[World War II] Thousands of Miles in the Sky

"What kind of eyes are you showing to Madam?" Feng Went turned his face and said to Foco.

"It's just a magic trick." Foco shrugged.Wearing a white uniform of the Air Force, he looked like a plant spreading its branches and leaves in the fresh air after the rain, looking refreshed.

"Look at you playing around in your spare time, like a fish in water." Feng Went said with his hands behind his back.

"No way." Foucault said complainingly, "I just got off the North African front, which was half dead in the heat, and immediately ran to the icy and snowy Eastern Front headquarters to see the Order of the Führer. Herr Seschmidt has called to this private party."

"It sounds like you are still very reluctant." Feng Wente said, but his eyes wandered among the crowd, and he did not look at Foko beside him.

"Sir, the progress of the new camp is almost there, but there are still logistical problems. Lidice has been cleaned up, and the Czechs and Jews have taken care of it."

Foco's eyes were attracted by the whispered conversation coming from the side.Two men in black SS uniforms were standing in the corner, the one who had just spoken had his back turned to him.Another person who was facing Foko sideways, wearing a pair of round glasses, replied with downcast eyes:

"Why is there a problem with logistics? Eichmann is free? You are fully responsible for the Auschwitz matter, and you must keep an eye on it. Reinhardt must not relax. Let them know that Heytrich did not die casually." .”

The SS officer who spoke first seemed to chuckle in a low voice, and then said: "If Mr. Heitrich knew that you were the only one chasing the murderer to avenge him after he died, maybe you wouldn't fight against you everywhere when you were alive." .”

"What matters is what counts, Hoss," said the bespectacled officer, shaking his head. "It's one thing for me to fight Heytrich, it's another for the enemy to fight him." Then he seemed to change his voice. The pressure was even lower: "Even if Goering was assassinated, the day after I celebrate, I will massacre the entire village of the assassin."

Foucault was listening intently, and was unexpectedly pushed gently by Feng Wendt: "Why are you staring at Himmler? Look at Goering."

After Feng Wendt finished speaking, he raised his chin, and Foucault looked over, and saw that in the center of the banquet hall, Goering was standing in front of Hitler and Messerschmidt, talking eloquently.Göring propped up his huge body, dancing with his own words. Hitler listened expressionlessly, nodding his head from time to time; Messerschmidt stood calmly under the light with a straight face, The nearly bald head reflects the light.Not far behind him was Goebel, who was chatting with a young man wearing a Hitler Youth Team armband on his left arm.

Gobert wore a dark vertical-striped suit with a trendy pointed placket.He wore a black and white tie with diagonal stripes, a swastika badge pinned to his chest, and a swastika armband on his left arm.He was talking with the serious-looking man in front of him, but he turned his head from time to time, showing disdain to Goring, who had his back turned to him.

Looking at this scene, Foco couldn't help but chuckled quietly.Feng Wente, who was standing beside him, also raised the corners of his mouth slightly, but said in a calm and soft voice, "Why don't you go and save the Führer? If this continues, he will be annoyed to death by that fat man."

Foco suppressed his laughter until his entire upper body trembled slightly. He replied in a low voice, "Goring is my superior. How dare I touch him? Mr. Colonel."

"The world is not as big as the head of state." Feng Wente said, "The air force adjutant of the head of state is here to support you. Are you still afraid of that fat man? Go, I will support you when the sky falls."

Folk stretched out his hands and dusted each other, then walked towards the piano beside him.The dark body of the piano is radiant, and Foco sat on the piano bench, slowly opened the cover, stretched out his hand and gently brushed the ivory white keys, and then put both hands on the keys.

A few hard strokes made the piano's pure timbre echo in the hall, followed by smooth music pouring out. Foucault's slender fingers fluttered between the keys, playing Schumann's No. 3 in F minor sonata.All the guests in the hall stopped talking and looked over.Göring paused, then opened his mouth and was about to continue, but Hitler shifted his gaze to Foko in this brief gap, and then walked towards the piano.Messerschmidt hurriedly followed, leaving Goering on the spot.

"I think Messerschmidt can produce pianos in addition to airplanes in the future." Hitler said with a smile, as if very satisfied.He wore a plain brown suit jacket with an Iron Cross pinned to the left breast pocket.

"You can give it a try." Gobert, who had chased after him at some point, had already stood beside Hitler, and raised the corner of his mouth.

