with a whistle the bombs fell from the belly of the mighty b17 bomber, the pilot began turning the bomber back towards england. as the bombers began leaving berlin airspace the flack guns opened up, showering the sky in blossums of black death. the exploding shells rocked the air around them, spraying out shards of silent shrapnel. as young 19 year old tom manned the waist gun, his eyes scanning the skys for the slim shark shapes of the enemy aircraft. suddenly he spotted something, a pair of german fighters descending from the clouds. reacting to the sight and following his training he called out the targets on the intercom of the masive behemoth bomber. taking careful aim he openned fire, spraying streaks of hot lead at the oncoming fighters. all of a sudden, the bomber was rocked violently as a plume of flack exploded beside the cockpit of the bomber. the rocking from the explosion sent the bomber shuddering and toms shots went wide. all of a sudden the intercom crackled...Tom come up here please....Tom released the trigger on the waist gun and began moving towards the cockpit of the damaged bomber. the metal skin of the bomber had been split from the flying shards of shrapnel.

tom arrived at the cockpit door, in the slightly smoky cockpit tom could make out the figure of the captain sitting in his seat, his right arm pinned to his chest. the copilots seat was empty and the copilot was nowhere to be seen. the croaky voice of the captain drifted across to tom...please tom i need you to fly the plane for me, I can talk you through it but i just cant physically do it, please tom the lives of the entire crew are in your hands...tom slid into the copilots seat, listening to the captains voice...tom you need to keep the airspeed up and the wings level...now can you do that son?....tom replied hesitantly...yes I think I can....tom carefully wrapped his hands around the control column and felt the spirit of the plane in the shudderring sticks

slowly the flack began to fade as the shudderring continued...for the next two hours tom fought with the controls, keeping the plane level and fast as the pilot continued giving intructions. slowly the fields of france gave way to the murky blue of the channel. the captian spoke slowly as the damaged bomber crept across the water...now you need to pull back on the throttles so they are at halfway, and let the plane descend to 1000 feet, the airfield is about ten minutes ahead of us, just come straight in, and as soon as you hit the ground kill the engines, and if you have to overshoot for gods sake aim away from the buildings


slowly the long wide strip of the runway came into view. tom eased back on the throttles and began guiding the damaged bomber down towards the ground. the captian was silent as the bombers undercarriage began to extend. tom puilled with all his strength to keep the nose of the damaged bomber up in the air. with a screech the tyres met the concrete. tom hesitated for a second before pulling back on the throttles, and flicking off the engines. for a long moment the crippled bomber rolled down the runway before the front undercarriage gave way with a shriek of ripping, snapping metal. with a crunch the body of the bomber hit the tarmac, sending showers of sparks flying. slowly the metallic monster skidded to a stop at the end of the runway. tom began breathing again...slowly letting his hand release the now limp control column...the sounds of sirens filled the air as the airfield ambulances raced across to the damaged bomber. tom could only sit in the copilots chair as the medics forced their way into the damaged aircraft. the medics hurried into the cockpit and asked is everyone alright?...tom could only whisper....check the captain hes in worse shape than i am......the medics began checking the captians pulse and injuries before saying...im sorry mate but hes dead...tom took a long moment to pause before replying...how can that be he was talking only a few minutes ago.....the medics looked at each other and said in a deep slow voice...im sorry som but you must be mistaken, the captain copped a shard of shrapnel through the heart and would have been killed instantly, and judging by the piece of shrapnel the would have happened over germany....the colour drained from toms face as realisation set in...he quietly responded...but he was talking therefore he was alive....wasnt he?........the end