Tuesday April 4th

I wake early in the morning to the sound of buzzing. The rays of dawn just barely pierce the windows of our barracks. Obrenski snores contently and Kurtz down at the end is still fast asleep. I look at my watch and see that it is 5:30 in the morning. I try to roll over to go back to sleep in an effort to delay the fore coming of my day but the buzzing still continues like an ever persistent mosquito. It buzzes distantly, breaking the early dawn's silence. I come to the conclusion that any further sleep is futile for the infernal buzzing keeps my mind from drifting to sleep. The sound grows louder as though it nears closer. I sit upright and turn my head and listen as the buzzing grows louder, it is the unmistakable sound of a propeller. A plane! Are we under attack? Why are the guns not firing? Where is the Lieutenant? I jump off my cot and fling open the door, I take a sharp left and race up to the shack door. But before I can knock on the door, a voice startles me from behind. "Something wrong? You are up awfully early Franz." the voice says. I look back and see Lieutenant Spreig in his crisp officers uniform, he wears his leather military trench coat. I raced out in such a hurry that I didn't even realize how chilly it was, my body shudders.

The blue and purple early morning light illuminates the Lieutenant just enough for me to make out his silhouette. "Lieutenant Sprieg." I say, "There are planes flying over us. Why are we not shooting?" He looks and points to dark shapes flying far on the west horizon and asks confidently, " You mean those planes?" I feel puzzled because I do not understand why he is not alarmed.

He answers the riddle for me by saying, "They are Focke-Wulfs. They're ours Franz, it's a training flight. The Luftwaffe usually trains its new pilots in the early hours where there are less Allied patrols. They don't usually fly this far west though." I look at the two distant shapes that look like two dark birds in flight as they fly side by side banking and turning gracefully. The sun has started to emerge from the eastern horizon and rays of light now reveal the green grass, white and yellow flowers that grow in the fields. It also shows the farmers field of barren earth where this year's crop has not yet broken through its brown earthen barrier.

Me and the Lieutenant watch as the two distinct fighter shapes practice their turns and dives, the gray and yellow paint now becoming visible. I am about to turn back when flashes of small orange light burst from the second plane. Then another and another, soon the fighter craft begins to lose altitude. I watch in horror as the plane stumbles and descents rapidly from the sky toward us. Me and the Lieutenant witness the fighter crash nose first in the farmers field at least three hundred yards away, churning up the earth in the process, before flipping over. The Lieutenant looks at me and exclaims "Go wake Obrenski and Kurtz quickly!" I rush to the barracks door and shout, "Obrenski! Kurtz! A plane just crashed!" Kurtz jumps up and shouts excitedly, "A plane crashed?!" "Yes a plane crashed!" I reply frantically. Obrenski still snores, I quickly grab the book off my shelf and throw it at him. He exclaimes as it bounces off of him, "What the hell?!" I yell at him, "Get up, a plane just crashed in the farmer's field, come on!" Obrenski jumps up and asks wobbly, "Where?"

We rush out of the barracks to the kubelwagen where we find it already started up with the Lieutenant in the driver's seat. We all freeze for a moment for we have never seen Lieutenant Spreig drive before. "What are you waiting for?" He shouts, "Get in!" Obrenski jumps into the passenger seat and me and Kurtz file in the back. The Lieutenant steps on the pedal and we race to the crash site that is on the far side of the farmers field.

All that separates us from the crash site is the farmer's barbed wire fence but to get around it would take time we don't have. The Lieutenant shouts, "Hold on!" as we head straight for the fence. He intends to ram it! We all brace as the vehicle slams through the fence at high speed. Barbed wire flies over the hood, producing a terrible metallic screeching, up the windscreen scratching the glass and we duck as it passes over heads. We were inches away from brutal decapitation by the metal razor wire. We clear the fence and rumble down the mounds of planted earth. Obrenski shouts holding on tightly, "That was brash even for you Spreig!"

