[World War II] Thousands of Miles in the Sky

Lemann's neck, turned to Stein Schmitt and shouted: "Hans-Arnold, this is my friend Dieter Illermann. Dieter, this is the ace of the second group of the 27th United, Hans-Arnold Steinschmidt."

Illerman nodded awkwardly to Stein Smith, as if it was difficult to connect the person who was still arguing with Fokola just now with the image of an ace fighter pilot in his mind.

"Hello." Steinschmidt responded easily, "By the way, Dieter, next to you is the scourge of the third group of the 27th regiment."

Illerman couldn't help but burst out laughing, but Foko raised his foot as if to kick Steinschmidt.Without waiting for Foko to chase Steinschmidt, who dodged away, Illerman hurriedly said: "Hayo, this is for you." Saying this, he handed over the record in his hand.

Only then did Foco put his arm off Dieter's shoulder, and passed the record wrapped in brown wrapping paper with both hands.

"It's swing music," Dieter said softly.

Foko immediately cheered up, and was about to tear the wrapping paper with his hand, but was slapped on the hand by Stein Schmidt who leaned over: "Don't unpack it here."

Seeing Folk looking at Steinschmidt disapprovingly, Illerman interjected, "It's Ian Hart Bauschke's Amazon."

"New record last month!" Folk yelled.

Without waiting for Illerman to answer, Shenk, who was walking quickly, patted Foko and Stein Schmidt on the shoulders from behind: "It's the beginning."

"Mr. Shenk." Ellerman smiled at Shenk across Foko.

Folk turned to Shenk and asked in surprise, "You know each other?"

"Friends of the family." Schenk shrugged perfunctorily. Seeing Steinschmidt at the side looking at Illerman with a look of sudden understanding, he winked at him, and raised his hand to push him towards the entrance of the concert hall.

Foco had already turned his head to look at Illerman, with a still puzzled expression on his face.Seeing that Shen Ke was about to urge Stein Schmidt to return to his seat first, Foko trotted a few steps around in front of the two, and stuffed the record in Stein Schmidt's arms: "Help me take it back. I don't Then watch it, go out and talk to Dieter."

"Hey, let me bring the contraband for you casually!" Steinschmidt wanted to argue, but was grabbed by Shenk, and Foko took the opportunity to drag Illerman out of the theater.

Berlin has already entered winter at the end of December. The trees on both sides of the road are covered with fine ice, and the roadside is covered with a thin layer of snow.The hustle and bustle of Christmas is over, and there are few pedestrians on the streets of Carlot Fort in the afternoon. When Illerman walked down the stone steps, he couldn't help but curled up his neck and wrapped his coat tightly, but Foco cheerfully left the long trench coat open.Illermann followed him east along Bismarck Street, and soon left the German Opera House with its stone pillars in front of it behind.

"Where are you going?" Illerman looked back at the swastika flag on the top of the opera house, as if he was reluctant to part with the white building, and then turned his head and asked Foucault unwillingly.

"Of course it's Till Park." Folk replied, following the passing cars with his eyes, and asked, "What's up next?"

"No."

"Then come with me for a walk." Foko said, "Go to my house to play at night? It's not far, it's within the Carlot Fort area."

Illerman hesitated, and replied, "Okay."

"How did you come to Berlin?"

"Come...to find you." Illerman said with some embarrassment.

Illerman didn't hear an answer for a long time, so he couldn't help turning his face to look at Foko.The two walked on the winter street, and Foco's boots made a slight muffled sound when they stepped on the smooth road.Illeman, who had an uneasy look in his eyes, saw Foco laughing silently to himself, and couldn't help nudging him with his elbow: "Am I so funny?"

"No." Foco suppressed a smile and said, "I didn't expect you to come to see me. Hey, don't you think that, I told you on the balcony that night in October?"

Illerman turned his gaze around, nodded and said, "That's right, you asked me what was so funny about you."

"Now it's my turn to laugh at you," said Foco contentedly.As he walked, he looked up at the blue cloudless sky, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as if he wanted to inhale all the air washed by the new snow, and then casually looked at the distant sky. He walked briskly forward as if there was no one else around.

Illerman walked silently on the inside of the sidewalk on the left of Foco, listening to Foco humming a melody that seemed to be there, and gradually the previous tension disappeared from his face.Bismarck Boulevard, which used to be noisy in the past, is deserted at this time. Tiny snowflakes drift down and turn into imperceptible tiny water marks when they touch the collar.As far as the eye can see, the scene in front of and around is a quiet silver-covered scene.After walking silently for a while, Illerman spoke again: "You still insisted that you were only 21 years old."

