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hbowarbabes · 3 months

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Living to See Another Day Pt. 4

John "Bucky" Egan x Reader

Summary: Bucky and Y/n are found unconscious in the middle of a forest. They are taken by two German officers, both getting separated upon arrival at the transit camp. Now being in front of an all-too-relaxed interrogator, Bucky is unsure of where he’ll go, or if he and Y/n will be reunited again.

Warnings: Violence, and overall disturbing topics based in episode 6 of mota

Words: 3.9k

• • •

As Bucky and Y/n lay bruised and unconscious in the middle of the dense forest, the sounds of leaves rustling and wind blowing were the only things to break the silence. They remained there for what had to be longer than an hour since it was still daylight.

Suddenly, the tranquility of the forest was shattered by the aggressive shouts of two German officers.

Y/n's eyes snapped open, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to make sense of what was happening. Her muscles ached badly, and she couldn’t find the strength within herself to stand up.

Before she could turn her head and see who was there, she felt the cold metal tip of a rifle poking her in the back, causing her whole body to tensen up.

With a jolt, Bucky was kicked over onto his back by one of the officers, his eyes fluttering open groggily. The other officer kept a pistol pointed directly at Y/n's head, the threat of violence looming heavily in the air. Y/n's heart raced as she tried to process the gravity of their situation. They were caught once again with no way out.

Bucky struggled to sit up, his head spinning from the impact of being beaten back in the town.

His eyes locked onto Y/n's, a silent fear lingering in them. Both of them knew that much worse things would be awaiting them.

The officers barked orders in German, their harsh tones sending a surge of panic within Y/n.

Left with no choice, Y/n and Bucky stood up, following the officers to wherever they would be taken.

• • •

Faces still covered in blood and bruises, Y/n and Bucky now sat in the backseat of a car. Next to Y/n, one of the guards sat, staring at her with a threatening glare.

The two of them sat in silence, their hands bound to their side’s as they were being escorted to an unknown destination by two German officers.

The trees blurred past the windows of the car as it sped down the dirt road, the sound of the engine drowning out any chance of conversation between anyone in the vehicle.

Y/n's mind wandered to their close call with death in that city. She remembered the way Bucky had tried keeping her from getting harmed. The image of him getting beat and the other men being slaughtered wouldn’t leave her mind.

The last thing she remembered was rushing to Bucky’s side before she was knocked out.

In the forest, where they had never felt more vulnerable, they stuck together. Y/n was beginning to feel hopeful about the situation between her and Bucky.

Now, sitting side by side in the back of the car, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of regret. If only they had talked, she thought. If only they had put their feelings aside and just forgave each other.

But now it was too late. They were going to some place they didn’t know, with their fate still in question. The idea of ever getting back to England seemed so distant now.

Bucky sat with his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. He too had recalled that moment in the forest when he and Y/n had come so close to being together. And now, all it would become was a memory. One they might never have the opportunity to build on.

If he were able to speak, he would’ve said so much to Y/n. He would’ve held her and kissed her and told her that everything would be ok. But what good would lying do for them?

For now, it was best that they be realistic and not break any rules. From there and beyond, they had no rights. They had no freedom.

• • •

Dulag Luft Prisoner of War Transit Camp,

Frankfurt, Germany

Y/n sat alone in the cold, dark room. She could hear nothing but the sound of her own breathing, the silence weighing heavily on her. She missed Bucky desperately and wished she could see his face again. Even if he was only a room away, it still felt like he was too far for Y/n.

The room was small and cramped, with only a tiny window high up on the wall letting in a sliver of dim light. Y/n shivered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. She could see her breath in the chill air, a stark reminder of just how isolated and helpless she felt.

She had been separated from Bucky when they were being led down the halls of the transit camp. Bucky shot her a subtle grin. It was a genuine one.

“I love you, Y/n!” He shouted as the two were being led into different parts of the dimly-lit hall.

“John-” The guard aggressively yanked Y/n’s arm away from Bucky as she tried to reach for him, causing her to be slammed against the wall.

It didn’t matter; woman or not, they were still going to treat her as a prisoner.

Bucky tried to help Y/n, but he too was held back, pushed against the ground by the guard.

“Macht schnell!” “Hurry up!” The guard shouted at Y/n, forcing her to continue as if Bucky wasn’t just thrown to the ground.

The last time she saw him, he was being dragged away to a room right across from hers by the aggressive guard. It helped ease Y/n nerves, knowing he wasn’t far. But not for long.

Now, all she could do was wait. Wait for the uncertainty of what would happen next, wait for any sign of hope that she would see Bucky again. But the minutes stretched on endlessly, each one blending into the next in a monotonous haze of despair.

Y/n tried to keep herself busy, pacing back and forth in the small room. She counted the seconds, the minutes, the hours, trying to stave off the gnawing feeling of fear and loneliness that threatened to consume her.

She felt like she was going crazy even though she had only stayed in that room for what would be longer than an hour. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that settled in the pit of her stomach.

She longed for Bucky's strong arms around her, for his reassuring presence to chase away the darkness that clung to her like a shroud.

Y/n eventually gave up trying to convince herself that she’d see him again, and fell back in the weak seat behind her, leaning her head against the cold wall. She still felt the pain in her head, but it had felt a little less sore as she started to get used to it. The feeling of pain.

• • •

“Major Egan, come in.”

Bucky was pushed into the room where his interrogator sat, sounding extremely calm given the situation. It had to be an act. Bucky could feel that this man’s intentions were far from genuine.

Taking a quick glance behind him, Bucky watched as the officers who had dragged him into that room slammed the door shut.

“I am your interrogator, Lieutenant Hausmann. Please, sit.” The interrogator’s eyes motioned to the empty chair in front of his desk.

Just as Bucky got settled in the chair, Hausman stood up.

“Can I pour you a whiskey?”

His eyes went wide in confusion. “How could this man be acting so nice?” He wondered. Either way, Bucky went along with it. It wasn’t like he had an option.

“Thanks.” Bucky commented dryly, a feeling of unease settling within him.

As he looked up at the wall in front of him, he noticed the picture of Hitler sitting neatly on the wall. How one man could cause so much damage was beyond Bucky’s understanding.

Hausmann brought two glasses, both filled barely halfway. Handing the glass to Bucky, the interrogator held a grin that was almost intimidating. Something felt off, but Bucky just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Here’s, uh, mud in your eye.” Bucky made the toast to himself before consuming the much needed drink.

The liquid burned his throat, but he welcomed the warmth spreading through his body. He didn’t know how much he missed it up until now.

Hausmann, still with his glass in his hand, watched as Bucky downed his drink. Hausmann simply grinned, his mouth wrinkling at the corners. His other features remained still, almost as if he wasn’t even real.

“I don’t know that one.”

Breaking out of his motionless manner, he held his glass up.

“Here’s mud in your eye.”

After having a taste of the whiskey, Hausmann slowly set his glass down on the table, then bringing his attention to the pile of papers on his desk. He grabbed the thin file on top, centering it as he scanned the writing on the file.

“So . . .where shall we begin?”

“How about I was in a town and, um, someone shot four of the guys with me.” Bucky spoke in a gruff voice, his head hanging low as he avoided eye contact with the interrogator.

“Oh, my God. What town?” Hausmann put on the concerned act, still keeping his face stern and still.

“Rüssheim, something. I don’t know-”

“Rüsselsheim.” The interrogator cut in, already familiar with the city Bucky was referring to.

“That’s tragic. I will add it to the report.” There was no sincerity in Hausmann’s tone or his demeanor. He reached for a pen and some paper.

“Your colleagues, the ones who were killed, if you give me their names and rank, I can pass it on to-”

“I don’t know their names. We just happened to be put together.” Bucky was growing more suspicious of Hausmann’s tactics.

“Look, I appreciate the drink and, um, would really appreciate a thicker blanket, but as far as what you’re gonna get from me, it’s gonna be name, rank, and serial-”

“And serial number. Yours is O-399510. Yes, I already know that.” A smug grin was plastered across Hausmann’s face as Bucky’s head shot up.

“I also know you were born in Manitowoc, Wisconsin.”

Hausmann began flipping through the pages in the file and reading off whatever information was stated in Bucky’s file. That did not sit well with Bucky.

“Married?”

Bucky remained silent, his jaw clenching at the fear that this man might try to do something to Y/n if he even thought to mention her. But there was no need to think about it.

“From what I hear, you’ve been accompanied by your partner, Y/n y/l/n, yes?”

The sound of her name nearly brought Bucky inches from grabbing the interrogator by the throat. He had to remain calm. Not just for himself, but for Y/n. He didn’t want them to hurt her, or worse- kill her.

“We spoke. She’s. . . different from the many pilots I have encountered. Not the most cooperative.”

On the inside, Bucky prayed that Y/n didn’t sign her death wish during her interrogation. But he also wanted to laugh at the thought of Y/n arguing with Hausmann. She always had a rebellious streak in her since Bucky had known her.

“Female pilots are not common these days. She must have a lot to bring to the table, even with an attitude like hers.” As the interrogator chuckled in a mocking manner, Bucky could feel his fists clenching up.

Hausmann continued to the next page of the file, repeating all information put down.

“Squadron, 418th. Group, the 100th Bomber Group. H for Heavy. Headquartered at Thorpe Abbotts.”

Bucky couldn’t stand Hausmann’s scheming approach. Not knowing what to hear next, he watched as the interrogator continuously flipped through pages, eventually coming to a pause.

Hausmann brought his eyes away from the file and on to Bucky, holding the same devious grin that he had been putting on the whole time they had talked.

“Are you a baseball fan, Major?”

Bucky kept his stoic expression, not allowing his eyes to meet Hausmann’s.

“Certainly that’s not a national secret.”

Hausmann reached for a carton of cigarettes laying next to his empty whiskey glass as he smirked deceitfully.

“Cigarette?”

He held the open carton out in front of Bucky, urging him to take one for himself. Unsuspecting, Bucky took a cigarette.

As he brought the cigarette to his lips, Hausmann stood up from his chair, taking out a lighter. Bucky leaned forward, allowing the interrogator to light his cigarette.

“Sorry they are not as good as your American brands. Lucky Strike is my personal preference.” Hausmann sat back down, still keeping his eyes glued on Bucky as he took a puff of his cigarette.

“Baseball is still a bit of a mystery to me,” The interrogator was quick to change the subject.

“With all the sticks and bases, running in circles. Hausmann’s eyebrows shot up as he shook his head.

“There was the big championship last week, wasn’t there?”

“Yeah, the World Series.” Bucky didn’t sound eager to discuss the topic of sports. This wasn’t something he would really consider an interrogation. There were just a plethora of topics, along with some pieces of personal information being brought up. Nothing more. But what was it that this man really wanted to know?

“Yes, the World Series,” Hausmann nodded to himself, laughing dryly. “The New York Yankees versus the St. Louis Cardinals. A rematch, yes?”

“We were up two games to one when I went down.”

“So you are a Yankees fan?” He watched Bucky with a wicked grin.

“Would you like to know the outcome of the World Series?”

Bucky's eyes narrowed slightly, a look of annoyance visible on his face. He knew that Hausmann was fishing for information, trying to break him down with small talk and false camaraderie.

“Was Buck Cleven a Yankees fan?”

Bucky’s breathing began to quicken as he grew more angered by the mention of his best friend. How did they know every little detail of his life? Was there anything they didn’t know?

“No? Yes?”

Silence.

“I hear he was quite a flyer.”

Extending his arm across the desk, Hausmann grabbed a newspaper, revealing the newspaper under it with the headline “Eighth air force smashed Bremen.” Bucky recognized it instantly. That was the last mission Buck had went on when he went missing.

“I read of his exploits in the Regensburg attack. He was your friend, wasn’t he?”

The interrogator’s eyes skimmed over the newspaper, and moved back to the pilot who had now had all the little aspects of his life exposed. Grinning strongly on one side of his mouth, Hausmann’s eyes burned into the front of Bucky’s head.

Bucky met Hausmann's gaze, a sense of rage building up against him.

“It seems we’re shooting down all the good pilots.”

Not wanting to hear the interrogator’s comments, Bucky started fiddling with his cigarette.

“Did you know that on your Münster attack, only one of your planes returned?” Hausmann brought about the news with little sympathy in his voice.

He stuck his index finger up, subtly grinning.

“One.”

Bucky was in disbelief. Out of 17 aircrafts and one made it? He only wondered who the sole survivors were. They got lucky. Much luckier than him, at least.

“But back to you, Major Egan.” Scanning the page on his file, Hausmann’s grin quickly faded.

“I regret to inform you that you are, as you say, in a bit of a pickle.”

Bucky knew what he was here for. For news of going back to England or far from Germany would be near impossible. Whatever news he would get would be a punishment nonetheless.

“We know you were originally apprehended near Ostbevern . . .but we don’t have you in any record as a crew member on any of the planes from the Münster attack. The Gestapo would say that makes you a spy.”

“They would be mistaken.” Bucky denied everything. The words coming out of his mouth were nothing but the truth.

“One thing I can tell you, Major, the Gestapo is never mistaken.” Hausmann smirked proudly as Bucky looked him dead in the eyes, no longer wanting to hear him and his good-guy act.

“So, I need verification of your group, your squadron, and your plane so that I can confirm to them that you are indeed what you say you are.”

Bucky took a puff of his cigarette, inhaling deeply.

“John Egan. Major. O-399510.” He repeated the information once more. Hausmann inhaled sharply, his demeanor going from calm and contained all to irritated.

“Major. . . may I say that you’re not doing yourself any favors?”

Once again, silence.

“The Gestapo, they are different than me. Me. I’m like you: A flyer, a man of honor. And I can understand things in a way that perhaps my colleagues from the highly indoctrinated security forces might not.”

Bucky was having none of it.

“I’d like to talk to you about Buck Cleven, John. . . but I’d like you to talk to me as well. The number of replacement B-17s expected at Thorpe Abbotts next week, for example.”

“John Egan. Major. O-399510.” Bucky swallowed thickly as he had refused to give up any information that could be useful to them.

The room fell silent as the interrogator's mask of tranquility slipped away, revealing the cold, calculating man beneath. Hausmann's eyes narrowed as he realized that Bucky was not going to give in, and that no amount of threats or promises could force the information out of him.

“I see.”

• • •

Y/n quickly shot up from the cold bench of her room as officers burst in, shouting in an aggressive manner. An officer grabbed her by the shoulder and pushed her out into the hall, along with many other airmen.

As she walked down the hall, she watched as airmen were thrown out of their rooms, almost hitting the ground as they were shoved out.

Y/n felt someone stumble into her, almost knocking her to the ground. Turning her head, she saw the one face she thought she might never see again. It was Bucky.

Bucky grabbed Y/n’s hand without hesitation, pressing a kiss to her head as they continued to move out.

“Hey, careful- my head still hurts.” Y/n chuckled dryly, bringing her hand to her temple.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, John,” Y/n wrapped her hand around Bucky’s wrist, her eyes glimmering as she looked into his. “It’s gonna be okay-”

She was cut off instantly as officers pushed and shouted at the two, forcing them to move out of the building.

• • •

At the rail yard, men jumped into the train one by one. All of them were kept in a tight formation, an unorganized line of people bumping into one another every second.

Y/n continued to hold onto Bucky’s hand, trying not to get lost among the many men who would be riding with them. The two had to stick together.

As Bucky was pushed up onto the train by an officer, he immediately extended his hand to Y/n, helping her up onto the train, where the floor was covered in filth and was slippery enough for one to fall.

Bucky continued to help the other men onto the train, helping to speed up the process as many had struggled to get on by themselves, many of those individuals being injured.

The officers kept pushing men closer to the train, shouting at their faces in words none of them could understand.

The loud echo of another train across the way caught everyone’s attention. As they all turned their heads, the desperate screams and cries began to fill the air.

Bucky and Y/n watched in horror as the people in the crammed boxcar seemed to be crying for help, all of them reaching their arms out through the slats.

Even as the boxcar passed, none of the men getting on the train could shake the image out of their heads. They had never seen anything like this before.

“In! Now! In! In!” An officer shouted at the remaining men on the ground to keep going. Bucky got back to helping the last of the men who hadn’t gotten on the train.

Just then, one man tried to make a run from the train, but was immediately shot by an officer before he could get far enough away. Many bullets were shot at the man, causing him to die instantly.

Everyone on the train watched in shock as they witnessed the killing of the innocent man, whose life ended within seconds.

The officer continued to shout as if nothing had happened.

As the last of the men were being helped onto the train, one officer started to shout at Bucky and point his finger in his face. Bucky shot the man a dirty look as he knew he had done nothing wrong.

An officer walked towards the train, the dead man who had been shot hanging over his back. He aggressively dropped the man onto the filthy train floor, leaving him with everyone else.

Y/n looked at the dead man on the ground as the officer slid the door of the train shut, leaving the inside of the train dark.

Now they would be going to their destination with a bunch of men and a dead body for god only knew how long.

• • •

The screeching sound of the train brakes filled the air as Bucky and Y/n arrived at their destination, which would most likely be their final.

After hours of being in the train with no light and no fresh air, the door slid open. Bright lights shone in their faces, almost blinding them.

They were immediately welcomed by the aggressive barking of two German shepherds, along with long lines of angry officers, all shouting at them.

One by one, they each jumped out of the train.

Bucky went before Y/n, and she jumped out after him, keeping a close distance to him as they couldn’t hold hands out in the open where their every move could be seen.

