[World War II] Thousands of Miles in the Sky

Looking at Illerman, he burst out laughing.Ursula frowned and winked at him, but he raised his hand to support his forehead and laughed so hard that his whole body trembled.The audience around them also let out small laughs in unison, and there was a commotion in the club for a while.

"Have you ever shed blood for the empire?" Foco asked leisurely, standing in front of the boy.

The teenager looked at Foko, but didn't speak.Although he is young, he has already caught up with Foco, even slightly taller than him, but at this moment he can't help but lower his head slightly.

"Since the Battle of Britain, I have shed my blood and sweat for the German Empire," Foucault said still slowly, "I have participated in hundreds of air battles, but I have fought against more than a hundred enemies. Listen to a few pieces of hometown music at the door. Tell me, is this fair to me?"

"It's not fair." The boy said bravely, "Your contribution to the empire is indelible, and you deserve better treatment."

"I'm relieved to have your words." Foco said, "Otherwise, I'm a complainer, and I might bother my old classmate who works at No. [-] Prince Ebericht Street someday. .”

The boy's face turned pale.

"It's so late," Foko said, raising his hand and stroking his hair, "I won't waste your time anymore. We have to have a good chat when we have time some other day. Time flies, and I have been away from the team for six years. "

"Excuse me, Mr. Folk." The boy said hastily, then turned around and waved his hands, and the boys who had been neatly lined up by the walls on both sides of the door just now followed him out as they had come.

"Hayo!" shouted the male singer on the stage, waving his hand at him, "You can order the next song as you like."

"Top of the World by Otto Stanz!" Foucault yelled back.

"It really is authentic 'Aryan light music'!" The singer laughed loudly, and then moved the clarinet to his lips.

As soon as Folk walked back to the table and sat down, Illerman couldn't wait to say, "It's really you."

"After all these years of being in trouble," Folk said with a chuckle, "it's going to be terrible if you don't tell lies anymore."

"Where is [-] Prince Eberichterstrasse?" Ursula asked.

"Huh?" Folk said with a little surprise, "You are not from Berlin, you don't know. Gestapo headquarters. It is said that there is a secret cell in the basement."

"Do you really know someone there?" Illerman asked curiously.

"Of course." Foco said with the corners of his lips curled up, "I'm afraid he is the person with the worst relationship with me among the people in my class."

Illerman couldn't help showing a knowing smile.

"You are Mr. Folk of the 27th Regiment."

Foco turned his head to see an uninvited young man standing behind him.The man took a step forward and walked to the table. His figure, which was originally in the dark, was exposed under the light, revealing a neat air force uniform.He held a glass of cocktail in his hand, and the Iron Cross badge hanging from the buttonhole on his chest reflected the harsh light, which matched the swastika badge on his collar.

"The 53rd Regiment 'Spades', Walter Stonefur." ​​After the man introduced himself, he nodded slightly to Illerman and Ursula, then turned his gaze back, staring down at Foco condescendingly, saying every word. He paused, "If I remember correctly, Kide quit the party as early as three or four years ago, right?"

Illerman was about to jump up, but Foco grabbed his wrist at this moment, turned his head and said to Stoner, "You know a lot about swing music."

"I'm from Hamburg." There was an inexplicable smile on the corner of Stoner's mouth, "In the past two years, the Gestapo has encircled and suppressed illegal gatherings several times, and sent the rioters to concentration camps. I still know which music is within the scope of the strike. .”

"I don't know why you came to Berlin today?" Folk rested his chin on one hand leisurely, looking up at Stonefur.

"Come to visit my girlfriend's grandmother." Stoner turned his head towards the direction to signal, and the woman sitting alone at the table not far away smiled at the few people looking over.

"Do you like Berlin?" Foucault asked.

"Although it is not obvious, it still has a Weimar legacy." Stumpf said, "This kind of club that uses ordinary pop music as a cover and turns to swing music when the time comes secretly, I only heard it in Hamburg in the early years. I don’t want to have the misfortune to meet me today.”

Foco didn't answer, but just looked at Stonefur with a smile on his face.

"Since the Battle of Britain, you have shot down more than half a hundred people against Britain, which is really amazing." There was a hint of intriguing contempt in Stonewell's long and narrow eyes, and a bit of coldness on his high nose, "Thanks to you from the Eastern Front. Transferred to North Africa. This kind of arrogance against the British Empire is simply a breath of anger for the whole of Germany."