"I was 21 then," replied Foucault, "but I'm 22 now."

Elleman glanced sideways at the man beside him.As always, the corners of Foko's mouth raised a vague arc, looking excited, his slightly long dark brown hair was combed back casually, and the tip of his tail was raised, bouncing up and down with his steps .Inside his open windbreaker is a dark blue uniform, with a pink silk scarf with a polka dot pattern exposed at the neckline, folded a few folds, tied around his neck, and tied in a delicate knot at his throat.A black, white and red ribbon was fastened in the second buttonhole of the jacket.

"I'm really sorry about what happened last time," Illerman said. "I was wrong. I shouldn't have said that to you."

Foco lowered his head and didn't know what to look at, and replied unhurriedly: "Dieter, I'm really sad that you think of me like that in your heart."

Elleman stopped suddenly.Foucault walked a few more steps and realized that Illerman was still there, so he turned back and stood in front of Illerman.The snowflakes flying all over the sky fell on Illeman, and he blinked repeatedly before shaking off the falling snow from his slender eyelashes.He stared at Foco, frowned slightly, his eyes full of solemnity: "I don't think that way. I doubted you, it was my fault. You are not that kind of person."

Folk put his hands in the pockets of his coat, tilted his head, and looked at Elleman carefully.Yileman's youthful and vigorous face now had a resolute expression.

"Hayo," Illerman continued, "you are not only my friend, but also my role model. I have long wanted to be an ace pilot like you and serve my country. I believe you are not someone who would betray a friend. I trust you."

Folk looked relieved, and put his right hand on Illerman's shoulder. "One day," he said casually, gazing into Illerman's amber eyes, "you will stand on a higher ground than me."

eleven

Foucault walked easily along the Bismarck Avenue, and Illerman followed him step by step.

"When is Christmas break?" Folk asked.

"The day after tomorrow." Illerman looked down at the road, "The training will end at the end of January, let's wait for another month."

"That's great." Foco said enviously, "I even made it up to go home this time. If I don't shoot down enough, I will spend Christmas on the battlefield again."

Illerman glanced up at Foco, and asked amusedly, "Do you still have a certain amount of military exploits?"

"That's not true." Foco raised his hand and stroked his hair backwards, "It's just that the old man Nubiger will talk about it, and if it's fake, he probably won't approve it."

Illerman squinted his eyes at Foko in some confusion, and said after a while, "Is it Captain Edward Neuberger?"

"Yeah." Folk replied, "It's annoying to chasing after me all day long."

Illerman laughed out loud: "Duke von Farrell also said that Mr. Nuberger was pissed off by the speed at which you consumed the plane."

"Did he tell you all these shitty things?" Foco scratched his head in embarrassment, "The duke is really... It's all happened in June."

Ellerman didn't answer, just smiled to himself.

Foko paused, and then said: "The captain is a bit long-winded, but he is still very good to me. He has long said, 'Foko is not a problem boy through and through, but a great fighter pilot', so I I made so many mistakes when I first joined the team, but he has always protected me. I don’t make more contributions now, I’m sorry for his old man.”

Before Ellerman could respond, he said to himself again, "Otherwise, he would dig out all those old accounts and settle them one by one, and it would be a disaster..."

"So?" Elleman asked teasingly, "Which one are you, after all?"

"Huh?" Foco, who was still immersed in his own thoughts, showed a puzzled expression.

"Problem boy, or great fighter pilot?"

"Well... both."

Illerman was amused by Foucault's honest answer.He followed Foucault down Schiller Theater Street.Already in his line of sight ahead is the easternmost stop of the Berlin Metro Wilhelmplatz line in the Carlotburg district.The two were walking eastward on the left side of the road. The bleak sunlight in the winter afternoon cast their shadows lightly under their feet. Illerman casually lowered his head to observe his own shadow.Suddenly, his attention was attracted by the sound of stepping on snow not far away.

Illerman raised his head and saw a young man in a hurry coming out of the corner on the right side ahead.He was dressed in a black tailor-made uniform, with a bright eagle emblem on his cap and an equally eye-catching pattern of skulls and skulls.The collar of the jacket is turned inside out, revealing a brown turtleneck shirt and black tie underneath.The buttons of the jacket are white, and the buckle of the black belt is reflective, covering the fifth button of the jacket.A black leather shoulder strap goes around the right shoulder and is buckled on the left side of the belt. The square adjustment buckle is diagonally below the collar, and the bright silver buckle is attached to the black leather strap.