As we near, I can see the crash more clearly. A large trail of debris can be seen streaked behind the craft as it obviously slid breaking up the earth before coming to its resting place. The fighter is an FW 190 that has tumbled upside down where the cockpit has been embedded into the earth. Most of the plane is still intact with the exception of the tail and the left wing missing. The gray and yellow paint had looked as though it were brand new. Lieutenant Spreig had barely stopped the vehicle before jumping out of the drivers seat and raced toward the downed craft. He shouts back to us, " Franz, Obrenski lift up that wing!" We hop out of the kubelwagen and sprint behind him. The Lieutenant tries desperately to lift the aircraft single handedly by attempting to raise the point on the aircraft where the wing juts into the fuselage which is the closest to the cockpit. Me and Obrenski relieve him by attempting to raise the craft. By our combined strength we are able to lift the side of the craft slightly off the ground just giving enough room to access a side of the embedded cockpit. The Lieutenant takes off his leather trench coat and wraps it around his hand, he takes his now wrapped hand and begins breaking off the remaining pieces of the already broken cockpit windscreen. "Kurtz, come here now!" he shouts as he re-dons his coat. Kurtz jumps out of the kubelwagen and dashes over to us. The Lieutenant pulls from his boot a large knife and hands it to Kurtz. He says to Kurtz," I won't fit. Take this, crawl under there and cut him loose." My arms strain to hold the craft but I must manage for if we release our hold, the fighter would crush Kurtz and the pilot. I watch Kurtz squirm into the exposed portion of the now underground cockpit followed by the sounds of cutting. After a minute, Kurtz exclaims," Done!" The Lieutenant commands, "Hold on to him and don't let go." Then he stands up and grabs Kurtz by the legs and pulls him as far back as he can. He drags out Kurtz followed by an unconscious bloodied pilot. The Lieutenant drops Kurtz and rushes to the injured man. Me and Obrenski's arms buckle and we drop the craft with a soft thud.

I look up and see the first fighter circling to check on the status of his wingman. The Lieutenant places his ear to the unconscious pilot's chest and exclaims unusually calm, "He's still breathing, we need to get him to the hospital. Obrenski, Franz help me with him." We quickly aid the Lieutenant in picking up the bloodied pilot, his brown wool lined flight jacket is spotted with blood. His pilot cap and goggles are cracked, his face is terribly bloody for he must have hit the control panel when he crashed. We carry the limp body back to the kubelwagen and place him in the back seat. "Franz you drive, quickly. Obrenski, you help me with him." commands the Lieutenant. I jump in the front seat of the still running kubelwagen. Kurtz climbs into the passenger seat and the Lieutenant and Obrenski nestle the injured pilot between them. I step on the petal and then we dash down the bumpy cultivated earth.

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My mind races for I wonder if we can save this man, the hospital is at least fifteen minutes to the north. I hear behind me the orders of Lieutenant Sprieg, "Hold him still, he cracked his head pretty bad, 9let me see his chest." I hear the sound of cloth being cut followed by Obrenski saying, "I don't think this one is going to make it Sprieg." The Lieutenant responds calmly but almost defeated, " He has to, we are almost there." We race down the dirt road, the cool morning wind blasts us, I look over and see Kurtz straining to look at the scene behind him. I jerk him on the shoulder and he jumps startled. I say, "Eyes ahead Kurtz." as I try to shield him from the graphicness of the event. I still catch him attempting to peek over his shoulder.

We now enter the city limits and we pass through a small residential area, houses line the side of the streets as cars and laypersons go about their business in this early morning. "Franz." the Lieutenant commands calmly, " Don't stop." I take note and blow past the first stop sign. I am about to cross another when an automobile pulls out in front of us. My heart stops for the vehicle stops and sits there in the middle of the street. In a quick split second decision I swerve around the vehicle and up on to the curb before we jolt back on to the street and continue on our way. The sound of honking and vulgarities follow behind us as I hear from Obrenski, " Dammit Franz! Watch it." "You are doing fine Franz." chimes the Lieutenant.

We near the hospital which sticks out as a large four story Y shaped building that rises above the mostly small houses. We pull up to the blue brick hospital and stop at the emergency room entrance. The Lieutenant jumps out of the vehicle and orders, "Obrenski, Franz, bring him inside." before disappearing behind the wooden double doors. I hop out and assist

Obrenski with picking up the injured pilot. I grab his legs and Obrenski grab his shoulders and we shuffle him out of the kubelwagen. "Kurtz get the door!" I command, he hops out of the vehicle and races to the wooden double doors. Before he can reach them, the doors fly open and out comes the Lieutenant and a man in a white coat who must be a doctor. He walks up to us and we stop. He examines the still unconscious but now shirtless pilot whose blood covers his face as I now notice the large gash across his forehead. The doctor stands over him while me and Obrenski suspend him in the air. The doctor is an older slim and tall man with graying salt and pepper hair. He places his hand to the pilot's face and moves it side to side examining both sides of his head. I hear the pilot's raspy breathing for the first time this whole endeavor but also notice how incredibly young he is, he couldn't have been much older than me. The doctor says nonchalantly with a huff, "Alright let's get him to X-rays." He waves his hand and two young nurses in snow white gowns roll out a metal gurney. Me and Obrenski gingerly place him on the gurney before the two women nurses roll him away back inside the building.