• • •

Luftwaffe-Controlled Stalag Luft III,

Sagan, Germany

October 17, 1943

Exhausted and weak, the POWS were reaching their destination. They had walked for hours. To Y/n, it all felt like a fever dream. She couldn’t imagine herself doing this. It was only months ago that she was living a carefree life in the states.

Two officers quickly opened the gates, revealing the many men already there. As they walked through the gates of the camp, the POWs who were already there began to line up against the wired fences to catch a glimpse of the new arrivals.

The camp was surrounded by high wired fences, with guard towers looming over them ominously.

Y/n caught up with Bucky, now standing next to him as they both searched for any familiar faces.

It was instant when Bucky had recognized one of the men.

“Johnny! John! Y/n!”

“Egan! Y/l/n!” They heard their names, but couldn’t see their faces.

“Hey, Johnny! Y/n!”

Y/n and Bucky continued to hear their names being shouted, still not knowing who was calling them. But knowing that someone recognized them left Y/n relieved.

“Bucky! Y/n! Over here!”

Just then, they both caught sight of their old crew members, all shouting and waving at them, full of excitement. Y/n thought they had all disappeared. But she felt better knowing they were all alive, and together.

“Crank!” Bucky shouted, his face lighting up.

“You made it!”

“Murph! Glen!”

Bucky happily shouted the names of his crew members, whom were standing together.

“Hey! Any of you know if Buck made it?” Bucky asked urgently, scanning the faces of his crew, hoping one of them had some information about his friend.

“What?” Crank shouted, unable to hear him.

“I said Buck-”

Before he could ask again, a familiar voice called out to him.

"John Egan! Your two o’clock."

Bucky's heart skipped a beat as he saw Buck standing on the other side of the wire fence. Relief flooded through him as he and Y/n passed by the person that had been presumed missing. He was alive.

“What took you two so long?” Buck grinned from ear to ear.

This had been the one of many times that Y/n saw Bucky smile. She missed seeing that smile so much.

“Welcome to Stalag Luft III, boys,” A man standing behind the fence shouted.

Being led by the officers into the camp, no one could speak to their friends and old crew. Everyone’s smiles faded instantly as the reality of their situation sunk in. They were officially prisoners of war.

#mota #mota fanfic #masters of the air #major john egan #john egan #bucky egan #major john egan x reader #john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader

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avonne-writes · 2 months

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"it’s quite possible they knew about Buck too" The internet tells me Buck was actually detained at dulag luft in Frankfurt at the same time as Bucky and they were just a few cells away, unaware that the other was being detained and interrogated too. I'm pretty sure Haussmann was trying to play one against the other in some way. And Buck had just arrived at stalag luft III when Bucky got there after him, making the reunion line even funnier ("what took you so long?" dude, you just got there!)

on another note i reaaaally wish we'd gotten to see Buck's interrogations scenes. For reasons. Angsty reasons. Callum's acting in his scene is so good, I wish we'd gotten to see the equivalent from Austin, I don't care if it's redundant.

Yes, I agree! And I knew that, it’s so insane, isn’t it, that they were held so close but they had no idea 😭

I think Buck must have said even less than Bucky. I can imagine him just staring down whoever interrogated him. I can clearly picture the steel resolution on his face, even though his cheek scars are still bleeding and there's sadness in his eyes. His fallen angel look. I think even the Germans could sense that he was a morale boost to his friends and they looked up to him, so they probably tried to break him down.

Side note: do we have a fic where we see Buck interrogated?

#mota #gale cleven #john egan

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footprintsinthesxnd · 22 days

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Chapter 11: The Wire

Gale Cleven × Hope Armstrong (ofc)

Series Masterlist

This story is based on on the fictional portrayal of these men from the MOTA to series.

Summary: As the girls realise their fate is sealed for the remainder of the war, Gale makes his last flight of the war.

Collab: A Pair of Silver Wings by @major-mads

October 1, 1943: Sagan, Germany

Two days.

Two days of squalor, of the constant smell of human excrement, of pure hell. They’d stopped a few times to pick up other prisoners, prolonging the journey deeper into Germany. When the train car door finally slid open, its occupants shielded their eyes as the bright morning light shone into the car. Frank, Hope, and Ruth remained in the corner, unable to stand when the harsh commands to do so echoed through the air.

“Up!”

The airmen did their best to follow the order, but their weakened bodies slowed their movements, angering the Germans who began roughly pulling them from the train. Once the dozens of legs surrounding them stepped toward the exit, Hope clambered to her feet, her legs shaking as she helped pull Ruth up. They shared an anxious glance while Frank grabbed their jacket sleeves and led the trio toward the door behind the other POWs.

“Stay close,” he stressed, looking to each of them for confirmation. “We’re not gonna get split up this time, alright?”

It took their eyes a few moments to adjust to the blinding light of the sun they hadn’t seen in a few days as they jumped down from the train, mud squelching beneath their boots. Hope could feel her heart pounding in her chest as her dark eyes scanned their surroundings. Her eyes fell upon the dark pine forest in the distance. She wondered if they always built camps surrounded by forests because it was easier to get lost if you tried to escape. The loud slam of the car door caused her to turn, noticing the hard faced guard standing at the front of their group.

The guard at the front of the group motioned toward the path with a yell. “Walk! Now!”

Ruth’s eyes widened in panic as they started walking. “Do you think they’re gonna kill us?”

“No,” Hope replied quietly, offering her friend a forced smile. She honestly didn’t know what the Krauts had planned for them but she wasn’t about to give Ruth more to worry about. “They wouldn’t transport us this far just to kill us.”

Though Ruth nodded in tentative agreement, Hope’s own doubts lingered, a silent weight pressing down upon her. The uncertainty of their fate was almost unbearable, each step forward carrying them deeper into the unknown.

Where were they going?

How long would they be there?

Would they ever see their loved ones again?

They could feel the filth clinging to their bodies with each step down the path. The mud, sweat, blood, and disgusting muck from the train car coated their clothes. It was far worse than any conditions they had experienced as nurses. The women prayed for a shower or just somewhere they could clean themselves of the grime painting their skin. After almost two weeks, the pain in Ruth’s arm dulled into a throb with every movement, and thankfully, Frank’s ribs were much the same. Hope’s bruises were beginning to fade and the deep gash above her eye had slowly closed. She still hadn’t talked about what happened to her in Dulag Luft. How could she explain it?

The path through the forest stretched on for about a half-mile before they reached the edge of the treeline. As they emerged from the forest, the sight before them stole their breath away. A vast clearing spread before them, dominated by a sprawling complex of buildings, huts, and sheds. The entire area was encircled by a pair of menacing barbed-wire fences, their twisted coils glinting ominously in the sunlight. Along the perimeter, wooden guard towers loomed tall, manned by German soldiers armed to the teeth with rifles, machine guns, and searchlights.

Frank’s jaw clenched as he took in the formidable sight, his mind racing with grim possibilities. “Looks like our new home,” he remarked, his tone laced with bitterness. “Real cosy.

Hope’s hand found Ruth’s, squeezing it tightly as their group approached the large main gate. Hope opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by a loud siren and the gate creaking open. As they walked through the gates and beyond the perimeter of barbed wire, prisoners flocked to the sides of the walkway, scanning the new arrivals for any familiar faces. They wore frayed and mismatched uniforms, many of them hanging loosely on the men’s slender frames. Some were dressed in American uniforms, further down the line were men dressed in British RAF uniforms but they didn’t all speak English. Hope thought she could make out Polish, or maybe Czech. Some called out to friends they recognized, their excited laughter lifting the atmosphere just slightly. Others murmured in disbelief when they caught sight of the women, their expressions filled with shock and pity.

“Can you believe it? Women here…” one muttered from where he leaned against the wire.

“Poor things,” the man beside him replied sadly. “Leave it to the Germans to make women POWs. I wonder what unit they’re with.”

Among the pitied glances were men whose eyes lingered on Hope and Ruth with a disturbing intensity. It was clear that some hadn’t seen women in years, and their unsettling stares sent a chill down the girls’ spines. Frank shot a warning glare at anyone who dared stare too long, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he trailed closely behind them.

“Welcome to Stalag Luft III, ladies! This place is going to eat you alive.”

Hope turned to see who had spoke and her eyes fell on a man ahead of them, his sunken face bearing a smirk. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes and red sores sat along the corners of his lips. Hope had never seen a man in such desperate need of medical care but there wasn’t much she could do for him here, without any supplies. She wondered how long he had been here to end up in such a fate. The thought struck her that maybe this was their fate too.

Was that her future? To end up like him?

Frank’s voice behind them cut through the buzz of the crowd. “Ignore him,” he said, sparing the man a pointed glance. “He’s just a bitter old timer who’s been here too long.”

Hope nodded in agreement, her grip on Ruth’s hand tightening slightly as they continued past the wire, further into the camp. They were led into one of the buildings and lined up before being searched for any items considered contraband. Thankfully, their Luftwaffe searchers were more respectful than the soldiers who found them after the crash, patting them down without allowing their hands to linger.

Once the search was complete, they were fingerprinted and photographed, reminding the trio of their arrival at Dulag Luft. Thinking back on that day, Hope couldn’t help but wonder where Bob Wolff ended up. He was the only piece of home they had… the only tie to the small corner of East Anglia the women held so dearly to their hearts. The thought was pushed from her mind when a neatly folded pile of two thin blankets, a rough mattress cover, and a straw-filled pillow was thrust toward her. Hope’s heart sank at the sight of the pitiful bedding, knowing it would offer little comfort in the cold nights ahead. They were slightly nicer than the ones in Dulag Luft and the girls tried not to think about the infestation of lice they probably harboured.

In line before her, Ruth blinked away the tears filling her eyes as she was given a small package filled with eating utensils and toiletries. She clutched the scratchy towel close to her chest, struggling to hold it all with one hand. At the final stop, a man held out her new “dog tags,” her prisoner of war number stamped into the shiny metal.

Hope stood behind her, taking her own tag next. Her number read 2982. It was a far cry from her serial number, one that she’d been proud to quote. Now she was reduced down to just a number rather than a human being.

Hope joined Ruth against the wall, and Frank soon made his way over to them, and before they knew it, their group of about 30 Americans was led back through the camp to a gate leading into one of the many compounds on site. Hope and Ruth’s eyes scanned the large area, taking in the dozens of men walking around, some returning to their blocks after swarming the wire a few minutes before.

All eyes flew to the gate behind them as it shut, sealing them into the compound for the foreseeable future. It was like a finally deafening bang that saw their future sealed. Hope wasn’t sure what the future held for them, but after the confinement in Dulag Luft she knew that Stalag Luft couldn’t be as bad, she had her friends for a start. They would get through this together. Beside her, Hope could see Ruth beginning to lose her cool. Her shoulders sagged under her ragged breaths and she knew that she’d begin to spiral if she didn’t step in.

Hope passed her things to Frank, giving him a knowing look to which a sympathetic smile spread over his lips. She reached out to grab her shoulders, reassuringly squeezing them. “Rue, it’s okay,” she said softly, her voice steady and calming. “We’re gonna be alright.”

Frank stepped closer to them. “Take deep breaths, Ruth. In…and out.”

Hope saw Ruth tightening against the growing panic attack. They had been a common occurrence when she’d first joined them as a new nurse. Hope had feared at one point that she might not make it as a flight nurse. After a few moments, her breathing evened out and the panic passed. Frank and Hope sent each other a relieved glance, thankful the anxiety strike didn’t progress into a full-fledged attack. It wasn’t the first panic Ruth had around the pair, and Hope was surprised she hadn’t had one since they went down. In her eyes, it was long overdue.

“Welcome to the lovely South Compound,” a commanding voice called out to the group. “I’m Colonel Goodrich, and I’ll be your Commanding Officer during your stay here.”

Goodrich was a tall man with dark, curly hair. He stood tall, his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke. The colonel’s sharp gaze swept over the faces of the men before him, assessing their conditions. But it was when his eyes landed on Ruth and Hope that his expression shifted, a flicker of surprise and concern crossing his features. He hesitated momentarily before gesturing to the shorter man beside him.

“This is Major Dodson. He’s going to assign you to blocks.”

Dodson stepped forward and began to lead the group toward the dozens of buildings across the clearing. The trio started to follow but froze when Goodrich’s voice filled the air.

“You three. Hold on a moment.”

The rest of the group murmured among themselves as they followed Dodson to get their bunking assignments, leaving Hope, Frank, and Ruth standing alone before the Colonel. He approached them with his hands in his pockets, his demeanor serious but not unkind.

“I apologize for singling you out, but we’ve never had women here. I thought maybe it was one thing the Germans wouldn’t do, but here we are…Do you need medical attention?”

Hope exchanged a quick glance with Ruth and Frank before replying, “No, sir. We’re alright, just a bit banged up from the crash.”

Colonel Goodrich nodded, his gaze lingering on the blood and cuts marring Ruth’s face and the grimy appearance of all three of them. “I see. What outfit are you with?”

“806th MAETS,” Frank replied.

“Ahh, so you’re flight nurses, I’m guessing.”

Hope stuck out her hand. “Yes, sir. First Lieutenant Hope Armstrong,” she gestured to herself. “This is my counterpart Second Lieutenant Ruth Morgan, and our pilot Captain Frank Martin.”

Goodrich shook each of their hands and offered the women a kind smile. “I hate you two are stuck here, but I’ll do what I can to help you out. I imagine you’d all like to clean up a bit. Major Dodson can arrange private showers for you, Lieutenants. It’s cold and might not be the Ritz, but it’s better than nothing.”

The thought of showers, of getting clean perked Ruth up, and she nodded once at the man. “Thank you, sir.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Goodrich glanced at his watch before taking a breath and walking away, motioning for them to follow. “I’ll take you to your assigned block. This compound has only been open a few weeks, so there’s a lot of empty rooms.“

The air inside the block was musty, but it felt like a sanctuary compared to the chaos and constant vigilance they’d endured the past few weeks. The Colonel stopped before a door and turned to face them.

“This building is relatively quiet,” he explained, looking down the long hallway at the few men entering their room further down. “You’ll have this room to yourselves. It’ll give you a little bit of privacy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Colonel Goodrich nodded, and Hope could tell he wished he could do more for them, but this was the best he could do. ”Dodson will be back soon to take you to the showers. Don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything.”

With that, he turned and left them standing in front of the door to their room, staring at the wood blankly. Frank took a deep breath and opened the door. The space was dimly lit by a small window, casting long shadows across the room. Triple-decker bunk beds lined the walls, each one with a thin straw mattress that looked as disgusting as the ones in their Dulag Luft cells. A single table stood in the middle of the room.

“Well, I guess this is it,” Frank remarked, dropping his handful of things to the table with a thud.

Hope nodded in agreement, her gaze lingering on the bunk beds. “At least we have a place to rest.”

Ruth was the first to choose a bunk, opting for the lower bunk farthest from the door, and Hope chose the one beside her. Frank decided on the bunk above Hope. It reminded Hope a little of being back home with Hugh. As young children he’d had the top bunk and would often ‘accidentally’ drop things on her in the night. Her heart ached for her brother. He always knew what to do and always knew how to make light of a situation. She could use a hug from her big brother right now, and Gale… she tried not to think of Gale as she set about making her bed before sinking down onto the stiff mattress. She could see the exhaustion clearly on Ruth’s face and she pitied the young teacher. She was sure this wasn’t what Ruth had envisioned when she’d joined up to help.

“That man,” she whispered, blinking away tears that stung her eyes, “The one at the gate…”

“What about him?” Hope could see the tears slipping slowly down Ruth’s cheeks.

“His eyes…they looked so hollow, so hopeless. I-I don’t want to end up like that.”

Hope sat on the edge of Ruth’s bed, placing a hand on her arm. “Hey, you won’t. You’ve got me. And you’ve got Frank. We’re not going anywhere.”

As Hope stared into her friend’s glistening eyes, she hoped the woman couldn’t see through her. That she couldn’t see the terror that possessed her every thought, every moment, every dream since the door of her cell slammed shut at Dulag Luft. It was no secret that they were at the mercy of their captors who could do anything they wanted, and Hope feared it was only a matter of time until the Germans took advantage of it.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the hall, through the thin walls, and Hope’s heart skipped a beat. She could see it now: a German shoving open the door, dragging her and Ruth out by their hair to do unspeakable things to them. But when three quiet knocks filled the air, she furrowed her brows.

Germans wouldn’t knock.

The women watched with bated breath as Frank slowly approached the door, shooting them a warning glance that seemed to say, ‘get ready.’ Before he opened it, the visitor spoke on the other side, their voice muffled through the wood.

“It’s Major Dodson. I’ve arranged some showers for y’all.”

Hope let out a soft exhale, the tension in her shoulders easing as Frank shook his head and opened the door. Quickly blinking her eyes, Ruth tried to clear any sign of tears from her face before he could see. Dodson stepped inside, smiling kindly at the two women sitting on the bed. If he noticed the blonde’s red-rimmed eyes, he didn’t comment on it.

“Nice to meet you, Lieutenants.” He nodded at them, then turned to Frank. “And you, Captain.”

“Yes, sir.”

Dodson held out a bundle of clothing to him. “Here are some fresh clothes. I found the smallest ones possible for you two, but-”

“Thank you,” Hope interrupted. “I’m sure they’re fine, sir.”

