked to be my safest bet.
Flying that low is always a gamble, but the chances of being spotted were nearly impossible, especially with this amount of cloud cover.
*Then, with barely a warning, the sky ahead cleared. I was a sitting duck. With clear skies, my plane was an easy target for anyone below.
I turned the plane slightly, and then I saw it. Enemy troops. I could see at least three Panzer Tanks, and there were probably more in the forest. There was no chance they hadn’t seen me. I jammed the throttle, pulled back on the stick, and sent the P-51 hurtling through the brilliant*sapphire sky.
Seconds later my heart sank as a tracer round whizzed by. I willed the plane to go faster. 6,000, 7,000, I watched as the altimeter slowly climbed. Vibrations shook the plane from nose to tail as turbulence buffeted the wings. The plane jerked and veered steeply. I glanced back. Crimson tongues of flame consumed the entire left wing. The AA gun had ripped it to shreds, and I was still well within the turret's range.
I was careening through the blazing winter sky at nearly five hundred miles per hour. More bullets flew towards me. I tried wrenching the plane into a steep roll. In response the sound of shearing metal jarred my hearing. The entire left wing was gone. The plane was a missile, with only one direction. Down.
I was tumbling, out of control. The earth and sky whirled around me in a blur of melded color. I had to get out of that plane. If I stayed any longer I would die. I pulled the canopy back, slid my harness off, launched myself out of the plane, and soared through the blinding winter sky.
One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand. My trembling hand wrapped around the handle linked to the parachute on my back. Pull. The straps wrenched my shoulders up and back as the chute filled with air. My descent slowed dramatically, but the ground was still coming fast. I searched frantically for somewhere open to land, but there was nothing. Closer and closer, the treetops sped towards me.
I had nowhere to go. I was about to go straight into the forest. I shielded my face with my arms and braced for impact.
Leaves and branches tore at my body as I was tossed from tree to tree. After what seemed like a lifetime, I hit the ground. I felt searing pain radiating from my entire body. I shifted myself and the pain was nearly unbearable. I was laying on a bed of snow and needles, staring at the swirling clouds, and the corners of my vision began slowly constricting and my sight dimmed into blackness...
My unconsciousness was broken by the sound of harsh German spoken nearby. Footsteps crunched in the hard packed snow. Suddenly I was seized off the ground and thrown roughly against a tree. A man was shouting something unintelligible in German. Someone had pinned me against the tree. I could feel my pistol being yanked out of its holster. Men were everywhere, clothed in white fatigues with a red swastika plastered across their chests. They were all circled around me, watching, their eyes boring into me. I considered running, but the rifles slung over the shoulder of each and every soldier had an invisible hold on me.
They pushed and prodded me through the woods for over an hour. Finally, we reached their camp. A young officer took hold of me and lead me into a small tent in the middle of the encampment. “Are you thirsty?” his gruff German accent took me by surprise.
“No.” I replied. In truth, I was very dehydrated, but I wasn't going to give in. The man muttered something and walked out. He stood guard outside of the tent with his rifle drawn and ready.
My chest burned every time I took a breath. I must have had at least a few fractured ribs. I ripped a strip of cloth off my shirt and bound it tightly around my chest. That helped, but they still ached.
Inside the tent, there was nothing except for bare floor. I laid down, and attempted sleep. It never came, so I just closed my eyes and listened to the sounds encircling the tent. Nothing made sense, but the noise was strangely comforting.
Even though I never said anything, an hour or two later the officer came into the tent with a canteen filled with water. He handed it to me and left wordlessly. I quaffed from it deeply, and set it aside. This same treatment went on for days. I stayed in the tent, and he supplied me with food and water.
On the fifth day, gunshots rang out early in the morning. The officer told me to stay and then he took off running, gun held high. Everyone had left. I was alone. I seized the opportunity, and sprinted out into the clearing. When I saw that I truly was alone, I decided to explore.
The first thing I noticed was the command tent. It was larger than all the rest, and was situated in the center of the camp. It was only a hundred yards away, and I was there in under a minute. Inside there was a cot, and a few tables with maps pinned on top. I scanned around, and saw something that took me by surprise. One of the maps that was lying around showed plans for a German offensive movement against the Allies. If this surprise attack was put into play, the Allies would certainly lose the war.
I grabbed the plans, rolled them up, and walked out of the compound. Suddenly, I heard a shout. A German soldier spotted me! I took off running, and I had no idea of where to go. I just ran. My lungs throbbed, and my heart pounded in my chest. I was drenched in sweat. The sounds of someone stumbling through the trees and snow echoed from behind me. I ran faster. As I sprinted, the sounds of pursuit faded off into the distance. But I still ran.
I traveled through the Ardennes all day, until right before dusk when I found a rocky outcropping where I could spend the night. I nestled into a stone basin, and drifted into a restless sleep. I didn't sleep for long. It was too cold. The wind washed into the alcove, and robbed me of precious heat...
The noise of pebbles sliding down the scree above me snaps me out of my stupor. My breathing quickens, and my heart starts to race. Footsteps click on gravel as someone steps down the slope. Closer and closer they come, and I'm in plain sight. I have only one option. A torchlight sweeps over my head as I slowly count down from three. Three, two, one.
I explode from my shelter and start to run. The pop of handguns resound around me. Bullets speed by, but I still run. The plans are stuffed into my pocket, and they methodically bang into my thigh as I bound through the trees. A river gurgles ahead. Suddenly I feel a bullet rip through my chest. The pain is absent, with just a numbness in it's place. The force of the impact causes me to slip, and fall flat on my face. With a crunch, I feel warm blood streaming out of my nose and into my mouth. I reach up to wipe it away, but my arm doesn't move.**I am paralyzed.
The pursuers catch up quickly. The numbness surrounds me, like a warm blanket on a frigid night. As the darkness starts to encroach on my field of vision, I am prodded and roughly flipped over, and I glimpse my attackers. They gather around me, staring down. The last thing l see is the Stars and Stripes of the American flag emblazoned on their chest's. The flag of my home country... “He's one of us.”, they say. I feel my heart stutter, and eventually stop.