[World War II] Thousands of Miles in the Sky

Hash raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah." Ellerman replied.

Hohash was silent for a moment, and asked, "How are you doing in the eastern reserve team?"

"It's okay," Illerman said.

"Are you asking for leave for such a trivial matter?"

Illerman raised his head, and his tone was aggrieved: "The officer took the initiative to give me a fake one. I took the telegram from Haryo's mother reporting the death, and—"

"It's such a small matter," Hohash repeated word by word, "you're going to the front line?"

Illerman bit his lower lip and didn't reply.

"If you didn't lose your soul," Hohash said, "can I give you leave for no reason? Who doesn't often have friends sacrificed in wars! Have you been flying in a mess these two days?"

Ellerman nodded slowly.

"Do you know where to turn next?" Hohash asked again.

"Western Front," Illerman replied, "the 52nd."

"It's a good place." Hohash said, "You have a good foundation, and you should be able to make a lot of difference in the 52nd regiment."

There was a short silence.Hohash's light brown eyes, like the pupils of a wolf, looked at Illerman coldly.Illerman looked at the ground uneasily, his hands twisted between his spread legs.

"I know I'm doing something wrong," Illerman whispered, "but when I heard the news of his death, I really can't bear to go back to Berlin."

"When you go back to Berlin, what can you see?" Hohash said, "Isn't he buried in North Africa?"

"Yes," said Illerman, "you have heard that, too."

"Of course," Hohash replied, "he is the number one ace on the North African front."

"I want to see his mother," said Illerman, "but she said it's not convenient these days."

"I don't want to see other people's sons live like dragons and tigers," Hohash said.

"Originally, he was going to get married on Christmas, and he asked me to attend the wedding." Yileman murmured, "I didn't expect that even Star of North Africa..."

"Dieter," Hohash said in a deep voice, "During the war, everyone who went to the front line lived a bloody life. We pilots are no exception."

Illerman turned to look at Hohash.Hohash still had a slightly tired expression, but there was an indescribable determination in his eyes.

"Haven't you thought about it, Dieter?" Hohash said.His voice was low, but his tone was patient, without the slightest hint of reproach: "We are not simply flying planes, at least not these years. We are fighting! Everyone on German soil, from workers to Students, from merchants to soldiers, we are at war! Every German in the world, whether at home or abroad, at the rear or at the front, we are at war!"

Yileman stared blankly at Hohash, waiting eagerly for him to speak.

"The world doesn't revolve around you alone, Dieter," Hohash said, "and it doesn't revolve around Haryo Foko. We are soldiers, and everything must come first for the country. I ask you, you Why join the Air Force?"

"I..." Illerman looked at Hohash, but did not continue.

"You are for this land, for the compatriots on this land," Hohash said, tapping heavily on the coffee table with his fingertips, "willing to sacrifice yourself, your youth, your children's affair, and even Your life will save the next generation from having to live in such a hasty life! Let thousands of other Germans no longer part with their friends and relatives, and no longer have countless heroic souls buried in other lands!"

Yileman looked at Hohash, his eyes suddenly turned red.He lowered his head, covered his eyes with his right hand on his forehead, and whimpered, "I was wrong, Mr. Hohash."

"I know you like Foko." Hohash straightened up and leaned on the back of the sofa chair, "but you don't know him. Although I don't know him, I also know that all German soldiers are not Joining the army for yourself, not living for yourself. There are many things you don’t understand now, but you will understand when you have truly charged at the front line.”

Ellerman didn't make a sound, but still covered his eyes with his hands, and nodded.

"What Foco couldn't do, you have to do it for him. The final victory that Foco couldn't see, you have to see for him." Hohash said, standing up.The tea in front of him was cold, but he never touched it, "You're still a man, go back to the front line tomorrow!"

"Yes, sir!" Illerman stood up abruptly and gave a military salute to Hohash.

"Next time I see you," Hohash bent down and picked up the gloves on the coffee table, put them on, and walked out, "You better be a famous trump card on the Western Front! Otherwise, don't Appear before my eyes again!"

"I see, Mr. Hohash." After Illerman finished speaking, he raised his right arm to Hohash's back, "Heil Hitler!"

