[World War II] Thousands of Miles in the Sky

Met unusual people on occasions; people are divided into groups, I believe this shows that you will never be a mediocre person who does nothing--on the contrary, given time, you will definitely have extremely outstanding achievements.I never doubted your potential.Ever since I saw your flying talent when you were 14 years old, I have long believed that you will become a great talent in the future.

You mentioned in your last letter that when you and Haryo last met, Walter Stoffer, the Pilot of the Spades United, whom you ran into in the suburbs of Berlin, I went to track down his whereabouts on a whim.This man is indeed the number one ace of the No. [-] Spade Squadron, and the record of shooting down has never been broken by anyone in the No. [-] Squadron. Unfortunately, he was shot down by anti-aircraft artillery on October [-] last year and died for his country.I know you don't have a good impression of him, and he and Hayo also had some friction; but after several years of fighting in the battlefield, no matter how outstanding your military exploits are, no matter how aggressive you are, in the end it's nothing more than a pile of yellow dirt.The dead are the greatest, I hope you will stop holding grudges against him.

Speaking of Haryo, not long ago I met Captain Werner Schroer of the 27th Wing "North Africa", the squadron leader of the 27nd Squadron; he and Haryo were never in the same squadron, but met at the [-]th Air Force Academy friends.He told me that after Hans-Arnold Steinschmidt and Hayo, the close friends of the North African Wing, were killed in succession, their morale was greatly frustrated, so they were transferred to the Sicilian battlefield; Three people, now only Mr. Schroer is left.Haryo's former wingman, Mr. Karl Kugbauer, also died in a mission.

Fortunately, Mr. Schroer not only uses the deflected shooting that Haryo is proud of, but also excels in shooting down rate, and has the momentum to catch up with Hayo in this respect.However, the glory that belongs to the North African United is running out.It is sad to say, but the unshakable and important strategic position of the North African battlefield no longer exists; there will no longer be a second Haryo Siegfried Foko in the world, and it will no longer be only the West who directly confronts British and American pilots. front and the North African battlefield.In fact, in my opinion, the situation is not optimistic: on the Eastern Front, sooner or later you and I will fight the Americans in the air.

As for the matter of your younger brother Adbet, I think there is nothing to worry about.The British, unlike the Soviets, were bound to treat prisoners of war well.Mr. Schroer even told me that from time to time the British would broadcast radio programs to troops stationed in North Africa (Minister of Propaganda Goebel also used the same trick to broadcast swing jazz adaptations with English lyrics to British troops; these programs were strictly prohibited in principle. The Germans listened, but according to Mr. Schroer, there were many violations of this rule in the North African regiment, first of all Hayo), including the list of prisoners.From time to time, the names of soldiers who have been declared dead by the Nazi Party authorities appear, and many of them have family members who have held funerals for them.As long as Adbet is not seriously injured in the forced landing, he will definitely survive the war, so please rest assured.I am not reassuring you indiscriminately, but I have solid evidence to support my inference.

In addition, you wrote in your last letter that I was very interesting about the aristocratic man you met at the party.The proud ace of night fighter pilots, also called a prince by others, I think his identity is obvious: Prince Heinrich Sack-Schleves.On this point, I have the same opinion as the people on the Eastern Front that you have already consulted. This person must be Prince Sakern-Schlieves. He conspired to assassinate Hitler, I am afraid that apart from the prince, there is no second person in the Air Force.It is inconvenient for me to say more about this, at most I can only say it face to face when I see you next time.In short, this prince is well-known, and he is also one of the best in the history of night air combat. He is a respectable pilot anyway.

What exactly he said to you, you didn't mention in detail, so I can't guess.But judging from your next paragraph, if I understand correctly, he roughly mentioned contact with the Soviet aristocrats.The treatment of Soviet prisoners of war that you have thus induced, I think you can have a clear conscience for what you have done.The enemy army is like ordinary people with flesh and blood, if we are not against them, it is not impossible to call friends with them.It's just that the soldiers are not only comrades, but also fight each other, and each is loyal to the country. This has been the case since ancient times, and no one can do anything about it.

Take care.

I will leave the pen here.

Friedrich-Carl Schenk

Air Force 53 Wing "Spades"

Tunisia, [-] August [-]

26

March [-].

"No, have another drink!" Bachofen yelled, holding up the whiskey glass in his hand, grabbing Illerman's collar with one hand, and making a gesture with the other to pour wine into his mouth.