"I'm just following the mobilization of the organization. Obeying orders is the bounden duty of a soldier." Foucault said, "Whether the enemy is from the Commonwealth, the French Free Army, or the United States or the Soviet Union, it makes no difference to me."

"It's not the same, Mr. Folk." One corner of Stonever's mouth rose, "Conquest against Russia is not a matter of right and wrong; a tooth for a tooth, an eye for an eye; it has nothing to do with love or hate, regardless of love and hatred; stick to the Wei River and never let it go Fushan."

He puffed up his chest as he spoke, and began to recite aloud. His cadenced bass was impassioned, and for a while his momentum overwhelmed the live performance: "My virtue has hatred, and this hatred is unparalleled! The whole country loves and the whole country hates; my virtue has enemies, This enemy is unparalleled! When you make an oath here, the oath is firm; this hatred will never be forgotten, and it will be passed on from generation to generation! This hatred is in the heart; this hatred crosses the sea; , we cannot live together!"

"Good!" Folk said loudly, applauding loudly, "Ernst Rissel's poems are at his fingertips, and Mr. Stoneover really has a sincere patriotic heart!"

"It's not that I'm conceited," said Stoneford, his eyes locked on Foko. "'Spades' may not be as famous as 'North Africa' in the 27th Regiment, but I have served in the Third Squadron for several years. Although you were young, you also know how to be loyal to the country and not ask for anything in return. Since you are the number one trump card on the North African front, you don't know how great an example is. In terms of emotion and reason, you should take the lead and lead a good example in terms of life style. Good head."

"People are not plants, Mr. Stoneford." Foco looked back at Stonefur, and said indifferently: "Although I am a good pilot, I am not perfect. You know, our goal is a thousand-year empire, but Rome is not a one-day empire." Our generation is nothing more than laying the foundation for the future, and it is impossible for everyone to be perfect now. Since we want to temper a new and stronger German nation, we must admit our shortcomings at this time: if we want to be a nation If a nation wants to do this, everyone must be unreserved. If you want to use a one-size-fits-all standard to measure everyone among them, isn’t it following the way of the Weimar period? You are right The party’s proposal of the principle of equal status and different responsibilities for all people runs counter to the spirit of unremitting struggle mentioned by the head of state in "Mein Kampf"?"

Stoner frowned slightly, looking at Foko with a complicated expression.Before he could answer, Foucault went on to say: "The Gestapo's raids on swing clubs are of course not a waste of our taxpayers' money for superficial efforts, but for fear that young people who do not have the ability to identify themselves will be polluted by Western culture. .Do you think I don't look like I can distinguish right from wrong? Doesn't my experience on the battlefield prove that I am more capable than ordinary people? Besides, during the war, the private style of the combatants was relaxed. This kind of independent person is even more discretionary. Don't you think that under the leadership of the head of state, these regulations are very reasonable?"

Under Foco's eloquence, Stoner unconsciously clenched the goblet in his hand: "Mr. Foco, although you and I are not on the same battlefield, we can still empathize with others. I can imagine how busy you are on weekdays. You While rushing to the front line, there is still time to study the guiding spirit of the above in detail," he narrowed his eyes slightly, "it's unbelievable."

"To be honest," Foko said with a smile on his lips, "I don't have a very deep understanding of Nazi ideas. What I just talked to you about was told to me by a friend of mine who is an SS officer."

"You really can't tell what you look like." Stoneford seemed to be crushing the wine glass in his hand, his knuckles were white, and a pair of iron blue eyes were fixed on the silk scarf around Foko's neck, "You I have friends here, so it's inconvenient for me to disturb you any more. Farewell."

He didn't look at anyone at the table anymore, he just turned around sharply, turned around and walked away.

Foco was still resting his chin on one hand, watching Stoner's leaving back and sniggering silently, with the other hand resting on the table, tapping the middle finger and ring finger on the table lightly.

"Dieter," he called softly.

"Huh?" Illerman replied as if he had just recovered from his stupefaction.

"Change it, since you don't like the music," said Foucault.

Without waiting for Illerman to reply, Foco stood up on his own, and walked out while talking: "I'm so tired and exhausted when I always talk like this."

"Look at what you've done," Úrsula said in a low voice as she got up.

"What am I doing again?" Illerman asked in surprise.

"It's fine if you don't like to hear it, but you have to say it." Ursula complained, "How could you