“Grab your stuff and follow me. I reckon y’all are chomping at the bit to get clean. I know I was when I arrived.”

His accent held a slight southern twang, and Hope raised an eyebrow at Ruth, who instantly noticed and perked up, feeling a little bit at home. They each gathered their basic shower pack and towel quickly, following the Major out of the building.

Hope could feel Frank’s large hand pressing against the small of her back, a comforting reminder of his presence and an action he had done so many times before.

She smiled up at him, and he returned to sentiment. It occurred to Hope that in another life she may have ended up with Frank, they’d spent so much time together in such close proximity that something would have probably happened if it hadn’t been for their unwavering friendship.

“You alright?” He cocked an eyebrow at her and she just shook her head.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Hope?” Frank stopped her for a moment, brushing the lose strands of her dark hair away from the large gash on her forehead. His thumb knocked the wound and she winced, moving to follow after the Major. Frank caught up with her in a few strides, his arm coming around her and pulling her into his side.

“I’m not ever letting you out of my sight again, Hope. Not ever.”

It was a promise that she knew he might not be able to keep. Frank meant well but if the Krauts wanted her then they would have her, and there was nothing Frank would be able to do.

Dodson directed them around the corner of a block to a much smaller concrete building, resembling the shower building at Dulag Luft. The krauts sure weren’t original with their POW camp architecture, that was for sure. As they reached the door, the Major spun to face them.

“There are no curtains, so-”

“You two go first,” Frank interrupted, nodding at Hope and Ruth.

“Alright. There’s only one entrance, so Captain Martin and I will stand guard while you two are showerin’. Sound alright?”

Hope and Ruth held each other’s gaze for a moment before thanking him and stepping inside. The room was dark and damp with a row of sinks on one side and a few showerheads on the other. A couple of benches lined the middle, and they set down their packs and towels, exchanging another brief glance before turning their backs to each other before starting to undress.

Hope peeled away her B-3 jacket that clung to her body. She hadn’t removed it since the crash and the leather was now worn and looking far less presentable. Next camp her overalls, peeling the olive drab, blood-stained cloth from her body. The feeling of the cool air hitting her exposed skin caused goosebumps to raise upon her skin. She shivered, her teeth chattering.

“I can’t wait to get this thing off,” Ruth groaned, casting a longing glance at her arm, the splint’s once pristine bandages now a disgusting brown. “I can’t wait to get this thing off. I can’t even shower cause it’ll get wet.”

“How’s it feeling?” Hope asked sympathetically from behind her. She knew how annoying a splint could be. She’d broken her arm when she was climbing trees with Hugh as a child and the whole ordeal still haunted her.

“It still hurts, but it’s better than before.”

“And how long has it been since you got the splint?”

“Barely a week,” she sighed. “The nurse said 6-8 weeks.”

Hope paused, thinking it over for a moment. “I’d have to agree with her. Five more weeks, Rue.”

“Great.”

Silence again filled the small room and Hope gathered up her dirty clothes, piling them at the end of the bench. She pulled the contents from her overall pocket. She didn’t unfold the pictures, she didn’t dare. She wasn’t sure whether she’d ever be able to face Gale’s smiling face. How could such a happy memory live on in a place like this?

She moved quickly to the shower as Ruth finished undressing. She pulled the lever and allowed the frigid water to run down her exposed body. She gasped, closing her eyes as she stepped beneath the shower. Her head turned down as the water covered her body. The water around her feet grew dark, a mixture of mud and blood that had caked her body disappeared into the drain.

She rubbed the rough, tan cloth over her pale flesh, trying to ignore the purple, green and yellow tinted bruises that covered her body. The water stung at the scraps and cuts across her arms but she ignored it. The worst pain was her fingers, the sore blunt ends of her nails from where she had clawed at her cell door. They had scabbed over but now weeped once more.

She hated to think what she looked like. Her eyeliner had long since worn away and she’d always thought she looked pale and ill without a little bit of blush to give her some colour. Although her appearance was definitely the last of her problems at the current time.

She rubbed the cloth over her thigh, following the line of the deep, purple scar. It hadn’t healed well, the flesh remained raised and prominent. It was something that always made her doubt herself, her abilities, yet it was something that Gale assured her made her ever more beautiful. She was a fighter, she didn’t give up easily and it showed the sacrifice she had made to help others.

Silent, salty tears made their track down her cheeks at the thought of him. He was so far away now. So far from her.

She thought back to her shower at Thorpe Abbott, when Gale’s warm arms had supported her as she washed away her blood. His hands never once roaming too far but his fingers had trailed up her sides, rubbing comforting circles on her exposed flesh. The way his plump lips had pressed against her shoulders, his teeth grazing the smooth flesh. He had loved her so much, and she had loved him. She still loved him. It was one of her favourite memories, for that was all it was now.

She turned off the shower, shaking the memory that had so vividly haunted her. Gale’s memory didn’t deserve to be bought to such a place as this.

The final dregs of water stopped dripping, leaving the bath house deathly silent. Hope shuffled over to the pile of clothes that she’d left on the bench. She rubbed the rough sacking that substituted as a towel over her body, ignoring the way it sandpapered her skin. She longed for her scented soap that Hugh had bought for her birthday. Now she smelt of hay and a faint smell of sweat, still an improvement of how bad she had smelt prior to her shower.

Ruth was still deep in thought, bent over the sink. Hope didn’t utter a word, instead pulling on the ‘fresh’ clothes that Major Dodson had bought them. They hung on her small frame but she pulled the clothes on regardless, tucking the shirt into the oversized trousers and buttoning up the jacket.

She began racking her fingers through her dark, tangled locks, pulling at the strands and wincing as small clumps of hair pulled out between her fingers. She wrapped up the wet hair, pulling it into a bun and replacing the pins she had in her overall pocket. Her hand came to rest on the dog tags around her neck, the new and her old tags. Her index finger ran over the familiar engagement ring. She’d kept it tucked down in her overalls in Dulag Luft, she couldn’t bear to have it taken from her again.

She picked up the pictures next, placing them carefully in the top pocket of her new jacket. She still couldn’t bare to look at them, maybe tonight when she was on her own but not now.

Drawing in a sharp breath, she turned to see Ruth pulling on her own clothes. Her blonde hair was a tangled, wet mess and Hope sympathised as she watched her friend trying to pull it out of her way with one hand.

“I’ll plait it for you later if you’d like.”

Ruth had still been deep in thought and she looked a little startled but nodded in agreement. “Please.”

The girls finished in the bath house and joined Frank and Major Dodson outside.

“I’ll lead you back to your bunkhouse,” Dodson suggested and Frank nodded in agreement. “I’d like to think the men here are better than the Krauts, but some of them have been here so long that…” he trailed off.

“Thank you, Dodson,” Frank added, “I’ll have a quick wash up and I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Don’t rush, Frank. Ruth and I are just going to settle in,” Hope confirmed, linking her arm through Ruth’s, their eyes meeting for a brief moment.

Dodson had long strides and the girls struggled to keep up with him as he marched back across the camp to their bunkhouse. Hope and Ruth slipped in the mud and clung onto each other, the last thing they wanted was to end up covered in mud again.

Dodson opened the door to the wooden house for them and led them inside once more. “Do you girls need anything? Anything at all?”

Ruth flopped down onto her bunk with a sigh and Hope shook her head, “No, I think we’re good thank you, Major. I think we just need some sleep.”

The Major nodded, sending Hope a soft smile before he closed the door gently behind him. Now they were alone, Hope moved to sit next to Ruth. She began to run her fingers through Ruth’s damp locks, causing her friend to emit a long, satisfied groan.

“Sit up, Rue, I’ll plait your hair.”

The blonde obliged, sitting up as best she could without hitting her head on the low bed above her. As Hope moved her fingers through her hair Ruth sighed once more, finally feeling a little more relaxed. She’d been so uptight since they had crashed that she’d barely taken a moment to breathe.

Hope stayed silent behind her and Ruth turned to look at her friend, noticing the few tears that had slipped down her cheeks.

“Oh Hope, what’s wrong?”

Hope shook her head firmly, wiping the tears away quickly, “I’m fine, I promise, Rue.”

Ruth knew better than to believe her stoic friend but she knew pressing her on the subject would only cause Hope to close up further.

“Dodson seems nice,” she changed the subject, hoping she may be able to distract Hope from whatever was plaguing her.

She hummed in agreement but continued to run her fingers through Ruth’s hair. Grabbing the thin comb from her shower pack, Hope did her best to detangle the mess of blonde before her.She didn’t really feel like talking. The events of the past few weeks had finally caught up with her and she felt as though she might burst with the pent up emotions.

“I wonder what the guys are doing now?” Ruth replied absentmindedly as she tugged at a loose thread on her bedding. “What do you think they’re doing?”

Hope thought for a moment, trying to imagine the boys back at Thorpe Abbott. She honestly wasn’t sure what they would be doing but she knew Ruth was trying her best to make conversation.

“Hugh’s probably annoying John in some way and Gale’s probably trying to keep the peace.”

Ruth chuckled as she imagined Hugh bickering with John like two spoiled children. She could see Gale now, running his hand through his blond locks with an exasperated sigh.

“Poor Gale,” Ruth chuckled, “At least he’ll be good at breaking up fights if you guys have kids.” She was trying to be positive, to think of the future but from the look on Hope’s face she knew her friend was struggling.

Pulling her head away from Hope’s hands she pulled her into a tight hug, squishing her face into Hope’s neck. She could feel Hope relaxing a little beneath her touch.

Hope couldn’t help but relax as Ruth’s body collided with her own. It was one of the few things that still made her smile. She wasn’t sure what the coming weeks and months would hold for them, but at least they had each other.

October 8th, Thorpe Abbott AAF base, 06:00

It was mission day. They all knew it, even before the light went on and they were woken up early in the morning.

Gale and Hugh had been up for hours, sipping coffee atop ‘Our Baby’s’ wing as they watched the sun begin to slowly creep up from behind the trees, embracing the base in the warm glow.

John was in London on the trip he had planned with Ruth. He’d asked Gale to accompany him, but understood when Gale declined. He didn’t feel like spending his days leave trying to keep a drunk, grieving John under control while he still had so much of his own grief to deal with. Instead he stayed with Hugh and the pair leaned on each other for support.

“Gale?” Hugh asked, his dark eyes searching Gale’s face while the other man continued to stare blankly across the handstand. “Gale, there’s something I want you to have.”

Gale watched as Hugh rummaged in his A-2 jacket pocket, fumbling and pulling out a pack of cigarettes and several crumpled pieces of paper. He smoothed out one of the sheets before folding it in half and pressing it into Gale’s outstretched hand.

Gale looked up at Hugh questioningly, not daring to open the paper.

“I think this is the one,” Hugh sighed sadly, “This is the one that will get me.”

��You don’t know that,” Gale argued, shuffling closer to Hugh, and wrapping his arm around the pilot's shoulder. “You can’t say that.”

“Hope asked me to keep those safe,” he motioned to the paper in Gale’s hand. “But seeing as I don’t know what’s going to happen I thought you should have it.”

“What is it?” Gale asked, his throat tight and he couldn’t bring himself to open the paper.

“It’s her wedding vows, she never liked being original so she wrote her own. She told me not to read them but I couldn’t help myself,” Hugh took a shaky breath before squeezing Gale’s hand and standing up on the wing. “She really did love you Gale.”

Gale watched as Hugh climbed down from the wing, making his way back across the handstand. Staring down at the paper in his hand, Gale couldn’t find the strength in him to open it. He pushed it into his pocket, alongside Hope’s picture and letter. He’d read it later once Bremen had been a success.

Hugh found his eyes finding Gale’s across the handstand, sharing a single nod before Hugh moved to climb up into the cockpit. His co-pilot sent him a sympathetic smile and Hugh tried to ignore the talk amongst his crew. Some didn’t think he was fit to fly after losing Hope, but he wasn’t going to go down without a fight. It was a conversation he’d shared with Harry and Rosie that had given him the courage to climb back into the cockpit.

“You’re sister was an amazing woman, Hugh,” Harry spoke up, staring sadly into his beer. “She was a damn good nurse and I considered her one of my best friends.”

Harry’s dark eyes were tearful as he looked over at Hugh, swallowing hard.

“I didn’t really get a chance to know her very well,” Rosie added, his moustache turning down in a sad frown. “But from everything I’ve heard I’m sure I would have liked her very much.”

“You would,” Hugh interrupted, licking his lips as he inhaled shakily, “She was my better half. She saved my ass more times than I can remember…” He trailed off, unable to find the right words in the bustling pub to describe how much his sister meant to him.

Harry, sensing the tension in his friend, shuffled his chair around the table so he was beside Hugh and Rosie.

“To Hope! May she always live on through us.” He raised his glass in the air and Hugh and Rosie followed suit.

“To Hope.”

Hugh smiled, started his preflight checks with the photograph of Hope and himself at Dye’s party stuck to the control panel.

“This one’s for you, Hope.”

Gale didn’t know whether to take this as a coincidence or an omen, but this wasn’t how he planned to start the Bremen mission. One of the magnetos wasn’t working and despite Gale’s never-ending faith in Ken Lemmons, he couldn’t help but feel like maybe this was happening for a reason.

“What are you trying to tell me, Hope?” He mumbled to himself, glancing out the window to catch a glance of Lemmons from his spot on the wheel.

Demarco was comparing from his seat, soothing about pulling the plane over but Gale shook his head, remaining positive and grinning at Demarco

“Believe, Benny. Believe.”

Gale’s bright eyes fell into the control panel, smiling at the three pictures he’d placed lovingly along it. Hope and himself at Dye’s party, Hope and Meatball and Hope, Hugh and himself on one of the girls' visits to Thorpe Abbotts. His heart ached and he drew his hand to his chest, fumbling his dog tags at feeling instant relief as his index finger ran over the familiar gold bands, relishing in the comforting, smoothness of the ring. It was something he’d found himself doing more and more often, running his fingers around in a spherical motion, repeating, repeating, repeating until his heart rate slowed and his chest no longer felt so tight. He knew that wherever Hope was she would be looking out for him.

“Hey Buck, you with me?” Demarco chuckled, grinning at Gale who merely looked at him, dazed. “Lemmons has only gone and done it. We’re up.”

Gale nodded, re-engaging with the present and preparing the Fort for lift-off. He’d never felt more sure of a mission before, but he knew this one was going to be big and despite the nervous feeling bubbling inside him as the plane left the tarmac he knew he’d be alright because Hope would be with him.

Tags: @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @blurredcolour @artlover8992 @b00ks1ut @xxluckystrike @hockeyboysarehot @groovin2beats @kmc1989 @ginabaker1666 @hesbuckcompton-baby @beebeechaos @forsythiagalt @prettyinlimegreenboots

#on a wing and a prayer #masters of the air #hbo war #gale cleven #john egan #hope armstrong #ruth morgan #mota #masters of the air oc

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clevervonskelli · 4 months

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We're gonna forgive the fact that in reality Buck's flight jacket and crush hat were most likely confiscated at the Dulag Luft before entering Stalag III because he looked DAMN FINE wearing them as he appeared at the fence!

#'cuse me make way gotta emerge out of the crowd alive and well(ish) and hot af when my boy arrives #gale 'buck' cleven #john 'bucky' egan #spoilers #mota #MotA: Ep 6 #austin butler #masters of the air

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love-studying58 · 6 months

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Breakdown of Masters of the Air trailer Part 2

A continuation from my last post.

Lt. Curtis Biddick was a pilot in the 418th Bomb Squadron and flew many of the 100th Bomb Group’s earliest combat missions. One scene we see during the trailer is again situated with the Regensburg mission.

As seen above, he crashes his plane in thick forested area when he ends up getting shot down by german offences. The fuselage ends up damaged in addition to a fire which sets out in the oxygen store department. We know he lands in a forested area because of Murphy’s description of “Biddick’s body being found months later hanging in his chute harness from a tree branch.”

This unfortunate event as depicted in Luck of the Draw further explains what happens. Barry Keoghan is a talented actor, and I’m very excited to see his portrayal as Lt. Biddick.

Biddick’s crew members, Richard Snyder, Lawrence Godbey, and Robert Dekay were all killed in action on that day.

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As for the briefing scenes, we can see a few familiar faces. This seems to be happening prior to the Regensburg mission. What I found interesting was most crewmen seem to be sitting beside each other/together depending on whether they are to be flying with one another in the same plane.

Curtis Biddick and Richard Snyder are seen below.

Same with Sam Barr. Harry Crosby, is found to be in the back. The above scenes seem to be separate from a totally different mission, as shown below:

I originally saw a post by @kylaym and @mastersoftheair, which I want to give credit to for helping myself as well as others figure out who’s who. I didn’t go into as much detail as them, so if you’re interested further, please go to their pages 🤍

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Throughout the trailer, we see many scenes which show the brutality of the Prisoner of War [POW] life for air crewmen who were shot down over enemy territory. John Egan and Gale Cleven were a few notable figures, not to mention Frank Murphy, who wrote about his experiences.

This scene seems to depict the train which brought prisoners to Stalag Luft lll.

This scene is either the overnight train ride which came from Dulag Luft in Frankfurt or a scene of the train which brought John Egan and other prisoners who were in the same boxcar as him to the South Compound of Stalag Luft lll. The book, Stalag Luft lll: An Official History of the ‘Great Escape’ POW Camp is a great account of the history of the camp. If you’re more interested in how the camp came to be, which prisoners were famously found to escape, or how the German administration/running of the camp was organized, I highly highly recommend.