Hohash turned around, and on the wall beside him was a poster of the Nazi Flying Association.It depicts a man like a classical statue. He is bare-chested, exuding golden light all over his body, with a huge swastika pattern on his chest, and a pair of proudly outstretched wings behind his raised arms.

"Heil Hitler!" Hohash raised his black-gloved right hand and replied.He opened the door and walked out. When he closed the door again, he turned and said softly, "There's no one here all afternoon. If you want to cry, just cry."

October [-], [-].

Two Messerschmitts passed through the thin clouds over Soldatskaya one after the other, and the black swastika was particularly dazzling in the surrounding clouds.The golden sun shines on the silver-white wings, casting dazzling reflections.A Palikpov in front seemed to be a frightened bird, suddenly increased its angle of attack, and rolled down out of the shooting range of the two Messerschmidts.The Messerschmidt in the back row followed without hesitation and left behind the front plane, and also pushed down one wing.

"Idiot!" Maziaz yelled from the earphones, "What the hell are you doing?! I'm the leader of the plane! Believe it or not, I'm going to beat you down now?"

"Sorry sir!" Illerman called over the radio, hastily steering the plane back to Maziaz's tail.

"Stop talking to me, sir!" Maziaz replied unceremoniously, "Watch your own tail, otherwise your mother will be very sorry!"

Before Illerman could respond, there was a faint chuckle on the radio.

"Who!" Maziaz yelled, "Who of you is so free, listening to the radio in broad daylight? Watching jokes? It's so beautiful, if you have the ability, come up and watch it yourself!"

"I'm sorry, Captain!" A young voice came from the radio, "I'm Muller the Mechanic. I'm afraid you have to do this kind of thing yourself. Anyway, I don't know how to fly a plane!"

Maziaz gave a "bah" and said into the radio: "What to do, we are at war! Be serious! You think it's a joke!"

The mechanic chuckled a few more times on the radio before falling silent.Illerman didn't speak into the microphone again, but flew silently and cautiously behind the tail of Maziaz's plane, and followed him back in the direction of the camp.

24

As soon as Illerman climbed out of the cockpit, he heard Maziaz complaining loudly: "This kid is not worried at all! He doesn't obey orders and flies around by himself, just like the one before! That guy What is it called, the one that makes Hasohov jump every day?"

Gernhard Bachofen, who had already come to help Illermann jump off the wing, suppressed a smile, kept shaking his body, and stared at Illerman meaningfully.

"Laugh if you want," Illerman said gruffly.

"I'm not laughing at you, really." Bachofen said, "When new pilots first arrive at the front line, they are more or less like this. You're not bad at all. I've even seen my lead plane almost shot down for the first time in actual combat. of."

Ellerman couldn't help showing a smile at this time, and Bachofen even bent over laughing while clutching his stomach.

"Yes, it's that Foko." Maziaz's voice came, "This kid is just like the one named Foko back then!"

"Focco?" Illerman suddenly stopped laughing and asked.

"You don't know?" Bachofen said, "Pilots who were in the same class as us transferred to North Africa within a few months of staying in the 52nd Wing. They were quite famous later on."

"I know," Illerman said.He lowered his head and waited for a moment before continuing quietly, "He's one of my best friends."

"You guys know each other?" Bachofen asked incredulously, "What's going on?"

"I've admired him since I was an Air Force cadet," Illermann said. "Acquainted in Berlin. Last October."

"It's been a whole year now." Bachofen also put away his smile, "It's a pity that he passed away last month. He is a very talented pilot." Without waiting for Illerman to answer, he added: "Although it is really It's disturbing."

Illerman opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by others: "Gernhardt!"

A young man in a pilot uniform suddenly ran up to the two of them, holding a little white dog in his arms: "I've been looking for you for a long time. Hurry up, come to play cards?"

He didn't finish his sentence, as if he had just discovered the existence of Illerman, and shouted at him again: "Damn it, have they sent middle school students to the front line now?"

"I..." Ellerman looked at Bachofen in bewilderment.

"Gunther, this is the new pilot Dieter Illermann," Bachofen said, "from Württemberg in [-]."

"How the hell does he look like he's 20 years old? Look at him, he has delicate features, and he looks like he's only [-] or [-] years old when he's killed." The visitor shook his head vigorously, and then immediately said, "My name is Gunther. Raul, you can call me Gunther. I'll call you Kid