The music is getting better and better, and Foco's performance has changed from crisp and lively to melodious and long.The sound of the piano alternates between two completely different styles, sometimes fast and sometimes slow; the strength of Foco's pressing of the keys is also constantly changing, sometimes sonorous and powerful, sometimes soft and soothing.It was not until more than half an hour later that he played at a faster and faster speed, and gradually strengthened his strength, and finally ended with a few sharp forte notes, and the whole piece came to an end.

Hitler took the lead in applauding, followed by warm applause one after another in the banquet hall.Foco just stretched out his hands to straighten his collar, and straightened the iron cross that resembled a knight with double swords hanging from his neck. Then he covered the keys with both hands, and started playing again.This time it is Morse Ravel's Caspar Suite in the Night.

Foco closed his eyes.There was even a sad look on his face.However, when the song was over, when he opened his eyes again, he had an energetic expression, and there was even a hint of long-lost cunning faintly in his eyes.After playing continuously for more than an hour, he didn't feel tired at all. After playing Beethoven's Fur Alice, he started a new piece.

With swinging grooves, lots of compound chords, and progressively more dominant chords as Foucault apparently improvises, it's clear what style he's playing: American jazz.

The atmosphere in the hall plummeted, and the smiles on everyone's faces disappeared without a trace.Except for Mrs. Goebert, who was covering her mouth and chuckling admiringly.The young man wearing the armband of the Hitler Junior Team was ashen-faced, motionless as if he had froze in place.

"I think everyone has heard enough." Hitler raised his hand and said impatiently.The music stopped abruptly.His expression didn't change much. After speaking, he walked towards a corner of the banquet hall and stopped looking at Foko.Gobert followed behind him.Messerschmidt stood still, looking at Foko thoughtfully.

Foucault closed the piano lid, got off the piano bench and walked over to Feng Wenter.

"You really are not afraid of heaven and earth, boy, you are only afraid of fat people. Lian Yuan dares to tease you." Feng Wente said, looking at Hitler's back.

"You said that you would be there even if the sky fell," Foco replied, "but if the fat man collapses, I'd be afraid of being crushed to death with your support."

"It's a good thing that you are a pilot yourself. The Führer can't put the same tricks on you that you used to deal with Parks." Feng Wente silently raised the corners of his mouth as if thinking of something funny.

"Who?" Folk asked curiously.

"Ernst Poots, that fake American devil who graduated from Harvard," said Feng Wendt. "He's tall and fierce, but he's empty-headed. He's a complete idiot."

"How come I haven't heard of this guy?" Folk said.

"You are too young." Feng Wendt said, "Ten years ago, he has been around the Führer. He is very good at playing the piano, and that is the only advantage. In [-], he annoyed the Führer, and the Führer and Ge Mr. Bell put him in a small plane and said he was going to be parachuted into Red-occupied Spain for a mission."

Foucault had already turned around to face Feng Wendt, who then looked away and turned to look at Foucault: "Actually, the plane has been circling over Germany for several hours. When the pilot lands at Leipzig Airport, that idiot I was so frightened that my legs went limp, and I fled to the United States the next day."

Foco immediately laughed.

"This trick can't deal with you," Feng Wendt said. "It's not bad to be that top-notch pilot. It is said that after Parks found him in the sky over Germany, until he landed, he always thought that the pilot was going to throw him from the sky. go down."

Eighteen

August [-].

Under the dim light, Foco put his right hand on the table, tapped the table with his index finger, and turned sideways, facing the direction of the band.He was wearing a plain dark blue striped suit, a bright yellow square scarf around his neck, and polished leather shoes.Warm stage lights hit the male singer who was singing in front of the microphone.The chamber band behind him played a melodious melody slowly.

"My hometown, your starlight shines on me, even though I am far away. The starry sky is above, telling what I think in my heart, like a lover whispering, gentle and long."

The speed of the accompaniment gradually accelerated, and the singing became lively and brisk.Foco nodded his head up and down to the music, and sang softly with the singer's voice.

"I stand alone in the twilight, my longing for you is hard to express, I want to return to you, my distant hometown, please keep me in your waiting."

"Hayo!"

When Foko turned his head, Illerman had already clapped his hand on his shoulder: "What the hell did you choose? We've been looking for it for a long time."

"It's not an ordinary ghost place." Foco chuckled, "Today is Thursday, and there will be a surprise later."

Illeman pulled out the chair, and after Ursula took a seat, he sat opposite Foco: "What a surprise, it won't be a live swing music, right?"

Foco curled his lips and said, "You've said it all, there are no surprises now."

"Who called you