American Flyboy

€ 4,49

Excerpt from American Flyboy 2nd Edition:

Inside the frigid private hangar, its roof a great curve of corrugated iron, the wide-open front and rear doors provided a panoramic view of the airfield and the roads leading to it. Tenderly, Wilhelm kissed Kenneth's wounded hand before carefully slipping a glove over the bandages. Next he adjusted the chin strap of his flight helmet, and afterwards fetched goggles, life preserver and a parachute from storage lockers along the walls. Mere seconds into Kenneth guiding Wilhelm's right arm into a parachute pack, the Resistance leader spied two black BMWs speeding toward them, small Nazi flags attached to the front tire fenders rippling in the wind. He wriggled his arm free of the pack and hurled it to the cement floor. "Board the plane, now!"

"What's the hell's the matter; what do you see?" Kenneth demanded, his insides quivering as they ran out of the hangar toward the readied plane. Braun fished their flight plan from his jacket pocket as he pointed out the two black BMW's to his lover. Swiftly he strapped his flyboy into the pilot's seat, kissed him deeply, tossed a paper containing flight coordinates into the passenger seat, secured the door, then stepped back a safe distance. Abruptly, Wilhelm's body recoiled as he clutched his chest, blood oozing over and around his right hand. "It's the Gestapo! Take off now!" he shouted, grimacing as he fell to his knees.

"Are you crazy? I'm not gonna leave you to the fucking wolves."

Wilhelm touched the palm of his hand lightly to his lips, then blew a kiss to his flyboy. "I love you always. Get out of here! Go!"

"I love you too," he yelled back with bullets zipping past him. The American fighter ace fumbled with the controls until the plane lurched forward. Fully engaging the throttle, it sped down the runway. Bullets continued to whiz all around him as he pulled back hard on the controls, achieving a positive rate of climb.

"Goddamn it, Wilhelm, why didn't you get your fucking ass in this plane?" he bawled, sobbing uncontrollably, his lips quivering as he slammed his good hand against the plane's steering wheel again and again, the plane veering wildly. "We were almost there," he cried, his voice breaking.

Turning the control wheel hard left, Kenneth circled back over the airfield, making one last pass over the miniature soldiers and cars. He could barely make out a Gestapo agent shoving his lover into the backseat of one of the black BMW's, his hands cuffed behind his back, blood having soaked through the entire front of his tan flight overalls. His heart ached at the thought of the man he loved in the hands of the Gestapo. A huge lump formed in his throat, he sobbed with uneven breaths, wailing his lover's name. Once more, bullets zeroed in on him, coming dangerously close, as the agents kept firing. One found its mark, striking the plane with a muffled thud as it lodged in the wing. Kenneth increased the plane's speed, waving his wings goodbye to his Wilhelm.