Murphy describes Egan’s arrival to Stalag Luft lll as follows:

Egan’s face seems to be pretty cut up in the above scene and his right inner eye has a broken blood vessel (if you look closely). I wonder if Masters of the Air will show Egan’s capture after he gets shot down during the Münster raid.

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Finally, I want to talk about the Liberation of Moosburg’s Stalag’s VllA, which I believe is also shown in both trailers.

Miller’s book depicts John Egan running for cover when eruption happens in the camp.

Notice above, John has an American Flag. Most prisoners hid flags around the camp in case liberation ever happened. Below, there is a page from Miller's book which talks about the American Flag on the camp flagpole. I believe the trailer depicts Egan running the American Flag up the pole.

I believe this is another scene (above) of the liberation from Soviet forces. Most prisoners had to walk long miles; most with German guards flanking the prisoners, and luckily, one of these attacks happened at night. I'm not sure if Gale Cleven is in this scene with John. Egan had to stay at Stalag for a time after Cleven's escape. This is shown more in the Masters of the Air book.

Please let me know if you want to see more scene descriptions from the liberation parts of the trailer. I will try my best.

I hope you enjoyed Part 2. Let me know if you have any questions. I am currently making a post for Part 3. If you have suggestions, give me a shout.

#hbo war #masters of the air #austin butler major gale buck cleven #austin butler masters of the air #callum turner #john egan

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historydailyfrancischappellblack · 10 months

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Six American Airmen Were Murdered by the Townspeople of Russelsheim, Germany, During World War II. August 26, 1944.

Image: Five Germans were condemned to death for the killing of six American flyers, who were seized from their German military captors. Joseph Harzgen is led to execution by hanging at Bruchsal, Germany. (Wikimedia Commons.)

On this day in history, six American airmen were murdered by the townspeople of Russelsheim, Germany, during World War II. The war crime happened two days after nine USAAF crew members of a B-24 Liberator were shot down over Hanover. They parachuted to the ground and were captured and held by German Luftwaffe personnel. Unable to transfer the downed airmen to a POW facility due to the train tracks being heavily damaged by RAF bombing the night before, the crew was forced to march through the already devastated town of Russelsheim to catch another train. The townspeople, already angered by the previous night's raid, started attacking the unarmed airmen with rocks, hammers, sticks, and shovels, resulting in six airmen dying.

History Daily: 365 Fascinating Happenings Volume 1 & Volume 2 - August 26, 1944

During World War II, the RAF bombed Russelsheim, an industrial town that housed many vital targets, including the Opel plant. The RAF carried out a policy of "area bombing" of cities at night, while the USAAF relied on "precision bombing" by day. On August 24, 1944, an American B-24 bomber named Wham! Bam! Thank you, Ma’am was shot down while taking part in an attack over Hanover, and the crew parachuted down near Hutterup. The airfield's local fire brigade and military detachment were alerted and dispatched to find the downed airmen. One of the nine airmen had serious flak injuries to his abdomen. After landing on a farm, the airman found was given medical assistance by an elderly couple, and in return, the airman gave the couple his silk parachute as a gift. Within a few hours, most of the crew had been captured and taken to an interrogation room in the town hall in Greven. After that, most crewmembers were taken to an airbase near the town, where they slept for the night. The injured crewman was taken to a medical clinic where his wounds were looked after and then shipped to a hospital in Munster to undergo an operation. The following day, the rest of the airmen were loaded on a train for a trip south to the Dulag Luft in Oberursel, north of Frankfurt. After German civilians noticed the Americans on the train at every stop, crowds would form at the windows, yelling angrily at the "terror fliers" and shaking their fists while spitting on the windows. On the evening of August 25, the RAF sent 116 Lancaster bombers to Russelsheim to attack the Opel plant, dropping 674 2,000-lb bombs and more than 400,000 incendiaries on the city, destroying the plant and damaging the rail tracks.

On the morning of August 26, most crewmembers were still proceeding to their original destination. However, the RAF heavily damaged the train line from the previous night's bombing, so the airmen were forced off the train and made to walk to Russelsheim to catch another train. Two German soldiers escorted them. As the crew marched towards the devastated town of Russelsheim, the townspeople, assuming that the fliers were Canadians from the previous night bombing raid, quickly formed and immediately became an unruly, angry mob. Two women shouted out, “There are the terror flyers. Tear them to pieces! Beat them to death! They have destroyed our houses!" One of the crewmembers replied in German, "It wasn't us! We didn't bomb Russelsheim!"

Nevertheless, one woman hurled a brick at the crew, precipitating a riot during which the townsfolk attacked the crew with rocks, hammers, sticks, and shovels. Three Opel workers arrived with iron bars and started beating the men to death to the cries of the crowd. The mob was joined by a German air raid warden, Joseph Hartgen, armed with a pistol. He would prove to be the crew’s worst nightmare. The German soldiers who guarded the airmen made no attempts to prevent the beatings; Hartgen lined them up and shot six in the head, then ran out of ammunition, leaving two of the airmen, William Adams and Sidney Brown, alive. The mob then put the airmen on a cart and took them to the cemetery. Those who moaned were beaten further. An air raid siren went off during the attack, and the mob ran for cover. The two surviving crewmembers managed to crawl from the bloody cart, fled toward the Rhine, and avoided capture for four days. However, they were found by a policeman and brought to their original destination, the camp in Oberursel, where they remained until the war's end.

After the war in Europe ended in 1945 when Russelsheim came under occupation by the American Army, the killings came to light, and the bodies were located on June 28, 1945. In the first war trials in Germany before the Nuremberg trials, eleven residents of Russelsheim, including Joseph Hartgen, were put on trial in late July 1945 in Darmstadt, a town devastated by a British night attack the previous September that had killed 8,500 residents and left 70,000 homeless. The defense argued that they had been incited to commit the crimes by Joseph Goebbels's propaganda, which encouraged the German people to take reprisals against the downed Allied pilots, and that they were not guilty of their actions. Lt. Colonel Leon Jaworski, who would achieve national fame three decades later as the special prosecutor in the Watergate scandal, argued that the townsfolk were responsible for their actions.

The trial lasted six days. The court heard eyewitness testimony to the cold-blooded assassinations and chilling accounts of the bludgeoning and shooting of the airmen. On August 2, Joseph Hartgen and six other townspeople were found guilty and sentenced to death. The remainder of the defendants were given varying prison terms, while the Commission acquitted one. The judge, however, commuted two of the death penalties to 30 years in prison. On November 10, 1945, Hartgen and four others were hanged at the prison in Bruchsal. A sixth, a German soldier, was convicted and executed in 1946.

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History Daily: 365 Fascinating Happenings Volume 1: January – June: Chappell Black, Francis: 9780991855865: Amazon.com: Books

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History Daily: 365 Fascinating Happenings Volume 1: January – June: Chappell Black, Francis: 9780991855865: Books – Amazon.ca

History Daily: 365 Fascinating Happenings Volume 2: July - December: Chappell Black, Francis: 9780991855896: Books - Amazon.ca

#history daily #1940s #Russelsheim Massacre #military history #world war 2

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Chapter 9: The Anatomy of Courage

John "Bucky" Egan x Ruth Morgan (OFC)

Series Masterlist

A/N: this chapter has been in the works for a while, and a lot of research has gone into it! the scenes in Dulag Luft were heavily inspired by Frank Murphy's account of his experience there in his book, Luck of the Draw!! As always, thanks for being patient, and let us know what you think in the comments or our ask boxes!!💕

Collab: On a Wing and a Prayer by @footprintsinthesxnd

Word Count: 10k

September 20th: 07:20 AM

The roar of ME-109s and flack bursts echoed inside the Angel, producing a deafening cacophony of machine-gun fire and metal tearing into the C-47.

“There goes the last engine. We’re going down! We gotta bail out, girls. Grab your chutes now!” Frank yelled, the veins in the pilot’s arms bulging as he fought to keep the plane level. Hope remained frozen, staring at Billy’s lifeless body…he was only 21 years old.

“Hope?” Frank called out. “Hope, look at me! You’ve gotta go, get yourself and Ruth out, I’ll keep the old girl steady until you're both out, then I’ll be right behind ya.”

Hope shook her head, tears building in her eyes, “No! We’re in this together! I’m not leaving you, not now. Not after everything!”

“For Pete’s sake, Hope! Will you do as you’re told for once and stop being so damn stubborn!” Frank snapped with his eyes still trained ahead, and Hope noticed how the veins on his temples pulsed angrily, and his face grew redder by the second. “Now, please just go, I’ll be behind you, I promise!”

“Okay,” Hope nodded solemnly, climbing from the copilot's seat and hurrying towards Ruth, who was already shakily trying to put on her parachute. Hope helped her do up the straps and buckles before she did the same with Hope.

“I can't do this. I only jumped once in training. I-I can’t jump out of a plane. I’m a teacher, not a paratrooper. I-I…” Ruth continued to ramble, her panic-stricken features breaking Hope’s heart, and her tears began to trickle down her cheeks. Hope grasped hold of Ruth’s shoulders, pulling her shaking frame against her chest.

“It’s going to be okay. We’re gonna be just fine, but we’ve got to do this. We can’t stay here, Rue. I need you to be strong for me now, okay? I need you to be strong for both of us,” Hope tried to encourage the girl towards the door but she froze, riveted to the plane.

“But Hope, we’re over Germany. The-the Kraut’s will get us and then… then I don’t know what they’ll do to us.” Ruth’s bottom lip began to tremble, her breath coming out in short, sharp gasps.

Hope nodded solemnly, “I know we are, Rue, but this is our only option. I promise you that I will be with you every step of the way, no matter what, okay?” Hope squeezed Ruth’s hand and she returned the sentiment, allowing Hope to lead her towards the door.

Both girls hooked up to the static line, checking their equipment quickly. “Are you ready?”

Ruth nodded, swallowing the bile that threatened to creep up her throat as the plane shook violently beneath them.

“See you on the other side, Rue.”

“See you in a minute,” Ruth threw her arms around her friend, squeezing her tightly before stepping into the door, pausing for a moment before throwing herself out into the clouds.

As she fell through the air, her heart pounded against her chest with a ferocity that matched the roar of the wind rushing past her ears. Ruth’s static line unhooked, and just as her chute billowed into the sky, the roaring of a fighter and the sound of machine-gun fire filled her senses. She gasped as the rounds went directly around her, missing her body by just a few feet. Her chute, however, wasn’t as lucky. The white silk was littered with holes, and her descent accelerated rapidly, bringing her plummeting toward a nearby group of trees.

Ruth frantically tried to steer away from the forest, but the damaged chute was unresponsive. “No, no, no,” she cried, bracing for impact.

The treeline rushed up to meet her, and with a jolt, Ruth crashed into the dense canopy of trees, her chute becoming entangled in the branches. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through her body, and she cried out as she tumbled through the branches, her arms flailing desperately to break her fall. Twigs snapped, leaves rustled, and she felt the sharp sting of cuts and scrapes as she collided with the unforgiving branches.

Finally, The parachute ripped free with a sharp snap, and Ruth plummeted to the forest floor below. She landed hard with a thud, her left arm bearing the brunt of the impact, causing an excruciating jolt of pain to shoot through her, knocking the breath from her lungs. She gasped for air and clutched her injured arm, tears trickling down her cheeks as she struggled to push past the overwhelming pain. Every nerve in her body screamed at her as she lay sprawled amidst the tangled undergrowth.

Panic gripped the woman like a vice as she realized the gravity of her situation. She was alone, injured, and in German territory.

Where was Hope? Frank?

Did they make it?

Thoughts raced through her mind, each one more terrifying than the last.

What if I never find Hope or Frank?

What if I’m captured by the Germans?

What if I never make it home?

What if I never see John again?

Ruth’s struggled to push back the rising tide of panic threatening to consume her. She thought back on Johnny’s calming words the day they’d first been hit by flack…

“I need you to breathe.”

Taking a deep breath through his nose, he nodded at her with raised brows, worry etching his face. “With me, now.”

Ruth shook her head. “I-I can’t-”

“Yes, you can,” the Major asserted firmly, reaching for her hand and holding it against his chest. “Feel that? Breathe with me. In…” he breathed through his nose. “And out…”

Taking slow, shallow breaths through her nose, she fought to regain control of her racing heart. She exhaled shakily and rolled onto her back, her gaze falling on the tangled mess of her parachute a few feet away. The once bright silk was littered with holes and large tears in the fabric.

“Okay,” she whispered to herself. “You can do this. You can do this.”

She sat up, gritting her teeth and scooting over to lean against a nearby tree, the rough bark pressing into her back. With a heavy sigh, she glanced down at the straps and clips of her harness still clinging to her body.

Her fingers trembled as she reached her right hand for the first clip across her chest, her injured arm protesting with each minuscule shift. Ruth managed to release the clip and moved her attention to the one connecting her leg straps. The right one came free easily, but she couldn’t quite reach the left clip over her bulky equipment.

“Come on, come on,” Ruth muttered under her breath as she struggled to reach the clip. Her small fingers brushed against the cool metal, but wasn’t enough to get it loose. She leaned her head against the tree and took a deep breath.

“Please.”

With one last effort, Ruth shifted and reached across her body for the latch. She felt the metal beneath her fingertips once again, but this time, she felt the button and pressed down on the release mechanism. It unlatched with a satisfying click as the clip came undone at last.

Ruth carefully slipped the harness from her shoulders before pushing herself to her feet. She needed to find Hope and Frank if any of them stood a chance of evading capture. Just as she set off, the hushed whisper of voices floated through the air, and Ruth’s heart dropped as she frantically searched for somewhere to hide. Her eyes caught sight of a nearby bush that was big enough and quickly took off for it. Just as she reached the cover, her foot caught on a root, sending her to the ground in a heap, branches crunching loudly beneath her. Pain shot up her arm as she collided with the dirt, and she bit down hard on her lip to stifle a cry. She pushed past the pain and scrambled completely behind the bush, covering her nose and mouth to quiet the sound of her pants.

Amidst the rustling leaves and her racing heartbeat, she heard it…the unmistakable sound of a pistol being cocked. Fear gripped her once again as she imagined the German soldiers closing in, coming to take her away, to do whatever they wanted with her.

Would Hope and Frank escape?

Would John ever know what happened to her?

Closing her eyes, she began to pray…

Lord, please protect Hope. Protect Frank. Keep them safe. Please give me the strength to endure whatever may come next if it’s Your will. And be with John, Lord. Watch over him. Amen.

The sound of footsteps drew closer and each crunch of leaves echoed like thunder in Ruth’s ears as she braced herself for the inevitable. She held her breath, waiting for the moment she’d be discovered.

But then a voice cut through the darkness, and Ruth’s heart skipped a beat. “Come out. Nice and slow.”

What German had a New Jersey accent?

She popped her head out from behind the bush with a small whimper, her eyes widening as Frank stood before her, his pistol pointed in her direction. He immediately lowered the weapon and Hope moved out from behind him, rushing toward the blonde.

“Ruth!” Hope gasped, falling beside her friend and throwing her arms around her neck, squeezing her close. “You’re okay.”

Relief filled her system seeing her best friend, and she hugged her back the best she could with her injured arm close to her chest. “Hope,” Ruth whispered, the pain moving to the back burner amid the pure joy she felt.

Hope’s hands fell instinctively to Ruth’s injured arm despite her friend’s small protest. She ran her fingers up and down the limb, noticing the swelling around the wrist and elbow joint. Rummaging in her musette bag, Hope pulled free some bandages, wrapping the affected limb tightly to provide some support and help reduce the swelling that was already growing along Ruth’s arm.

She sat back on her feet, scanning the area for the blonde’s parachute. Finding it a few feet away, she quickly grabbed it and pulled it over to the bush. She cut out a large triangle, folding it in half, and placing the injured limb inside the makeshift sling. She worked swiftly, and no words were exchanged between the three until Hope was finished.

“Are you alright? What happened?” Hope finally asked, tying the knot securely at the base of Ruth’s neck. She cupped her friend's cheek tenderly, and relief flooded through her as those bright blue eyes she’d grown to love so much blinked tearily back at her.

Ruth stood to her feet with a wince. “My chute got shot up and I-I hit the trees…fell on my arm,” she paused, her voice dropping to a pained whisper as the mere thought of the crash brought the pain crashing over her again. “Hope, I think…I think it’s broken.”

“Yeah, at least fractured,” Hope nodded with a concerned frown, wiping away some of the blood dripping from a cut on Ruth’s temple. “When we-”

Before the nurse could continue, Frank’s hand landed on her shoulder and his eyes scanned the forest around them. “I’m sorry, but we’ve gotta get going. The krauts are probably on their way as we speak.”

Hope quickly stashed the parachute behind the bush and took her place under Frank’s arm, allowing him to lean against her while Ruth watched with furrowed brows.

“What did you do?” she asked worriedly.

The pilot shot her a pained grin. “I’m alright,” he gritted as they started walking slowly. “Hope, we’ve gotta go faster. I don’t care about my ribs. Let’s go.”

Picking up the pace, they made their way through the small but hilly forest, eyes scanning the surrounding trees. Frank and Hope led the way and he held his pistol at the ready, nothing but the quiet sounds of their footsteps in the air. Ruth trailed right behind them, no less than an arm’s length away at all times. Her arm throbbed where it sat in the sling but she could only imagine the pain Frank was in. The nurses had seen a few grown men cry from the pain of a few broken ribs.