"I really can't drink it." Illerman dodged quickly, waved his hands desperately, and showed Kupinski's eyes for help.

"It's over, Gernhardt, don't bully the children by cheating on the old." Kupinski said, taking the wine glass from Bachofen's hand.

"You also speak in the same tone as those four people in Karaya." Bachofen leaned back in the seat dejectedly, "You are only one year younger than me, and you talk like I am seventy or eighty years old every day."

"Pilots are elected every two years, and I am half a year younger than you." Kupinski shrugged. The time is getting shorter and shorter, and I am afraid that the replacement will be faster and faster in the future."

Bachofen snatched the glass from Kupinsky's hand again, and fell on his back.

"Kid," Kupinski leaned forward towards Illerman, "be careful that Gernhardt gets too drunk and goes crazy, and stay away from him when the time comes."

"Stop talking nonsense." Bachofen mercilessly picked up a bottle cap on the table and threw it at Kupinski, "Dieter is only two years younger than you, do you really think he doesn't understand anything? He has shot down to the top and sent observers to fly in his formation. I haven't seen the shooting down record so fast in so many years! This guy has a lot of drinks with Muller every day and in the field. When he is with us, he will be happy. Don't drink this little wine, do you think he is biased and lacks loyalty?"

"Erich can't drink as much as you do," Illerman said with a wry smile, "I think I'll finish drinking the next season's wine today."

"Stop talking nonsense," Bachofen yelled, "If you are a brother, let's have another drink! I don't believe that you can shoot down two hundred Soviet planes, but you can't drink this drink!"

Kupinsky patted the table and said with a serious face: "Gernhardt, children don't want to be brothers with drunks like you, so you better not force others. Since he was my wingman in the past, naturally he is now I disdain to be with you."

Illerman couldn't help laughing, instead he picked up the wine bottle on the table and poured himself a glass. He raised his glass and said, "It's rare to have a holiday. If you want to drink, I'll stay with you till the end!" He drank it all in one gulp.

"That's right!" cried Bachofen, slapping the table, and turning to Kupinski, shouted: "Look, the boy has more friends than you, Prince!"

"Did I drink less?" Kupinski frowned, reached out and snatched the wine bottle in front of Illerman, and knocked several empty bottles of spirits on the table, clanging and rattling, "Come on Come, see if I can drink you today?"

"Afraid you won't make it?" Bachofen immediately picked up the two wine glasses on the table, moved them to Kupinski, and waited for Kupinski to pour the wine.When he took back one of his wine glasses and drank it down, he turned to Illeman and said, "Son, tell me, how about you just get rid of that observer next time? There is such a manual counter hanging every day. Flying around, you don't feel tired!"

"How can that be done," Illerman said ironically, "If the commissioner's confirmation is not obtained, the shooting down is not in vain."

"Oh," Bachofen nodded as if suddenly realized, "Yes!" After finishing speaking, he turned around and slapped the table at Kupinski and shouted "Drink!"

Illerman looked at the laughing companions in front of him, couldn't stop laughing, but looked out the window at the ever-moving scenery.With the arrival of early spring, the lush greenery in the Bavarian mountains is particularly beautiful.The rattling sound of the wheels touching the track was constantly heard, and the train occasionally passed a place with a wide view, and the green sky was set against the emerald green mountains, and a panoramic view of the beautiful mountains and rivers could be seen.

The train slowly entered the station, and there were already a few green leaves on the front windows of the two black cars parked under the platform.A man in an air force uniform was wandering on the platform, while two young men in black military uniforms standing beside him waited eagerly. Seeing the train entering the station, they hurriedly stood on both sides of the door one by one.

The door opened, but no one came out.The man in the air force uniform was already standing in front of the car door, with his arms crossed, his eyes under the clean officer's cap were covered by the shadow of the brim of the cap.

Finally, there was a sound from the car door, and soon a young man in an air force uniform showed his head, with an officer's cap slanted on his head, and Lang Lang staggered out of the car.The man in black who was waiting at the side quickly took the suitcase in his hand.Immediately following the other two who got on and off the carriage and got off in similar clothes, the three stood unsteadily in a row. The leader raised his right arm and shouted: "Heil Hitler! The other two raised their right hands one after another and shouted: "Heil Hitler! "

"You are..." The man in front of them was full of astonishment, looking back and forth at the three disheveled people who were supporting each other, "How much did you drink?!"

"How did Mr. Adjutant know we were drinking?" one of them asked in surprise.

"Nonsense!" the adjutant roared angrily, "It's only five meters away.