Monday, April 3rd

It is late morning and a cool spring breeze blows, bringing dandelions and scent of fresh flowers throughout the air. The sun beams high in the clear blue sky and the heat is enough to make you sweat. I sit there in my cot reading a book while Obrenski two cots down sleeps snoring heavily, he always snores. Just then Lieutenant Sprieg, sharply dressed in a crisp officer uniform, steps in and behind him is Kurtz.

He announces calmly, "Gentlemen man your stations." I quickly set down my book and jump to my feet. Obrenski lays there still aggressively snoring. "OBRENSKI!" he shouts. Obrenski startles awake and manages to his feet. Obrenski now looks wide eyed at the Lieutenant. "Man your station." the Lieutenant calmly orders. Lieutenant Sprieg then turns and steps outside while trailing behind him is young Kurtz. Me and Obrenski soon follow behind them and man our perspective places on the Flak 88 cannon. "Are they going to attack us?" Kurtz asks naively. The Lieutenant, standing over the radio with a headphone to his ear, answers, "No Kurtz not today, they are returning to England." Obrenski chimes in, "We are too small a target to waste bombs on Kurtz."

After a moment the Lieutenant speaks, "Radar is tracking a formation that is going to pass into our sector soon. Obrenski, traverse the gun to the north." Obrenski complies by rapidly spinning the traversing handwheel, small clicks can be heard for each degree turned. Slowly the massive gun swivels on its axle. Now it faces northward, barrel parallel to the earth. "Elevate to thirty five degrees." the Lieutenant orders calmly. Furiously, Obrenski cranks the second handwheel and the barrel is slowly raised to the sky. Now the weapon is stopped at a thirty five degree angle.

After about twenty minutes hundreds of silver specks begin to appear to the north just above the horizon. The Lieutenant, using his binoculars, studies them closely like a scientist would use a microscope. He calmly announces, "Lancasters, it's the British. Altitude twenty thousand feet. Obrenski traverse left seventeen degrees, up seven." He orders. The clicking of the handwheels cranking sound out every degree until the weapon reaches its desired position. The Lieutenant, still looking through his binoculars, calmly orders, "Load." Kurtz takes one of the three foot shells from a box that have spring wound timer fuzes that are preset for twenty seconds. All Kurtz has to do is retrieve the right timed shell from the right box. He dashes over to me lugging the shell that is almost as tall as he is, "Don't trip Kurtz." Obrenski jokes while Kurtz's pants legs drag the ground.

He hands me a shell and rushes back to grab another. I cram the brass shell into the breech, the hatch automatically slams shut. "Fire." the Lieutenant orders calmly. I clamp down on the firing lever and in a flash of bright light, the weapon roars a thunderous boom. The ground shakes as the massive barrel recoils back into the weapon and then back into its firing position. The smoking spent brass shell is violently ejected from the gun. We watch as the yellow tracer shell streaks across the blue sky and it ends in a small black puff of smoke among the formation of silver specks.

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Suddenly there are other loud booming sounds as the other guns in our battery open fire. Soon the fields are alive with what sounds like rolling thunder. Little black puffs of smoke can be seen dancing around the glimmering silver specks. "Again." orders the Lieutenant, "Obrenski, traverse two degrees left after each shot." Just then Kurtz hands me another shell and I slam it into the breech, the hatch slams closed and I pull again on the firing lever. Boom! My ears start ringing and the ground shudders as the weapon recoils. Another shell is once again aggressively ejected. The sharp clicks sound as Obreski rotates the gun slightly with the first hand wheel. Kurtz tosses me another armed brass shell, I slam it into the breech, the hatch slams close again and I pull the lever. Boom! The earth rocks as the gun recoils and spits out another shell casing. I look up and see an orange burst in the sky as one bomber explodes. Its fire ball plummets to earth.

"Good work!" shouts a jubilant Obrenski. "We got one!" shouts Kurtz excitingly. The Lieutenant smiles slightly, still observing through his binoculars, and orders, "Again, Obrenski keep leading." Kurtz rushes me another shell and I once again slam it into the breech, and watch the hatch quickly close. I pull the lever and the gun roars, I watch yellow streak across the sky. The gun forcefully ejects another brass shell and soon a pile of brass casings begins to take form. Two more fireballs erupt in the distance and begin their slow spiral to the ground.

After a few more shots, the silver specks disappear out of view. "Hold fire." orders Lieutenant Sprieg in his usual calm manner. Kurtz replaces the shells as Obreski stretches. I start picking up the spent shell casings and throw them out of the trench. Kurtz asks gleefully, "Do you think we got that one Lieutenant?" "Maybe." is his response. "Of course we hit it! Sprieg we should paint another ring on the gun." blurts Obrenski. Lieutenant Sprieg just continues about his task of writing reports.

Suddenly a car pulls beside our trench and out steps a barrel chested man in overalls holding a tray. It's the farmer who owns the adjacent field. "Well Lieutenant, any good hunting today?" he asks boisterously. The Lieutenant replies like a fisherman who had a poor cast, "Just three today." "Well three less we have to worry about." the farmer says with a jolly smile. "My wife made you gents something." he says, showing us the little triangle sandwiches on the tray. We giddily look at the Lieutenant, he nods in approval and us three swarm up the ramp for the farmer's delectable snacks. I pull mine from the tray and find that it is a ham sandwich, and at first bite I discover it is very delicious indeed.

Kurtz and Obrenski grab two each and scamper back down the ramp munching on their loot. Lieutenant Sprieg walks up to the farmer and begins to talk, though it is inaudible from where I stand. The spring breeze returns and gently blows the grass and flowers. I go about still picking up the spent shell casings as I munch on the sandwich. Just then I hear the Lieutenant shout,"Obrenski, go to town and pick up more ammunition from the supply depot. Take Kurtz and Franz with you."

Obrenski shouts his reply, "Do I really have to?" The Lieutenant glares at him and speaks, "After your last incursion into town, I don't trust you to be alone."