The sun sat high in the sky when they finally reached the forest’s edge, and more rolling hills and patches of forest stretched on in the distance, the only building in sight a small house in a clearing ahead. Hope panted from under Frank’s arm as the trio debated their next move.

“We can’t go out into the open. They’ll see us for sure,” Hope whispered, gesturing with her free hand for Ruth to come up beside them.

The blonde took a step forward, but when something cold and hard pressed against the back of her head, she froze. Her eyes widened and a gasp escaped her lips just before a hand clamped over her mouth, pulling her back into a warm body. The pressure moved to the side of her head…she knew what it was, and her chest heaved as terror overtook her.

They couldn’t be captured.

How were they supposed to be POWs?

What would they do to them?

Following her gasp, Hope craned her head to look over her shoulder at the blonde, her face falling at the sight before her. She met Ruth’s terror-filled eyes, and helplessness coursed through her. She opened her mouth to speak but the German beat her to it, his heavily accented voice harsh and guttural.

“Drop your weapon or I’ll shoot,” the soldier commanded, his words cutting through the silence of the forest.

Ignoring the pain in his torso, Frank spun around with his gun raised. His grip on the pistol tightened for a moment as his jaw clenched. With a gruff sigh, he slowly lowered the weapon to the ground, his eyes never leaving the soldier who held Ruth against his chest.

“Drop it!”

Tossing the pistol to the forest floor, Frank raised his hands to the best of his ability and Hope did the same, unable to tear her gaze away from Ruth’s. Her eyes seemed to tell her friend, ‘It’s okay. Just look at me. You’re alright.’

Ruth couldn’t do anything but watch as three krauts passed her and began searching Frank and Hope. The one holding her finally removed his hand and holstered his pistol before turning her to face him. His grey eyes scanned her face in a way that made her skin crawl, and Ruth’s mind noted the contrast between his greys and John’s that brought her so much comfort…the ones she loved. Her hand shook as she raised her right to the side of her head, the injured one remaining immobile against her chest.

The soldier began to search her, his hands roaming over her body roughly. She closed her eyes and bit her lip to stifle a gasp as his fingers dug into her pockets, pulling out her belongings one by one. Ruth’s heart sank as she watched him confiscate John’s letter along with their picture.

It was all she had left of him.

It was then when the searching hands became invasive, his groping and grabbing fingers lingering in places they had no right to be. She clenched her eyes shut as disgust washed over her.

“That’s enough,” Frank’s voice rang out, his eyes blazing with anger. “She’s not armed.”

The hands paused and the man stepped back, seemingly satisfied with the search. Ruth’s shaky hands remained in the air while the kraut handed her effects to a man wearing a cap bearing the Nazi eagle.

‘An officer,’ she thought.

A shiver ran through Ruth as her eyes fell to the man’s upper arm. The bright red armband and swastika of the Nazi party stared back at her, and she felt as if she was looking the epitome of evil in the face.

She was.

All the death, all the destruction…it was all because of these people. All because of Adolf Hitler. If they were willing to do whatever it took to win the war, what would they be willing to do to them?

She was pulled from her worry when the officer said something in German and motioned to his men to bring the prisoners forward in a line.

One of them grasped Ruth’s good arm and pulled her to fall in line beside Hope, who sent her an scared glance. Two soldiers stood on either side of them with rifles drawn as the officer stood before the Americans, an unsettling smirk on his lips.

“For you, the war is over.”

The cool morning breeze whipping through the torn canvas walls of the truck sent goosebumps across Ruth’s body, and she tugged her flight jacket closer to her body. She sat between Frank and Hope, her good hand now securely in her best friend’s. No words had been exchanged between the crew since they’d climbed in, and with the piercing eyes of three soldiers sitting across the truck from them, their rifles sitting on their laps, the Americans were terrified.

Exhaustion wore on them, but they could not sleep or close their eyes as adrenaline still coursed through their veins. The Germans had forced them through the dense, mountainous forest for half a mile before reaching a winding road among one of the hills where a troop transport truck awaited them.

Hope’s body almost gave in as they climbed aboard the truck, her muscles aching after supporting Frank for so long. Ruth had tried to take her place multiple times but was waved off due to her injury. And that’s where they found themselves…in the back of the truck driving through the German countryside.

The landscape was beautiful. Ruins of old castles atop mountaintops, picturesque villages, and lush green forests filled with tall spruces and pines caught the women’s attention through the opening in the back of the truck. Frank could’ve cared less and stared straight ahead, trying to focus on breathing and pushing through the pain radiating from his ribs.

Before long, the truck rumbled to a stop and they all shared a worried glance when the officer appeared at the tailgate.

“Out.”

Ruth carefully hopped out first, holding her throbbing arm tight against her chest while Hope helped Frank down. Their eyes widened in awe as they were met with a scene straight out of a storybook. If it weren’t for the Nazis pushing them along the road and the rifles pointed at them, they could’ve been on vacation, sightseeing in the beautiful town before them.

The narrow cobblestone streets wound their way through a maze of old buildings, each one with intricate timber frames and colorful exteriors. Some even had window boxes overflowing with vibrant flowers, adding to the warmth and color of the village.

A rough voice broke them from their awestruck gaze, and the soldier behind Hope nudged her with his rifle. “Walk!”

As they marched through the town, bloodied and looking worse for wear, residents became aware of their presence and peered cautiously from the sides of the street. Shopkeepers paused in their tracks, their hands stilling in their work as they watched the prisoners pass. Hope and Ruth drew more than a few puzzled looks, and some townsfolk whispered among themselves with expressions mixed with confusion and concern.

"Frauen? Was machen die denn hier?" muttered a woman passing them on the road, her words carrying over the murmurs of the crowd. An elderly woman beside her shook her head, her wrinkled brow furrowed in disbelief.

The group continued through the village, and just ahead, a few children played in the street. A barely perceptible smile played on Ruth’s lips as the kids' laughter echoed off the buildings. It made her think of Billy, Sammy, and that day on the hardstand they showed her around the plane, asking millions of questions. Her eyes remained on the kids when they approached, but her smile quickly fell when the children turned to look at them with pure disdain on their features.

One of the boys’ small hands formed into the shape of a gun and he pointed it straight at them. There was no playfulness in his gesture, no hint of amusement. Instead, his eyes contained a disturbing intensity as he mimicked the actions he had likely seen performed countless times by soldiers and adults around him.

A chill ran up Ruth’s spine, her stomach churning as she watched the boy move his hand with them until they passed. She exchanged a glance with Hope and Frank, and they all recognized the chilling reality of the situation. This was not a child playing a game…this was a child who had been taught to see them as enemies, as symbols of everything that stood against the beliefs instilled in him by the governing regime.

Glancing around at the faces of the townspeople, Hope couldn’t help but wonder how many others harbored similar sentiments. How many of the German people would kill them on the spot simply for the country they served, for the freedom they were trying to protect?

“I wonder where they’re taking us,” Hope whispered to Ruth.

The blonde bit her lip, her worried eyes flicking around them. “I don’t kn-”

"Ruhig! No talking!" the guard behind Hope spat, shoving her forward roughly, making her and Frank lose their balance and fall to the cobblestone street. The Captain fought to contain a groan as his knees collided with the stones, sending a shockwave of pain through his torso.

Ruth immediately moved to help them, her hand reaching out instinctively only to be yanked back by a strong grip on the collar of her flight jacket. She stumbled backward with a small whimper as the movement jostled her arm. Her voice caught in her throat and the words she wanted to speak were trapped by the knot of fear that gripped her.

She knew that any defiance would only invite further punishment, and she couldn’t bear the thought of making their situation any worse. If the actions of the young boy taught her anything, it was that the Germans had no problems with taking care of prisoners without proper treatment. So with trembling limbs, she obeyed the soldier’s command, her worried gaze flicking anxiously between Hope and Frank as they struggled to their feet.

“Help me,” Hope pleaded, her dark eyes looking through tears at the soldiers who merely smirked. “HELP ME!”

Ruth’s eyes burned as she watched Hope pull Frank to his feet, mumbling soft apologies when he whined in protest and clutched his broken ribs.

“Move!” One of the soldiers shoved the barrel of his MP-40 into Hope’s back, prodding her harshly, “Schnell.”

Hope reached behind her, gripping Ruth’s hand tightly and giving it one squeeze before releasing the blonde’s shaky hand. The group moved forward in a single file line, careful as they stepped down the stone street. Their eyes glanced around at the German villagers watching them like hawks...one wrong move and the group knew that this town would be their final resting place.

The guards led them along the river, the water rushing passed loudly as it wound through the village. Ruth’s eyes were glued to the town’s beautiful scenery, and she knew that she might not see anything as beautiful for a long while. A few seconds later, her gaze moved to the left, and caught sight of a large white building with four figures on the wall, one proudly hoisting the Nazi flag. Ruth shivered involuntarily at the pure adoration the German people had for the regime.

‘Some of them must not agree…right?’ she thought.

“Move, bitch,” one of the soldiers sneered, pushing the barrel of his gun into Hope’s back once more. Her jaw tightened and she knew resisting wasn’t going to be good for any of them, but she couldn’t help the urge to slap that stupid smirk on his face. She turned on her heels just as Ruth caught her arm, sending her a pitiful look that instantly caused Hope to soften. She nodded once in a silent promise that she’d behave, despite the anger rising within her. Frank nudged his shoulder into Hope, encouraging her to keep moving. It was a team effort for them all to survive, each having to bite their tongue and remain calm for their friends.

All too soon, the trio were ushered into a large building just beside the train tracks, and they could only assume it was the station.

Ruth’s heart dropped…They were being transported by rail, which meant the Americans were being taken farther into Germany…probably much farther.

Large letters hung above the door, the dark wood in contrast with the off-white stone of the building.

SCHILTACH

‘So that’s where we are,’ Ruth thought. She’d never heard of the city, but its name and what she experienced there would surely haunt her for the rest of her life.

It was a rundown building with cracks streaking up the walls, and any recollection of its pre-war days had long been extinguished. The walk through the building was short, and the soldiers quickly filed them through a single door and out onto the platform where a cargo train was stationed. Several more German soldiers and officers lined the platform, two with Alsatian dogs on leashes that somehow looked even more menacing than their handlers.

The officer leading them to the station stepped away, talking in hushed tones to another officer before nodding to his men. Frank was the first to be pushed forward and moved towards a railroad car, the door sliding open with a loud clang. The train cars were old, their outer wooden slats rotten and falling easily from their frames. They hardly looked worthy of a people who thought of themselves as the “superior race.”

Frank glanced back at the girls and stepped inside, disappearing into the darkness. It occurred then to Ruth that this might be their last time together. What happens if they get split up into different rail cars or trains? The thought of being alone without Hope and Frank filled Ruth with more anxiety, and she subtly grasped Hope’s arm.

The soldier behind Hope chuckled, leaning close to her ear and whispering, “You go next, schlampe.” Her whole body tensed as she stepped forward, feeling Ruth’s grip on her arm disappear. She couldn’t see into the train car and stepped in blindly, fumbling around until her hands fell onto a warm chest that smelt like the all too familiar aftershave.

From the moment Hope disappeared into the rail car, Ruth began to pray.

‘Please let me stay with them, Lord. Please. I can’t do this without them.’

She stood there holding her breath as the seconds ticked by like hours, and just when she began to lose hope, a hand collided with her back and shoved her forward. The sudden movement jostled her arm as she blindly fumbled around the dark train car until her waving hand finally grasped something warm. Knowing it was Hope, she melted into the woman, tears once again filling her eyes when a strong arm wrapped around her.

“We’re gonna be alright,” Frank assured them, rubbing their arms gently.

For some reason, now that they were away from the prying eyes of the Germans, they felt safer. It was like they could breathe easily for a little while. The railcar door suddenly slammed shut, plunging them into darkness. It was then Ruth noticed the smell…the strong stench of stale urine mixed with sweat and vomit. The rancid odor burned her nostrils with every breath, and nausea swirled in her stomach at the thought of what had happened in the car before them.

Who were they?

Where were they taken?

Were they alive?

The floor was damp beneath their feet and she could only imagine what they were walking on.

It was best not to know.

The trio settled down in the corner of the train where a small beam of light pierced through the darkness, illuminating just a small amount of the cramped quarters. Sighing, Hope slipped down the wall, nestling between Ruth and Frank. They all looked far worse for wear than earlier, and Hope wished she still had her musette bag of supplies. Reluctantly, she peeled the blood fabric of her overalls away from her right knee, examining the deep, angry gash that ran across the joint. She hissed, pulling the fabric back down and meeting Ruth’s eyes.

“It’s not that bad,” she whispered, placing a comforting hand upon Ruth’s, smiling through gritted teeth.

Ruth’s eyes drifted back down to Hope’s knee, eyeing the growing crimson patch suspiciously. She’d known Hope long enough to know when she was lying, but knowing Hope, she wouldn’t admit how much pain she was truly in. Her blue eyes rose to Hope’s dark ones, “It looks pretty bad to me, Hope. I…”

“Hey, don’t worry about me, alright? Everything’s going to be fine, I promise.” Hope felt guilty, she knew she shouldn’t make promises she couldn’t keep, but seeing how Ruth visibly relaxed a little made the lie worth it.

What good would it do to make her best friend more worried?

The train rumbled to life and slowly pulled away from the station, sending a domino of shakes and shudders down the railcar as it pulled out of the station. The rocking was oddly comforting, like how a baby likes to be rocked in its bassinet, and after the trauma of the day, they needed any ounce of comfort they could get. Ruth finally relaxed into Hope’s side, burying her head into the crook of her neck as Frank sat quietly on the other side clutching his ribs, his breathing quieter now. Wherever they were going, it was probably a long ride, and for a moment they took comfort in the solace.

They must have drifted asleep because the next thing Hope remembered was the large container door being swung open, flooding the train car with a bright white light. She squished herself back into Frank, who had his arm protectively around her shoulder, trying to bury her head from the blinding light. Four figures stumbled through the light, disappearing into the darkened end of the car before the door swung closed once more. Everyone in the car remained silent, only the noise of Frank’s heavy breathing could be heard.

“Is someone in here?” A rather posh English accent was emitted from the darkness. Nobody spoke, too afraid of what more people in the car meant for them. “Hello?”

“What do you want?” Frank spoke up, his voice gruff and hoarse from the dusty air within the train car.

“Nothing,” the man replied, “Other than to know where they’re sending us.”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Hope replied, shuffling forward until Frank’s hand came across her chest, stopping her movements. She could see the whites of his eyes in the darkness looking at her sternly and beside him Ruth’s eyes stared wide and frightened.

“Is that a woman’s voice?” Another man asked, followed by a shuffling noise. It sounded as though the men were approaching them and Hope held her breath until her hand came into contact with a warm body.

“I’m Wing Commander Jones, this man to my right is Squadron Leader Colman. The two on my left are Flight Officers Carter and Williams. We’re with the RAF,” Jones spoke up, reaching his hand out for Hope to shake. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness and she could make out the rather battered features of the Wing Commander. He was a handsome fella, only in his late 20s with sandy blonde hair. The other three men looked no better off, all bloody and bruised.

“I’m First Lieutenant Hope Armstrong, I’m a U.S. Flight Nurse. This is my colleague Second Lieutenant Ruth Morgan and our pilot, Captain Frank Martin.”

The men all nodded in greeting, and Frank and Ruth greeted them in turn before the pilots took their seats on the rough wooden floor, huddling together like the trio had when they had first boarded.

The locomotive soon rumbled to life again, pulling away from the station with its wheels clattering loudly against the tracks. The wind whooshed past the engine, creating an eerie whistling noise between the railcars. The occupants remained silent, all too deep in their own thoughts to talk amongst themselves.

Ruth moved to rest her head against Hope’s chest, snuggling into her friend's flight jacket and enjoying the familiar smell of Hope. She felt safe, warm, and familiar…something that the blonde clung to as they rocked to and fro in the dark. Ruth’s heart rate slowed a little in the familiar embrace. She just wanted to sleep, the pain in her arm having ebbed to a dull ache for the time being. As long as she didn’t move the limb, it wasn’t too bad.

“You okay?” Hope whispered, pushing a few wisps of blonde hair from her friend's forehead. Ruth looked up at her, large blue eyes reflecting in the dim light. They looked tearful, and Hope drew her arm up around Ruth, pulling her against her body.

“It will be alright, Rue. You’ll see. We’ll be okay,” she mumbled, pressing her lips to Ruth’s forehead.

“You can’t promise that,” Ruth mumbled, snuggling her head further into Hope’s chest, hearing her heart beating strongly against her ear reminding her that they were still alive. “Are you scared?”

Hope nodded, letting a few tears slip silently down her cheeks, the image of her best friend looking so broken and forlorn hurt more than she could bear. “Course, I’m scared, Rue, but we’ve got to be strong. We’ve got to get back to John and Gale, remember? And Hugh too.”

A small smile spread across Ruth’s lips as Hope jokingly added her brother as an afterthought.

“If I remember rightly, I have a wedding to get to, and I need my maid of honor there with me,” Hope glanced down at Ruth, looking upon the mass of blonde curls that now lay in her lap. She wished she could be as scared as Ruth, and truly she was, but something in her made her stay strong. She couldn’t afford to give up hope yet.

