Bedtime Story

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Bedtime Story

Mensagempor LBR=Gustav.Denk » Seg Set 15, 2014 6:22 pm

Bedtime Story

It was early in the morning when little Heinz came to wake me up. Urgent briefing awaited me, I rushed into my clothes and went to the hangar. Commander William (or it might have been Wilson, my memory is failing me lately) was already warming things up. Being fresh from the academy I was a bit nervous and I failed to digest all the flight plan info. My mind kept wandering to my childhood in Karlsruhe, all that playing in the park by The Schloss, the fair maidens parading around, the astonishingly great beer... -'HEY !! You there!! Stop daydreaming, son of a gun!! This is KampfGruppen Eins. Fit in and wake up or I will do it for you!!' - That was sweet old commander in his best moments... Well, I miss it all anyway.

Dawn was still creeping over the horizon and my crew was already strapped to our wondrous Ju-88 - A war winner plane, if I am allowed to say it. The two powerful DB engines flared alive and I throttled up and started taxiing. Great care needed there, I tell you young ones. Saw several good planes and crews go up in flames after a crash during taxi. Eyeballs wide open, I formed on the runway. Ops, sorry there number two, just overtook your plane. You see, I actually made the whole flight in position number 1.5, half-squeezing close to the leader. I hope number two has forgiven me, God rest his soul. Oberfeldwebel Karl Von Piperen was just on my 5 o'clock. Engines roaring we filled the sky with german wonder. Ah, those were the times. You see, my boy, all the girls then reeeeally looked forward to be nice to... Oh, here comes your mother! Let's keep that to ourselves, shall we? And quit the snickering.

Where was I? Yes, yes, I got it. After a few circles around the base to allow for everyone to catch up, South we went. Have I told you that happened in Crimea? What is that? No, it is not in Hawaii, never mind. Anyway, I'll speak to your mother about Geography. When she was your age she already knew where Crimea is, I taught her well. Oh, your Grandma did a nice job too, God embrace those old bones in his lap. Now shut up and listen, soon I will need to take my medicine and then I won't remember even my name.

We made a nice formation so-called Gaggle at the time. Yes, yes, pretty nice. Several fighters above us for protection, and up we went, to destroy the harbor at Sevastopol. After several uneventful minutes, with Von Piperen flying ever closer, the damned russian flak started to explode around us. Flak, young one, is bombs exploding in mid-air trying to kill your Grandpa. Our beloved Commander's plane started to smoke. Not a giant cigar, no. How do you come up with such stuff anyway? His engine was letting out smoke, bad sign. But on he went, as only a true Arian can manage. Hey kid, forget I said that. Other times, other times.

Anyway after a few changes in course, we aimed straight for the harbor. I must tell you, kid, that Commander Willie (as we called him) did a nice and smooth flight that night. He then reminded us his plan. To dive bomb and hit the harbor from very low altitude. Dangerous stuff, kid! I could feel von Piperen trembling with fear! My crew, of course, was cool as a nice beer in winter. The Commander signaled, start dive NOW!

Down we went. Airbrakes deployed, wind whistling all around us, plane shaking, flak all over us, and a damned fighter trying his best to blow us to smithereens. Hope he rots in Hell, that Fu@#@#@g bastard!! Eh, never mind that too, kid, I must be getting a little dizzy. No, Grandpa never says four-letter words. Neither should you. So, we were plummeting from the sky, I let my plane drift a bit to the right from Willie's, and I dropped the bombs. Bombs Los !!! Then to hear the amazing blast of German Ire. That morning I blasted a whole industrial block to pieces. Commander Willie, I was told later, got really mad cause he missed his target. Anyway, he was a good commander.

Alas! That damned fighter was still in our six, firing like his got the whole Russian Goddamned Ammo Industry packed inside that Devil Beblasted piece of S#it !! I got my comms and yelled for help!! Banking left my plane pulled up and leaped ahead. Full Throttle!! My gunners were firing, but they were called Moe, Larry and Curly. What that means?? Come on! It means they hit shit!!! Our plane was being chewed to pieces by the Almightly Deformed Bolshevik, may he burn in the seven circles of Hell, may his seed never bear fruit! ... Argh!! Kid, get me that red pill over there, quick!! No, no, Grandpa is fine. Let me drink this. Red?? Who is red like a newborn pig, you little... Come here!!

Ok. Now behave and listen. After what seemed an eternity our fighters finally got to help us, exploding the Red Rat as he deserved. Well, if you ask me, he really deserved a slow, bubbling, very painful... Never mind. Free from the enemies we made our way to a closer airstrip and landed. Actually I half destroyed my plane during that disturbing and most uncomfortable landing. Larry unfortunately did not survive, God take his soul and keep him warm and dry. That, little man, was how Grandpa got this here medal. Now rush to bed. Come on, good night. Sleep tight.

Oh!! Hi sweetie. What I was doing? Nothing. Just telling the kid a nice bedtime story. Yelling? No, that must have been the neighbor. You know how that fellow can get his temper worked up. Good night.
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