Me, Obrenski and Kurtz sit in wooden chairs in the waiting room of the emergency department. I noticed during our hour stay here that this hospital hasn't been acquisitioned by the Wehrmacht yet. Lieutenant Sprieg has been back there with the doctor for quite a while. I look around and observe the nurses escorting sick and injured people past the triage doors further into the hospital itself for treatment. I examine the blue tiled walls and watch the nurse at the glassed in front desk file through papers. Obrenski admires the young nurses and occasionally attempts to flirt with them before he usually gets turned down with a smile from their ruby red lips. Kurtz just sits there quietly observing the activity around him.

Suddenly the Doctor and the Lieutenant emerge from the back rooms talking with one another. I can overhear them speaking, "I'm sorry Sprieg, there is nothing I could do for him. He had severe internal bleeding, a cracked sternum, multiple rib fractures and he broke his C-2 through C-5. Even if I could have saved him, he would have been a quadriplegic. The Luftwaffe just simply lost another young pilot." The Lieutenant asks disappointingly, "He was just a boy, what do you plan to do with the body?" The Doctor replies, "We will hold him in the morgue until someone comes to collect him. If no one shows, we will cremate him." Lieutenant looks down sorrowfully. "I'm sorry Sprieg." the Doctor says holding out his hand. The two men shakes hands before the Doctor leaves him. The Lieutenant walks over to us somberly and says, "He's dead."

"Dead?" cries Kurtz. "Yes Kurtz, he's dead." Kurtz looks down as though he simply can't process the idea of death. It is probably his first time having been so close to someone so gravely injured, mine too for that matter.

"I told you Sprieg." blurts Obrenski. "Enough!' snaps the Lieutenant.

It was a silent ride back to our post, none of us uttered a word. I couldn't stop thinking of how young he was. That could have been me if I had followed that path. We arrive at the gun pit late morning, it is a bright and sunny day and a cool breeze blows down from the north. The Lieutenant steps out of the kubelwagen and says soberly, "We will clean the gun in a little while. For now you are dismissed to collect yourselves." We scatter about our ways, Lieutenant disappears inside his shack while me, Obrenski and Kurtz retire to our prospective cots. After a while of silence, Kurtz asks innocently, "Do you think he is heaven Franz?" I never thought about it but where does the soul go after this life. I mean I am a believer but why so young? Why him? What makes him so different from any of us. He woke up this morning and had no anticipation of death. Why the gun could explode and kill us all and it would all be over for us. Is it really that simple? Really that quick? How does God decide who and when? I snap from my deep thoughts and give a reassuring answer, "Yes Kurtz, I am sure he is in heaven." Obrenski grunts, "Wherever he is I'm sure it is better then this hell. Damn Nazis, damn this war."

By early afternoon we are scrubbing the gun, The sun is high in the sky and burns hot. Obrenski sits shirtless suspended by straddling the gun barrel with cloth in hand, his coveralls hang below the knees of his gray pants. His burly hairy chest gleams with sweat. The Lieutenant sits in a chair by an outdoor table and listens to the radio set that is under a small tarp. Kurtz dips his cloth into a bucket of water and cleans the gears while I grease the inside of the gun breech. Obrenski blurts, "How young was he Sprieg?" The Lieutenant pauses awhile and says softly, "His tag said nineteen twenty five, so he was nineteen." Obrenski grunts, "Damn shame isn't it." "Enough." snaps the Lieutenant still listening to the radio. "You know as well as I that this is getting out of hand." says Obrenski. The Lieutenant glares at him and snaps again," I said enough, he is another casualty of war. That is all." "More like another number on a government chart." Obrenski mumbles looking down while scrubbing the cannon. "Obrenski!" shouts the Lieutenant, me and Kurtz freeze. Obrenski just smiles, shrugs and continues his task.

The rest of the day was uneventful and with that we retired for the evening. I couldn't help but to think of the pilot and how he died at nineteen. How he could have had a full life ahead of him. I think how this is my first encounter with death. My mind races until the late hours of the night before exhaustion sets in and I fall asleep.