Ruth rolled onto her side, looking up at her friend, a small smile playing on her lips, “I can’t wait for your wedding. You’re gonna look so beautiful, Hope.”

Ruth had to admit that she’d been a little more than excited about the prospect of a wedding. They had so little to look forward to in this darn war that it was the highlight of Ruth’s year, well maybe after meeting John, of course.

Hope smiled weakly, “Thanks, Rue. That’s why I need my best girl there beside me. I can’t do it all alone,” she shook her friends' shoulders playfully, careful to mind her injured arm.

“You won’t be alone, you’ll have Gale,” Ruth corrected her, “And we all know that you won’t be needing me after you're married. You two will be having too much fun,” Ruth smiled sadly, the reality of them splitting up hitting her more than she’d ever realized. They’d taken for granted every day they’d been able to spend together, and the thought of not seeing Hope’s smiling face daily made her heart ache a little more.

Noticing Hope’s strained expression, she piped up. “I don’t know if John would like the idea of me being your best girl instead of his.”

Hope chuckled, “Hey, I claimed you first. You’ll always be my best girl, Ruth.” She brushed her fingers softly over the older woman’s forehead, tracing the worry lines with her index finger. “Love you, Rue.”

Ruth wasn’t sure why Hope had suddenly turned so sentimental, normally she was the levelheaded one of the pair, the quick thinker, the reliable one, but now..

“Love you too, Hope,” she replied quietly, her eyes drawing closed as she slipped out of consciousness again as the rocking of the railcar sent her to sleep.

The red leaves of the maple trees danced in the wind as Ruth’s small feet pedaled down her street, waving to neighbors as she passed. Her training wheels wobbled beneath her, but it didn’t stop her from going just as fast as the other speeding by.

“Who you got tonight?” Jimmy Watson called from across the road, pausing from raking the hundreds of leaves from his yard. His lines on his elderly face always seemed to soften at the sight of the girl.

A wide, toothy grin grew on her face, and she slowed her pace. “You know who!”

“Nahhh, there’s no way they’ll win,” Jimmy laughed. “They’re on a 15 game losing-streak.”

Ruth pedaled faster with a shrug. “We’ll see! Talk to ya’ later!”

Just as she reached her driveway, a little boy came bursting through the door, his blonde curls bouncing as he ran towards her. “Ruth! They’re about to throw the first pitch! Come on!”

She quickly dismounted and leaned her bike against the garage door, following her brother into the house as their shoes squeaked on the floors. With a quick reminder of “no shoes in the house” from their mother, the siblings ran into the living room and cranked up the radio.

They lay on the rug beside the radio, their eyes sparkling with excitement as they listened to the game on the edge of their ‘seats.’ Jimmy was right…the Braves were on a 15-game losing streak, but Ruth had hope.

‘This is the one,’ she thought. ‘This is it.’

As the crackling voice of the announcer filled the room, the Morgans were bursting at the seams with anticipation. “Bobby Smith winds up…throws…and it’s a curve ball just dotting the corner of batter’s box for strike one!”

With an excited squeal, Ruth raised her hand to high-five James, but when she turned, he was gone. She glanced around the room with furrowed brows as static suddenly burst through the radio, the harsh sound making her jump.

What was going on?

She rose to her feet quickly and called out for her family. “Mama? Jamie? Daddy?”

“Ruth.”

Confusion clouded her mind as the scene around her began to shift, the walls of her childhood living room melting away like wax in a fire. The comforting warmth of the room was replaced by the dimly lit interior of a pub that she quickly recognized as the one in Dickleburgh. Blinking in surprise, Ruth tried to make sense of the sudden change, her heart pounding in her chest as she looked around, searching for anything to tell her what was going on.

And then, she saw him…John, sitting across from her with his signature grin plastered on his face.

When did she sit down at a table?

“You alright there, doll?” he asked, his voice cutting through the haze of her confusion.

Ruth glanced around the room, noticing for the first time the few people scattered across the pub. “Uh, yeah,” she shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I must have been daydreaming.”

He raised an eyebrow mischievously. “About me?”

“Oh, shut it. You wish.”

“It was about me, wasn’t it.”

Was it? What was she even thinking of before?

“Maybe,” she replied anyway with a strained smile as she met his gase. “But, uh, don’t let it go to your head, hotshot.”

Before John responded, a subtle shift in his demeanor caught her attention. The playful gleam in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a look of concern that sent a shiver down her spine.

“Ruth,” he said, his voice suddenly serious as he reached across the table to take her hand in his. “You need to wake up.”

His words caused a surge of panic to grip her heart. Was she dreaming? Was any of this real?

“What do you mean?” she asked with a trembling voice.

Johnny leaned forward, his eyes searching hers intensely. “Listen to me, Ruth,” he said urgently, his voice low but firm. “You need to wake up. They’re coming…you need to be ready. I love you.”

With a gasp, Ruth jolted awake, her heart racing as the remnants of her dream faded into the reality of her situation. For a split second, she felt disoriented, unsure of where she was or what was happening around her. But then, the traincar shuddered to a halt and jolted them forward before slamming them back against the hard, wooden wall of the car. Her eyes widened in alarm as the door to the railcar was thrown open, flooding the dimly lit space with blinding daylight.

“OUT! OUT! OUT!”

Without hesitation, Ruth scrambled to her feet beside the rest of the prisoners, her muscles aching from the uncomfortable position she’d been sleeping in. The prisoners all jostled against each other to climb through the door, sending sharp pains through her arm. Hope hopped down first, turning to help Ruth, but she was pushed forward just as the blonde reached for her hand. Ruth watched in horror as a German wrapped his arms around her and pulled her away.

“No! Hope!” Ruth cried, trying desperately to push through the prisoners toward her friend, but the densely packed bodies were too tight. “Hope!”

As she was shoved with the flow of the crowd, Frank suddenly appeared beside her, his face screwed up in a pained expression. “Where is she?!”

“We got separated! A Kraut grabbed her! I-”

He instantly rose to his full height and looked over the dozens of heads surrounding them, his eyes scanning the faces of the scared prisoners. Frank then realized there were many more railcars behind theirs, adding even more panicked soldiers to the already busy platform.

Just when he was about to give up, he caught a flash of Hope’s long, dark hair, and his heart rose to his throat. But just as quickly as he saw her, she was gone.

“Hope!”

Ruth clutched Frank’s A-2 jacket tightly as tears trickled down her cheeks. A few moments later, the prisoners were forced into a single file line and led through the disgusting, run-down wartime lobby of Frankfurt’s main railway station. Groups of angry civilians lined the sides of the station, but to their relief, the people thenkfully restraining themselves from attacking. Both of them kept looking over their shoulder for any sign of Hope but were pulled from their search when a thick German accent filled the air. “You two!”

Stepping out of line, they stood in front of the German. He wore a different uniform than the other guards, the grey of the others replaced by a dark blue.

“You are with the Air Forces, yes?”

‘So he’s Luftwaffe.’ Ruth thought.

Frank nodded silently and Ruth tried to blink away her tears, but they wouldn’t stop.

Where was Hope?

Where was her best friend?

“You come with me.”

The duo shared a wary glance before slowly following him, two other guards behind them as they walked down a hallway, its dark green paint peeling and chipping with age. He led them through a door and to a transport truck much like the one they’d arrived to Schiltach in. As they slowly climbed aboard, the officer raised an eyebrow.

“There were three of you? Another woman, yes?”

Ruth nodded again while Frank dared to speak. “We were separated. One of your guys dragged her away.”

He seemed to briefly contemplate the Captain’s words, then wordlessly walked back into the station, leaving the prisoners under the supervision of two Luftwaffe soldiers too caught up in their conversation to worry about the Americans.

“Do you think he’s finding Hope?” Ruth asked quietly, quickly wiping the tears from her face. They stung the small cuts from her crash, but that was the least of her worries.

“I hope so.”

The pair were made aware of another prisoner’s presence as a cough from further into the truck filled the air. “How’d you end up becoming a POW, ma’am? Haven’t seen any women during my lovely tour through France and Germany.”

Turning towards him, Ruth’s eyes narrowed slightly as she scanned his face.

He looked so familiar.

The airman wore her same puzzled expression for a few moments until recognition dawned on him. “Wait…You’re Bucky’s girl, aren’t you? The flight nurse?”

She nodded, her hand flying to her mouth as she realized she’d seen him around Thorpe Abbotts.

He was in the Hundredth! He knew John and Buck!

“We’ve never been introduced, but the name’s Bob. Bob Wolff. I’m in…or was in the 418th with Egan. Best Squadron Commander I’ve ever had. Amazing leader.”

A teary smile grew on her lips. “He is, isn’t he?” she paused, her mind thinking of her beloved Major. “It’s nice to meet you, Bob. I’m Ruth, and this is our pilot, Frank. We don’t…we don't know where Hope is.”

“Hope? Cleven’s fiancée, Hope?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh boy,” Bob sighed, running a tired hand down his face. “Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not in Thorpe Abbotts right now.”

Frank and Ruth shared a confused glance and looked back at the man. “What do you mean?”

“I have a feeling a few firecrackers are gonna go off until they get word you’re alive.”

“If they get word we’re alive,” Frank muttered under his breath.

If Ruth was being completely honest, she hadn’t thought of how John would take the news. It was no secret that Bucky Egan could be a hothead, aways the first one to volunteer to fight in the pubs when the RAF got under the Americans’ skin. But that was something as trivial as annoyance…how would he react to her going down?

The blonde knew how she’d react if their roles were reversed…she would crumble.

Would he revert to his old habits?

She prayed he wouldn’t.

Before she could speak, the loud opening of the station’s side door stole their attention. Relief washed over them at the sight of Hope emerging from the building. The Luftwaffe officer led her by the elbow, showing a surprising level of respect compared to the rough treatment they’d experienced earlier.

Wolff moved toward the back of the truck to sit across from them and extended a hand to Hope, who took it with a nod. Ruth shot to her feet the second she was on board and enveloped her into a tight embrace, ignoring the pain shooting through her arm at the movement.

“I-I tried to get to you,” Ruth whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Hope returned the hug, pulling back with tear-filled eyes. “It’s okay, Rue. I know.”

From beside them, Frank’s brows furrowed as he caught sight of something on her neck. He gently reached out and brushed aside Hope’s dark hair, revealing a series of finger-shaped bruises forming along her throat. Anger flared within the man at the sight, and his fists clenched at his sides.

“What happened?” Frank asked, his voice low and protective

“I fought against the kraut that grabbed me…he didn’t like that.”

Frank realized she didn’t really want to say anymore and gave her hand a tight squeeze. She reached up, rubbing the bruises on her neck and collar bone. The guards soon climbed on board, and the trio sat along the wooden benches as the truck rumbled to life, taking off down the road. Hope intertwined her hand with Ruth’s and offered a comforting squeeze while Frank stared daggers at the Luftwaffe airmen in the truck.

It was only around twenty minutes when the truck rolled to a stop in front of a multiple-building complex surrounded by barbed wire and guard posts. A large wooden sign with white lettering stood at the entrance, and they all stared at the words as if they could possibly decipher the sign’s meaning despite not speaking a word of the language.

The officer reappeared at the tailgate, gesturing his head to the side. “Get out.”

They all followed the orders and hopped out of the truck, their boots squelching in the mud beneath their feet. Each helping the person behind them down until the four were led into the camp. The barbed wire stood tall above them as they silently walked through the gate and into a nearby wooden building.

A few desks were scattered about, and the multiple windows allowed the bright sunlight to illuminate the otherwise dark room. Without a word, they were directed to stand in a line, their backs against the wall. The ever-present knot of anxiety in Ruth’s stomach reared its ugly head and she felt nauseous…this was really happening.

One by one, they were called forward to be fingerprinted and photographed. Ruth was called first and felt a shiver go down her spine as the soldier roughly grabbed her hand and pressed her fingers onto the cold and inky pad, stamping it onto her processing form. She then moved further down the line to the photographer, whose face held the first semblance of sympathy she’d seen all day.

“Against the wall, please.”

Ruth obeyed and stood against the wall, forcing the corners of her lips to raise just slightly into a smile…or at least the best one she could muster. As the man raised the camera, her mind flashed back to the last time her picture was taken.

“Hey, Schwarz. Mind getting a picture of just the two of us?”

He nodded enthusiastically, adjusting the camera to focus on the couple. Bucky flashed a charming smile as he reached over and gently tugged Ruth from her chair into his lap.

“Hey!” she protested playfully, her cheeks flushing pink as John wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close.

Ruth giggled as Johnny leaned in, his cheek pressing against hers as they posed for the picture. Despite her initial protest, she found herself melting into his embrace. The photographer chuckled at their antics, capturing the moment with a few clicks of his camera. She glanced up at the Major just as Schwarz lowered his camera, and Bucky planted a soft kiss on her lips.

The table erupted into a chorus of whistles and hoots, their friends cheering them on as they kissed. Ruth laughed against John’s lips, feeling a rush of happiness and warmth enveloping her. Pulling back slightly, John gazed into her blue eyes, his own filled with pure adoration as her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink.

The camera’s click pulled her from her thoughts, and she tried to blink away the memory.

“Go sit,” the German directed, pointing to the benches in the corner of the room.

As she sat down on the bench, her body ached. She needed to be in a safe place, a comfortable space to sleep soundly, but her hope for that dream lessened as every moment passed. With a quiet sigh, Ruth blinked away tears that filled her eyes and watched Frank, Hope, and Bob go through processing. One by one, they joined her on the bench, none of them brave enough to speak in the stifling atmosphere of the room.

Once they were all finished, they were escorted from the intake building to a much smaller one across a large, muddy courtyard. A wall of warmth hit them as they shuffled into the room, and Ruth’s stomach growled at the smell of food being cooked. She didn’t know what it was, but it made her realize they hadn’t eaten all day. When the call came for their run, Ruth had grabbed a few pieces of bacon and planned to grab an actual meal when they got back to base later.

That plan went up in smoke the second their plane did.

They walked further into the room and sat at one of the long tables set up, Hope found her mouth watering. The four Americans shared confused glances while waiting for someone to speak. They stared at the officer expectantly, but he just nodded at something behind him and moved to stand by the door.

The RAF men who were with them on the train soon appeared in the doorway and were ushered towards their table. They all shared confused looks until a door opened at the other end of the room and several weathered-looking men walked in. They were dressed in the Air Force blue that the RAF was known for, their hair a little longer and shaggier than the pilots they had arrived with. Many of them had beards or some other sort of facial hair and they looked tired, dark circles under most of their eyes.

One of the younger men set out a bowl in front of each of the people sat around the table. Hope glanced over at Ruth who shared her confused expression.

Were they going to feed them?

The other two prisoners pushed a stainless steel trolley with a large silver pot on top. They opened the lid, revealing a steaming, brown liquid that was quickly slopped into the bowls. Hope grimaced at the chunks floating in the watery, brown soup. She decided not to ask what it was made of.

“How long have you been here?” Wing Commander Jones asked the youngest prisoner, grabbing his arm to stop him as he retreated from the table.

“I don’t know,” the young man admitted, his pale blue eyes casting a quick glance over the table. “Welcome to Germany, Sir.”

“Welcome to hell, more like,” one of the older men serving the soup spoke quietly, gazing over at the two Luftwaffe officers who remained in the doorway. “Just keep your heads low and keep out of trouble until they move you on. You shouldn’t be at Dulag Luft too long.”

“Move us on?” Frank spoke up. “Where do they move us to?”

The man shrugged, his uniform slipping a little on his thin, boney shoulders. The girls shared a look…a silent question.

How long would they be here?

“No one knows. Dulag Luft is where they hold you until they decide where to send you for the rest of the war. Some are here a few days, others a few weeks. Depends how long it takes them to place you,” he remarked, securing the lid back on the now empty pot. “You’re lucky if you get one run by the Luftwaffe. I hear they treat prisoners better than the Wehrmacht.”

The three prisoners retreated back through the doors at the end of the hall, followed by one of the officers, and the group was left in silence. Those at the table all shared the same anxious look, and even the Wing Commander’s dark eyebrows pulled tightly together.

“We should eat up,” Squadron Leader Colman interrupted the silence, digging his little spoon into the soup. He swallowed the liquid quickly, and Ruth wondered whether that was a good or bad thing. Regardless, they all followed suit, eating the bland soup quickly. Hope relished at the feeling of the warm liquid slipping down her throat, soothing her nerves slightly. It didn’t taste good, but it was warm, and that was all she could ask for.

As soon as they finished eating, three Luftwaffe officers strolled into the room, their long boots tapping harshly against the wooden floor of the hut.

“Up. Up,” the first one ordered, pushing several RAF men out of their chairs before moving around to the Americans. They formed an orderly line but no one dared to speak. The German officer at the front spun on his heels, marching loudly up the hall to which everyone followed.

Hope glanced nervously behind her, catching Ruth’s wide eyes as she sent her a reassuring smile. The younger nurse kept her pace just behind Frank, ensuring she didn’t fall behind the other prisoners.

They were led out of the mess hut and past a courtyard into another long, wooden building resembling the others they’d seen. The air turned bitterly cold as the evening drew in, and a shiver ran through Ruth as she wrapped her arms around herself, tucking her freezing hands into her armpits.

The officer swung open a door and led the prisoners into the building connected to the one beside it by a narrow passage. As they followed him through the compound, Ruth’s stomach swirled with anxiety at the dozens of doors that lined the long hallway. She had a sinking feeling there were prisoners on the other side of each.

Just how many prisoners were there?

When the line came to a sudden stop, Ruth watched as a guard unlocked one of the doors, throwing it open with a loud creak. “In,” he commanded Wing Commander Jones who glanced back at his men before stepping inside, the door shutting quickly behind him.

They moved to the cell next door and repeated the same action with Squadron Leader Colman. It was then that reality hit Ruth, and she realized they were being split up. The anxiety within her turned to pure dread, and the nurse fought to keep the tears from welling in her eyes. Hope had always been there beside her, helping her when things were falling apart, but what would she do without her? What would happen to either of them if they were alone?

Hope came to the same conclusion, reaching cautiously behind her until Ruth grasped her hand silently. She squeezed the blonde’s hand reassuringly in a silent promise that everything would be okay, even if she didn’t believe that herself.

Staying calm only grew harder as the line of prisoners dwindled, and Frank sent the girls a pained smile just as a guard shoved him into a cell, closing the door with a bang.

Hope was next.

The guards moved to unlock a cell a few down from Frank’s, the wooden door swinging back with an eerie creak to reveal the dark room within. Ruth’s mind reeled as she watched Hope stare into the cell, unable to step forward. As much as she wanted to stay with her, she silently urged her to step inside, to go without a fight.

Resisting would do nothing but worsen their already terrible situation.

Before Hope worked up the courage to step forward, the guard shoved her into the cell, shutting the door behind her. Hopelessness washed over Ruth, and tears finally trickled down her cheeks as she heard her friend’s muffled and panicked cries through the thick door.

“No! RUTH!”

“Hope!!” She yelled back, her voice cracking while the guards moved her down the hall. “I’ll be okay!”

Ruth wiped her wet cheeks with her sleeve, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm her racing heart, but nothing worked.

She was alone.

With every step farther from Hope and Frank, her hope dwindled, as well as her composure. They took a right down another identical hall, and the thud of Ruth’s boots were the only sound echoing through the long corridor. Just as with the other prisoners, the officer stopped, gesturing to the guard to unlock the cell. With an even louder shriek than Hope’s, the door swung open.

From where the light spilled into the dark room, Ruth saw a wooden cot and a chair pushed against the corner. She swallowed thickly and stepped forward into the cell, her nose wrinkling at its dank smell when the door slammed behind her. It took a few moments for her tear-filled eyes to adjust to the newfound darkness.

Ruth ran her hand along the wall until she reached the corner and carefully sank to the floor, the cold, rough walls pressing in on her from all sides. Alone in the darkness, fear gnawed at her insides, twisting and turning until she felt as though she might suffocate beneath its grip.

Taking a shaky breath, she closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cold block wall, her throbbing arm hugged to her chest. “Lord, please give me strength,” Ruth whispered, her voice cracking as tears spilled down her cheeks. “Give us all the strength to make it through this. Please.”

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todaysdocument · 4 years

Photo

"Freed Allied soldiers pose under various signs they have erected at Dulag-Luft," 3/29/1945

Series: Franklin D. Roosevelt Library Public Domain Photographs, 1882 - 1962. Collection: Franklin D. Roosevelt Library Public Domain Photographs, 1882 - 1962.

Uncover more World War II Resources at the National Archives.

#World War II #WWII #WW2 #allied soldiers #military #troops #Dulag-Luft #signage #signs #Wetzlar Germany #Germany #March 29 #1940s #1945 #1900s #archivesgov

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strongbrew-hamstery · 5 years

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Meet #Wings! Wings is an ED black male and one of our #GreatEscapePups. Wings is named after Harry Melville Arbuthnot Day,“Wings”, one of the 76 men to escape, and one of the few to survive.

Wings was born in Borneo. He joined the Officers Cadet Corps while at Haileybury College, and then joined the Royal Marines in 1916. He served in World War I on the battleship HMS Britannia. On November 9, 1918, his ship was torpedoed and sank. Wings returned twice below deck, through flames, and rescued two trapped and injured men. For his act of bravery, he was awarded the Albert Medal.

Wings continued with the Royal Marines until 1924, when he joined the Royal Air Force. When WWII began, he was over 40. Wings volunteered to carry out the first operational mission in October 1939. He was shot down and landed by parachute. He was immediately captured and placed in the custody of the Nazi Doctor, Hermann Gauch. His crewmates were killed.

He remained a prisoner of war, and was sent to various POW camps, including Dulag Luft, Stalag Luft I, and then Stalag Luft III. In his time at Dulag Luft, Wings had sent variousintelligence back home in the form of coded letters and helped Roger Bushell with the construction of a tunnel. He did escape but was recaptured five days later.

In Stalag Luft I, and then III, he made three unsuccessful escape attempts (and a fourth at Oflag XXI-B) before the Great Escape. He helped Roger Bushell plan and organize the Great Escape of March 1944 and managed to get as far as Stettin. Unfortunately, they were exposed and recaptured. He was then interrogated by Arthur Nebe, who was the man who selected the 50 to be executed.

Wings later said that Hitler had ordered his execution personally but was asked to relent because he and his family were so well known to the public. He was then sent to Sachsenhausen concentration camp, where he made another tunnel escape. After this he was held in solitary confinement in the death cells. After the war, Wings was awarded the Distinguished Service Order, and the United States Legion of Merit for his services to American POWs.

Thank you for joining us for another #HistoryWithHamsters post. https://www.instagram.com/p/BrptsGLAggG/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=15inpcs8sntb9

#wings #greatescapepups #historywithhamsters #learningwithhamsters

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hbowarbabes · 3 months

Text

Living to See Another Day Pt. 4 (Bonus scene)

Summary: At Dulag Luft Prisoner of War Transit Camp, Y/n is being interrogated by Lieutenant Hausmann. Assuming she’ll give up information, he is immediately proven wrong.

Words: 1.2k

• • •

"Cigarette?” Lieutenant Hausmann held the carton in front of Y/n, waiting for her to take one. Y/n's heart raced as she looked at the man before her. He was tall and imposing, with sharp features and piercing eyes that were staring into her soul, not blinking once.

“I don’t smoke.” She swallowed nervously as he studied her with a calculating gaze.

Y/n had already turned down his offer of pouring her a glass of whiskey. On a regular day, saying yes to a drink would be no problem. But today, she felt the man had more sinister intentions behind the nice-guy act.

Lieutenant Hausmann set the untouched carton of cigarettes back on the desk, eyeing Y/n with interest. She could see the curiosity in his eyes as he took in her appearance – the only female air force pilot he had ever interrogated.

“So, I was made aware that you didn’t arrive here on your own, yes?”

Hausmann sat, both hands interlocked as he grinned smugly at Y/n.

“Yes. I arrived with another member of my fleet.”

Y/n was careful with the amount of information she disclosed. One wrong word, and they might try to use it against her.

“And if I could have the name and any other-“

“I don’t know the man personally.”

Y/n cut the interrogator off just as he reached for pen and paper. She wasn’t going to leave him with details about Bucky.

“You don’t know the name of a man stationed at Thorpe Abbotts? A man in your fleet?” Hausmann chuckled dryly.

“No, really. I don’t waste my time conversing with them as I have other important duties to attend to.”

Y/n made it all up, all while keeping a stern face. She just hoped the interrogator would buy her lie and not try to dive into the details of her work and her colleagues.

"Y/n," he said, his voice smooth and collected. "I must say, you are quite a rarity in these parts. The only female air force pilot I have had the pleasure of interrogating."

Y/n bristled at his insincere tone, but she held her tongue. She knew that giving in to anger would only give him more reasons to kill her off. If she planned to live, she’d have to play it safe.

Hausmann straightened his posture, steepling his fingers in front of him. "Tell me, Y/n, what brings a beautiful lady like yourself to the mess of this war?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Y/n felt her blood boil at his condescending tone. She clenched her jaw, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing her get pissed.

Hausmann leaned forward, his eyes locked on hers.

Y/n grew irritated by his words, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She had dealt with sexist remarks before, especially in a male-dominated profession like the air force. But she refused to let this man get under her skin.

“What is it you’re trying to say? You think I shouldn't be here?” Y/n asked, her voice steady despite the fear bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

Reaching across his desk, Hausmann pulled a thin file, opening it, flipping back and forth between pages. From Y/n’s view, there looked to be not much writing in the file. Just a picture of her during her time in flight training. It was odd since she never even remembered having a picture like that to herself.

"You understand why you're here, Y/n." Hausmann said in a low, menacing voice.

"No, I don’t understand." Y/n shook her head, her eyes narrowing.

"We have reason to believe that you are a spy."

Lieutenant Hausmann smiled, a cruel glint in his eyes. "We need some details on you and your recent mission as there is no information in your file. The Gestapo would have every reason to label you a spy. If you speak of anything you have knowledge of with this mission of yours, I can pass on the word that you are not a spy."

Y/n felt a surge of anger at his words. She knew the importance of keeping details of her mission a secret. All the information was classified. His false words of optimism left Y/n unwilling to spill the details.

“What would that do for me?”

“It would put you in a better place of course.”

Y/n wasn’t convinced. He wasn’t promising her a damn thing. She knew she wasn’t going back to England to begin with.

“How so? Because I don’t see how someone like you would be willing to get me back home.”

Hausmann leaned back in his seat, his eyes never leaving her face. Y/n remained silent, her jaw clenched in defiance. Hausmann's eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin.

"You may think you are being noble by refusing to cooperate, but in the end, you will only be hurting yourself. It’s your choice."

Y/n remained silent, her lips pressed tightly together in a thin line. He sighed and eventually closed the empty file on his desk, pushing it out of his reach.

Hausmann kept his gaze on Y/n, studying her carefully.

"It doesn't have to be like this, Y/n. You can make your time here much easier if you just tell me what I need to know. All you have to do is cooperate, and I can assure you that there won’t be any further issues.”

With a steely resolve, Y/n met Hausmann's gaze head-on and spoke in a firm, unwavering tone.

“You’re not going to get anything more than what I’ve already given you.”

Y/n's heart raced in her chest, but she refused to show any sign of fear. She knew that Hausmann was trying to intimidate her into revealing sensitive information, and she was not about to give him the satisfaction.

"You are making a grave mistake, Y/n," Hausmann said coldly.

Y/n mentally cursed herself, hoping she made the right decision. She knew that she was risking her own safety by refusing to comply with his demands, but she also knew that she had to stay true to her principles.

“I really expected more out of someone like you, Y/n. A woman of honor. A woman of class.” Hausmann’s steely blue eyes pierced through Y/n’s angered eyes, watching her closely with a devilish grin.

“I take it they don’t teach ladies how to act properly, do they?”

“And I take it they don’t teach you and your men how to act decently around women, do they, Lieutenant? That’s a shame.”

Hausmann's face twisted into a mask of anger as he realized that Y/n was not going to give him what he wanted. With a snarl of frustration, he moved his hands away from the desk, inhaling deeply.

“I gave you a chance, Y/n. But since you are unwilling to comply, I really wish you the best.”

“Screw you.”

As Hausmann gave Y/n a smug look, the door of the office burst open. The two officers returned, each grabbing one of Y/n’s arms and dragging her out of Hausmann’s office

Y/n held back the urge to scream profanities at the interrogator as he simply grinned at her while she was being escorted to her room, once again being left alone to fend for herself.

#mota #mota fanfic #masters of the air #major john egan #john egan #bucky egan #major john egan x reader #john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader

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warhistoryonline · 6 years

Photo

Sgt. Edward Hill captured five years earlier at Dunkerque was freed when American Seventh Armored Division, First Army captured Dulag-Luft POW Camp, March 1945. http://bit.ly/2IokSep

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footprintsinthesxnd · 1 month

Text

Chapter 10: The Soliloquy

Gale Cleven x Hope Armstrong (ofc)

Series Masterlist

This story is based on on the fictional portrayal of these men from the MOTA to series.

Summary: After finding themselves in German territory the girls find themselves under interrogation and have a less than pleasant stay at Dulag Luft. Meanwhile Gale has to face his feelings of losing the woman he loves.

Collab: A Pair of Silver Wings by @major-mads

October 22nd: Dulag Luft: Frankfurt, Germany

Lying on the cold, stone floor was a far cry from the bed she was used to back at The Grove, or Thorpe Abbotts for that matter, yet it was still better than the rough cot in the corner. The fabric seemed to move on its own accord, and she could only imagine the infestation that had taken over between the sheets. The mattress was barely a few inches thick and the material was horrible rough.

Heavy footfall sounded outside the cell door before it swung open, grating against the floor with a harrowing screech. The two Luftwaffe officers stood before her, standing over her small form.

"Steh schnell auf!" The first officer called, marching over to her, "Up, now!"

The second officer appeared beside him, yanking Hope upwards despite her protests. She dug her feet into the cobbled floor, pushing her full body weight against the officers, but they didn't resist, continuing to drag her down the corridor.

Hope found tears forming in her eyes as she fought against the men that likely decide her fate. Were they going to kill her or worse would they torture her first? Death would be the easy way out at this point, in fact she would welcome death if it meant finding peace again.

The officers marched her into a small, office-like room and shoved her down into a rickety leather chair in front of a large mahogany desk. It was stacked high with folders, classified documents, and piles of letters. Her dark eyes roamed over the desk catching a glimpse of a familiar faces. Ruth. The picture was small and only half exposed but she'd recognise those blonde curls anywhere. Hope wondered if Ruth had been in this room recently. Whoever owned the office had clearly been looking over her file. She wondered if Frank's and her own file were in that mound too. What information would they have on her?

"Warren Sie heir," one of the officers instructed, slamming the door loudly behind them.

Hope knew very little German but regardless of what they had said she wasn't moving from the spot. Her heart was racing and she felt nauseous, the bile building in her throat. Her eyes remained trained of the half exposed image of Ruth in front of her. Somehow it bought her some comfort that her friend was okay. But the niggling question of , where was Ruth, and was she okay filled her mind? Her mind was full of unanswered questions and she wondered if she'd ever see her friend again. It felt like it had been a lifetime since she had seen the last glimpse of Ruth's face as she'd disappeared into her cell. Hope wasn't sure how much time actually had passed but she was sure it felt longer than it was. Her mind drifted to Frank too and she found herself reaching forward, a shaking hand brushing over the files on the desk to expose them. What would become of Ruth and Frank?

She turned to the sound of the door clicking open and saw another officer enter, his hair smeared down to his head and he wore a friendly smile, too friendly, the kind that made Hope feel uneasy.

"Ah, Lieutenant Armstrong, how nice to meet you. Are you well?" He grinned cheerfully at her, his bright white teeth seemingly dazzling in the dimly lit office and it made Hope feel uneasy. She shuffled her feet beneath her chair and continued to stare blankly at him.

From her very basic interrogation training upon joining the 806th MAETS, she knew everything was a tactic, a ploy to get her to talk. The best thing she could do, for everyone's sake, was to stay silent. There was nothing useful she could tell them anyway, she was a nurse after all and surely they would find the British pilots far more interesting than she was.

"I see you are not much of a talker, Lieutenant," the officer mused, sitting down opposite her, his hands clasped in front of him. "I am Lieutenant Haussmann."

Haussman's eyes bore into her but Hope continued to leave her eyes on the desk in front of her, not giving him the satisfaction that he could somehow get under her skin, despite the fact that his presence made her flesh crawl. Just the way each breath he took seemed to grate of her and each exhale caused his nostrils to whistle. She probably wouldn't have noticed if the room hadn't been so quiet, but there wasn't even the sounds of birds, of vehicles rumbling by, or even people talking. In this office Hope felt as though she was far away from the rest of the camp.

"Shall we begin then? I'm sure you want this over as quickly as possible," he began to shuffle the papers around on his desk until he found the folder he wanted, thumbing through the pages.

"Ah yes, here is your file. Hope Armstrong, that is not an American surname, it has Scottish origin, yes?" Haussmann raised an eyebrow expectantly at her.

"Lieutenant Hope Frances Armstrong, serial number N-770062." Hope bit her tongue, resisting the urge to spit the words at Hausssman.

Haussmann merely sighed, "Alright then. Why don't you tell me of your friend, Ruth Morgan?" Hope's stern exterior faltered slightly, the thought of them holding Ruth prisoner somewhere in some dank, dark cell like her own made Hope shudder. She only hoped that they found a Kraut doctor to assess Ruth's injured arm, the makeshift sling she had made after the jump was doing very little now to support the injured limb. She hoped Frank had been seen to as well, although she feared he would probably resist any kind of help from a Kraut.

"I believe she is an avid baseball fan. The Boston Braves. Are you a baseball fan, Lieutenant Armstrong?"

How did he know so much? How could he possibly know so much about them?

She knew Ruth wouldn't have uttered a word to him, even if she was scared out of her mind, and Frank would have rather died than told the Germans anything.

"Or what about Frank Martin? He is a baseball fan too? You Yanks and your baseball," Haussmann laughed. It was the kind of laugh that haunted Hope, it was particularly menacing but it chilled her to the core. She swallowed hard, watching as Haussman's lips turned upwards into a smile.

"He did not want to go quietly, your Frank Martin. I'm afraid, put up a fight. The guards sorted him though," Haussmann spoke plainly, flipping through Hope's folder. He stopped on a particular page, chewing his lip thoughtful as though he was going to ask a tough question. Hope felt as though she was in some sort of job interview and the real questions were about to start.

"What about Gale Cleven?" His words hung in the air, frozen in the moment as everything around her seemed to stop. Her Gale. Her beloved Gale who she may never see again.

Haussmann knew he'd struck a nerve with Gale, watching as Hope's face contorted at the thought of him. He picked up a loose photo from the file, turning it towards Hope. It was the photograph taken by the photographer from the night of Dye's party. It was Gale, dancing with her. They hadn't realised the photo was being taken at the time and Gale had been leaning down to kiss her, their lips inches apart when the camera captured the shot.

"Is he the one who gave you this?" Haussmann pulled out Hope's engagement ring that they had confiscated from her on arrival.

"Give that back!" She snapped, lurching from her chair and tried to grab the ring but Haussmann raised his hand in warning.

"He is your fiance , yes? He signs this letter 'Your Gale'. How sweet is it not?" Haussmann's lips formed a malicious smile, his words venomous as he spoke of Gale. "Do not worry, I have no use for your ring. Although I fear you will be missing your wedding very soon."

He tossed it carelessly back at Hope and she quickly slid it onto her finger. "No, I want to know about this Gale Cleven. He is a pilot, with the 100th Bomb Group at Thorpe Abbotts, yes?"

Hope's face must have had confusion written all over it because he picked up Gale's letter, turning the envelope to Hope, "I do love return addresses, don't you?"

Hope continued to stare blankly at him as she had done before. She couldn't let him get under her skin, couldn't let herself give anything away. Her mind seemed to turn over and over and her internal soliloquy of thoughts continued. It felt as though she was speaking out loud and maybe she, maybe that's how he knew so much.

Haussmann continued to press, asking about Gale, about Frank and Ruth, about Thorpe Abbotts and what base they had come from. Hope remained firm, resisting the urge to punch the officer and make a run for it. Her finger dug title into the leather chair, digging the fabric up beneath her short nails.

"I see," Haussmann finally gave up, he wasn't getting anywhere and he knew it. "Well, you have been...somewhat helpful I suppose. Thank you Lieutenant Armstrong, you will go back to your cell now."

The two officers from earlier appeared in the doorway, eyeing Hope with the same matching smiles that Haussmann wore. Those same smiles that would haunt Hope during the long hours spent in solitary confinement with nothing but her thoughts for company.

They yanked her from the chair, ignoring the way she dug her heels in and fought against their advances and hauled her out of the door.

"I look forward to our next meeting, Hope," Haussmann called after her as she was dragged away, her blood boiling at his words.

"I hope I never see you again," she mumbled under her breath, cursing the ground Haussmann walked on.

Upon returning to her cell, the large metal door slammed shut behind her and she was once again left alone in the dimly lit room. She sighed, falling down the stone floor once more, avoiding the rudimentary cot in the corner of the room.

Hope's back remained against the wall, glaring at the riveted, metal door, her eyes training on the small amount of light that came through the crack at the bottom.

The darkness seemed to close around her, making the small glimmer of light shine brighter. The air was cold, clammy against her skin and claustrophobic at the same time. Hope curled up on her side, her eyes remaining on the light, the small glimmer of hope that there was a way out of here.

..............................................................................……….

Hope groaned, rolling over on the cold, hard floor, her hand sluggishly feeling for the cup of water the guard had left on the tray that had been delivered with her daily bowl of soup.

Her throat was sore, raw from the hours she'd spent crying in the corner of her cell, clutching her knees as she rocked herself. The small amount of water did little to soothe it, but she drank it anyway, ignoring the potato soup that sat stagnant in the metal bowl.

She'd eaten it at first, glad of the sustenance but as the days crawled by the food became less appetising, and she began to doubt the RAF pilots from the mess hall.

"You shouldn't be at Dulag Luft too long."

Hope had lost count of how long she'd been stuck here. After her first interrogation, she'd been filled with a fighting spirit. With the return of her engagement ring, there was a return of hope that maybe she would see Gale again after all. Haussman had other ideas and after he called her back into the interrogation room again, asking her the same question, she began to wonder if they'd ever be moved out of their cold, damp cells.

Each time she fought more, resisting the questions, the guards, the regime, to the point that she'd ended up with a black eye and her abdomen felt like she'd been run over by a Dodge ambulance.

Haussman stopped his interrogation after the fifth day and Hope had been left in her own company, other than the guards bringing food and the latrine trip. She wasn't sure what had drawn Haussman to her, or whether he was interrogating all the prisoners like that, but she was glad when she didn't have to see his unsettling grin that only filled Hope with dread.

"You intrigue me, Miss Armstrong. I do not know why but you are different from other American women I have met."

Hope but back the urge to spit back a sarcastic comment but she managed. She didn't want to give him anything he could use against her, or her friends.

"But you will not talk," he sighed, clearly exasperated as he stood from his chair, moving around to Hope's side of the desk. "If you would just talk to me, Miss Armstrong I'm sure we could come to some kind of agreement."

His hand trailed up Hope's arm, causing her to flinch. She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck as he leant forward, whispering in her ear. "You can talk to me, Miss Armstrong. I am your friend."

Hope leapt from the chair, sending it flying backwards and crashing into a filing cabinet.

"I won't tell you anything!" She screamed, throwing herself at Haussman as her fist nearly missed his thin cheek. The guards came rushing in, hearing the commotion and coming to Haussman's aid.

She was thrown to the floor, the but of a rifle slammed into her abdomen. She fell to the floor, wheezing as the air slipped from her lungs. Two arms, wrapped under hers, dragging her from the room. She fought against them, scraping her short nails against their clothed arms, doing very little damage.

She was thrown back into her cell, her heart pounding. She wasn't entirely sure what came over her. How could she be so stupid as to fight back? It was then that she noticed the blood trickling down from her left eyebrow and she noticed the blurred vision in her left eye. Feeling along her cheek bone, she winced at the sudden discomfort. Despite her discomfort she hoped that would be the last time she saw Haussman.

Although being alone with her thoughts wasn't a better option. Sometimes the memories of happier times soothed Hope and she could cling to those memories. Hugh often filled her thoughts, his bright smiling face filling the dark corners of her cell, promising that everything would be okay. Other memories were with Frank and Ruth, their visits to the local pub by the airfield, evenings spent chatting with Ruth, and Frank acting like an older brother.

She wondered if they were even still alive, trapped just like she was. Would she ever see them again?

And then there was Gale...

Memories of Gale should have brought more comfort than most, they had been the happiest days of her life, and yet they always ended with Hope crying herself to exhaustion. Her heart ached in her chest, as though the memories were slowly killing her from the inside.

She stretched out across the floor, her right leg knocking against the rudimentary bed against the back wall. She refused to lay on it, despite the floor causing her bones to stiffen and her muscles to ache. The straw mattress was lumpy, uncomfortable and alive with more insects than Hope cared to think about.

She ran her short nails over the scratches on the concrete floor. She'd ripped her nails off days before, scraping against the door to her cell, clawing away until her fingers bled. The guards had gotten used to her cries, choosing to ignore her until she gradually fell silent. She'd always considered herself a strong person who could withstand tough times but solitary confinement was gradually breaking her down, slowly wearing away at her soul. She felt hopeless. She was going to die here.

She rolled over, facing towards the door where a small crack of light filtered through, casting a light glow over her face. She hadn't seen sunlight in days and the only recognition of the changing hours was the noise around the camp. Hope began to wonder if it was the light from God as if he was calling to her and eventually, she would fade into his heavenly light.

That day didn't come.

A loud commotion in the hallway brought Hope back to her senses, as though she'd been in a daze for the past ten days and finally, she was awake again. The door swung back on its hinges with a loud groan, scraping against the rough floor.

Hope sprung to her feet, clutching her sore abdomen as a guard appeared in the doorway. She raised her hand, squinting at the sudden bright light streaming into the room. Hope had forgotten how dark her cell was.

"Out!"

She shuffled forward, following the guard sheepishly. She recognised him as the one who'd given her the black eye and she knew better than to test his patience again.

Her dark eyes drifted up to meet those of a few other prisoners all being led down the hall. She followed them out of the building, her heart racing as she tried to catch a glimpse of Frank or Ruth. There were several men dressed in Air Force blue RAF uniforms but she didn't recognise any of them.

Her legs felt heavy as they carried her across the muddy, overgrown courtyard. The ground reminded her of pictures she'd seen in a book of the trenches of The Great War. Her right foot slipped in a puddle and she felt her knee buckling beneath her. A strong pair of arms gripped her hips, steadying her against their chest.

She turned, pushing herself away until her eyes found the familiar, kind ones of the man she knew so well.

"Frank?" She whispered, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek, feeling the rough stubble of his cheek grazing her hand. He was here. He was alive.

"Oh, Frank."

Frank didn't utter a word, instead, he pulled Hope flush against his chest, pressing her head beneath his chin as he held her.

Hope hadn't realised that she still had more tears to cry until they began to fall. Her shoulders were wracked with a sob as she clung onto Franks's A-2 jacket, her sore fingers clutching the fabric for dear life. She couldn't believe he was here, he was here.

Frank pushed her away, his hand immediately coming up to run over the bruise that ran beneath Hope's left eye.

"God, Hope! What happened? Who did this?" His face creased with anger, his eyebrows creasing into a hard line. "Did they...they didn't?" His lip quivered as he spoke and Hope knew what he was asking.

Hope shook her head, grasping Frank's hand in hers, "It's okay, they didn't," she gulped back another sob that threatened to spill. "I'm just glad you're alive."

Before Frank could speak again a guard appeared beside them, his hard face glaring at them before he ordered them to move forward.

Hope and Frank joined the line of prisoners that disappeared into a small dilapidated building that Hope hadn't noticed upon their arrival at the camp. The prisoners, all men, seemed to filter through the building, appearing on the other side clean-shaven and looking far less scruffy than before.

Hope froze in the line, realising the guards were expecting them to shower. The thought of having to strip down in front of so many men was more than Hope could bear.

"I can't go in there, Frank, it's the showers...I can't...you can, but..."

Frank cut her off, squeezing her hand tightly, "If you think I'm letting you out of my sight again, Hope, then I'm afraid you're mistaken."

He wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulder, guiding her out of the line and to the other side of the hut. The guards watched but didn't seem to care whether the prisoners were clean or not. Hope wished she could have showered, to wash away the dirt and sweat from the past ten days, but she couldn't.

They moved to join the larger group of prisoners surrounded by guards with dogs, all barking and causing the prisoners to shuffle tighter together. Hope realised then that they were waiting for the train and within a few minutes it chugged into view, blasting smoke into the already damp, grey sky. Its wheels screeched painfully as the locomotive came to a halt in front of the group.

The dogs seemed to sense the change in the situation and began to bark louder, tugging on the ends of their leather leads and jolting their handlers. The shrill shouts from the guards signalled the group to move forward as they were shoved towards the awaiting compartments.

"Move! Go!"

Hope's hand never left Frank's as she felt the crowd of bodies moving as one, all pushing forward with the same common purpose.

A young RAF pilot reached his hand down, helping to pull Hope up into the carriage. She sent him a grateful smile, pleased she didn't have to struggle to pull herself up despite the pain in her abdomen. She in turn helped pull Frank up, abundantly aware that his ribs were still incredibly painful despite him not complaining.

Hope winced as the strong smell of urine and vomit filled her nose once more. Her stomach churned and the nausea bolted in her throat. She wasn't sure whether that was due to her lack of food or the stench from within the carriage but she swallowed back the bile.

Frank led her to the back of the carriage, never once letting go of her hand as they wound their way through the other pows.

Hope glanced at the faces of a few they passed, so many young faces, both English and American alike. She had never seen so many faces so gaunt and lifeless that she felt the small amount of hope that had bubbled when she found Frank diminish.

"Hope, look!" Frank stopped, causing Hope to crash into his back. He raised a shaking hand towards a small figure bundled at the corner of the carriage. The mass of blonde hair was faded and no longer in neat curls but Hope would recognise her anywhere.

"Ruth!"

"Hope! Frank!" Ruth called out, her voice trembling as tears of relief welled in her eyes. She pushed herself up from the corner and hurried over to meet them halfway. When they reached her, Hope enveloped Ruth in a tight embrace, holding her close as if she was afraid to let go.

"Oh, Rue, l've been so worried. I'm sorry," Hope cried. "I'm so sorry. I was supposed to watch out for you, and-"

Pulling back from the hug, Ruth's brows furrowed as tears glistened in her eyes. "Stop. You've got nothing to apologise for. You didn't know they'd separate us."

Frank then pulled her into a tight embrace, careful of both her arm and his still-healing ribs. "You alright?"

"Yeah, just hungry and grimy. But I'm just glad to see you both."

Hope wiped a tear that leaked from her eye and nodded. "Me too."

When even more men climbed aboard, they were pushed back into Ruth's corner and sat down, watching the entrance warily as the rail car became increasingly crowded.

How many prisoners were they going to shove in there?

Before long, there was barely any room to move, and the trio were thankful they sat before the door was slammed shut, plunging them into darkness except for the light shining through the cracks in the wooden slats. Most of the men were forced to stand. The train moved forward with a shrill screech and rumbled on toward its destination. Ruth sat between Hope and Frank, her good hand held tightly by her best friend.

"Were you interrogated?" Frank asked, turning to the girls with a creased brow.

Ruth swallowed thickly, thinking back on her visit with Lieutenant Haussman. "He...uh, tried to get me to talk about John," she said quietly, staring out at the dozens of legs before her. "But I didn't. He did send me to the infirmary, though."

"Really?"

She nodded. "A nurse splinted my arm. It still hurts, but I'm managing. What about y'all?"

Hope didn't meet Ruth's eyes. She was didn't want to talk about her time in the cell, the things she'd thought, the things she'd done.

Frank noticed the uncomfortable look on Hope's face and spoke up. "Well, my ribs are still pretty banged up but Hope's expert bandaging skills are holding me together."

The three chuckled and Hope shot Frank a grateful smile. Even though they sat in pure filth, had no idea where they were being taken, and were struggling with the mental strain of their ordeal, they were together...And that gave them more hope than anything.

...............................................................................………

September 24th, Thorpe Abbott AAF base 09:00

Gale sat, hunched over a steaming mug of coffee in the mess hall, allowing the aroma to waft under his nose. Hopefully it would be enough to keep him awake. His eyelids dropped heavily as he fought against the sleep that tried to envelope him. He hadn't slept properly for over a week, not since the news of the girls plane going down, but yesterday after the letter had arrived he'd spent the whole night sat up in 'Our Baby', rereading the last words that Hope had written. He'd barely seen John, who had also received a letter from Ruth, and Hugh had his own letter from Hope to deal with.

The safety of the cockpit had been inviting and he'd crawled in, shaky hands finding their way to his seat as he calloused. The sob wracking his body shook his whole body, his hands crushing around Hope's letter.

How could this have happened?

His calloused fingers ran over her words.

To my darling Gale,

His chest squeezed, compressing his lungs as he gasped for air, choking on the sob that wracked his body once more.

He could feel her next to him, as if her ghost was always nearby. He could smell the scented soap she used, hear her quiet inhales, feel her hand in his...

While John became closed off and angry after the girls went down, he tried to remain strong for his friend, and for Hugh, but when he was alone...

The picture of Hope was pinned to the plane's control panel. Her dark eyes seemed to shine despite the picture only being black and white. He smiled through the tears at her, enjoying the way she looked snuggled in his arms.

If only he could go back to that moment...or any of the moments with Hope really. The dance, the picnic by the river, his proposal, their first night together, Dye's party. Any of the precious moments spent with Hope would live in Gale's heart forever. That evening he had made a promise to himself, and Hope, to continue the fight.

"Major Cleven? Major Cleven, Sir?"

Gale jumped, his bright eyes shooting up to meet the sympathetic eyes of Helen.

"Major Cleven, I...I have something for you."

Gale sat up straighter, taking a long sip from his black coffee, trying to compose himself before the Red Cross girl could say anything else.

"Here."

She pulled a small piece of white fabric, folded neatly in a square, from her handbag. Gale took the fabric, his fingers running over the familiar white lace and he was instantly transported to that moment just weeks before when Hope had been making. He caught a sneak peak of the dress as she was bent over the sewing machine. The others had all finished up for the afternoon but she'd been so desperate to finish it.

He held her close as she finished the last few stitches, impatiently kissing along her neck and distracting her. She'd scolded him at the time, but he was glad for it now. He would remember every single kiss he could, for as long as he could.

"The rest of the dress I've folded up and given to Hugh to put in your footlocker, but I thought you'd like a piece of it with you."

Gale nodded slowly, thanking Helen who retreated slowly, leaving Gale with his own thoughts once more.

He tried to keep the tears at bay, pushing his chair back and hurrying out of the mess hall. The worried eyes of his fellow crew members following his retreating figure.

Harry sighed, reaching out for Hugh's shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze. Hugh gave him a small, grateful smile. Between Gale and John, he was just trying to keep morale up. It wasn't until he'd received a letter from his grieving parents that everything came crashing down. It had been Harry and Rosie who picked up the pieces, taking it in turns to comfort their friend as his whole world fell apart.

He wanted to be that friend to Gale, he just wasn't sure how.

...............................................................................……

#masters of the air #on a wing and a prayer #hbo war #gale cleven #john egan #gale cleven x oc #hope armstrong #mota #MOTA OCs #John Egan x oc #ruth morgan #two bucks #buck cleven #bucky egan

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