[World War II] Thousands of Miles in the Sky

It's not for nothing for so many years, ordinary women can't get into his eyes at all. "

"I don't think you're worse than him," Illerman said.

"Huh?" Foco asked a little surprised, "Do you even know that I slept with that female celebrity?"

"Everyone in Berlin knows about it," Illermann replied.

Foco, however, didn't seem to understand the sarcasm in his words at all, curled his lips, and suddenly pulled Illerman away.

"What are you going to do?" Illerman asked, following Foucault through the crowd.

"Look at the moon." Foco replied without looking back.

four

Foco led Elleman up the stairs to the corridor on the second floor, and pushed open a door familiarly.He walked around the big bed in the middle of the room, and the sound of leather shoes knocking on the wooden floor echoed in the empty bedroom.Illerman hesitated at the door, looked around at Zhou, and followed.Foko went straight to the balcony, and as soon as he opened the curtains, the moonlight surged in through the French windows like a tide, submerging the entire room.He pushed open the door to the balcony, stepped out and leaned against the railing.As soon as Yileman pushed aside the window screen blown by the night wind and stepped out the door, he stared at the night sky in a daze.In the suburbs of Berlin at night, a full moon shone faintly in the sky, and the music from downstairs could be faintly heard, but there was a kind of quiet beauty.

Illerman took a deep breath slowly, enjoying the unique taste of the night, and walked to Foko, whose back was turned to him.

"Beautiful," Folk said.He took a sip of the cocktail in his glass and stared intently at the full moon shrouded in dim light.

"Pretty." Harman nodded.

Foko put one hand on the guardrail and tapped softly, as if he was in tune with the barely audible music downstairs.The sound of the cello recorded in the vinyl record is melodious and melodious, and the full and beautiful notes are captivating. Against the backdrop of the moonlight, it seems that time and space are integrated, leaving only eternity.

"...It's as if there are only two of us left in the world." Foco said, smiling and turning to look at Illerman.Illerman noticed his gaze, and looked back at Foko; he raised his eyebrows habitually, his light hazel eyes had a little green in them, and his wide eyes made his already handsome face look younger.Foco stared straight into Illerman's eyes unceremoniously, as if he was delving into some puzzle, and asked after a few seconds:

"how old are you?"

"Nineteen," Ellerman replied.

"You look up to 17 years old." For some reason, Foco looked smug, curling the corners of his mouth.

Illerman raised his glass and took a sip. After swallowing, he paused and said slowly, "I know you're only 22 years old."

"Not yet," Foucault corrected. "I'm only 21."

Illerman seemed to find it funny that Foco was arguing, and couldn't help laughing watching him.With one hand resting on the railing in front of his chest and the other hand holding the wine glass, he suddenly raised his head and poured all the contents of the glass, then raised his hand and threw the glass wine glass far away.There was a sound of falling and breaking in the indisputable darkness.

Foco immediately laughed too: "I'm really not 22 years old. My birthday is in December. If you don't believe me, you can read my driver's book." After speaking, he drank the remaining wine in his glass in one gulp , Throwing the goblet out.Hearing the sound of glass breaking, he laughed uncontrollably as if hearing the funniest joke in the world.

Illerman first supported his forehead with one hand, and looked at Foko sideways, but his shoulders kept shaking from laughing, and finally he just lay down on the railing and buried his head in laughter.Foco tried to stop several times, but couldn't help laughing when he tried to speak.

After a few minutes like this, Foco gradually stopped laughing, propped his elbows on the guardrail, and quietly looked at Illeman beside him.The frequency of shoulder and back twitching also gradually decreased, and finally raised his head, let out a long breath, turned his head and saw Foco staring at him, a smile appeared on his lips again, and he wanted to bury his head again.

"Enough." Foco kicked Illerman's calf lightly, "Am I funny?"

"No." Elleman replied with a forced smile.

Folk rested his chin on one hand, tilted his head to look at Illerman, and began to tap lightly on the guardrail with the other hand.

"Dieter," Folk asked, "why do you want to be a pilot?"

"Aren't you the same as everyone else?" Illerman said indifferently, "I think fighter pilots are very handsome."

"The Red Baron?" Folk laughed.

"Of course." Illerman turned around, leaned his back against the railing, and looked up at the moon.

"I like Captain Kurt Woolf better," Folk said. "He's a pretty great guy."

Illerman turned his head to look at Foko, and asked with some surprise: "Was it the one who was shot through with his right hand and was able to control the plane back to land smoothly with one hand, and then died for his country at the age of 22?"

"Yeah," Folk said, "and his last battle was to attack the entire formation of the enemy army voluntarily, and he was not attacked by the opponent first. I remember that very clearly."

"But you don't want to be like the Red Baron?"

"Of course I want to. Why wouldn't I want to." Foco replied.

Ellerman showed what seemed to be a puzzled expression.

"I'm not interested in commanding operations." Foco leaned on the guardrail, lowered his head, and looked down at the ground two floors below. I don’t even know what I want my wingman to do.”

Illerman stared at Foko fixedly, as if lost in thought.

"I'm not a good pilot. When I think that other people in the establishment believe in me with their lives and obey my orders, I can't give orders. Their lives are too expensive and heavy, and I can't afford them."

Foco closed his eyes.He took a deep breath, opened his eyes again, and continued:

"The Battle of Britain on August 24 last year was the first time I had a real one-on-one air battle. My opponent was very strong and experienced; I fought with him for 4 minutes until I had a 180-degree emergency Turned up and climbed, took advantage of the altitude, and then dived and fired; I hit the bandit's engine. The plane fell from the sky and fell into the English Channel. Immediately more bandits appeared above me, so I took I dived down at an extremely steep angle, pulled up the nose a few meters from the sea surface, flew close to the water surface, and avoided the enemy's machine gun fire. No one followed me, so I returned to Leeuwarden just like that.

"But back at the barracks, I was tossing and turning all night. I wrote to my mother: 'Today I shot down my first enemy. But I don't feel joy. I think about that fighter again and again. The scene of falling into the channel and disappearing from my view; I can't help thinking how sad a mother must be when she receives the news of the death of her young son. And I, I killed her son.'

"I hope that pilot survives. But even my closest comrades in the [-]nd Teaching Squadron told me, 'Hayo, this is war. There is no way.' They all thought I was crazy ...I knew I had to go out of my way to shoot down every enemy I saw, and even kill them. But that didn't stop me from feeling bad in the dead of night."

Illerman wanted to say something, but when he opened his mouth, he had nothing to say.He moved the corner of his mouth, but still made no sound.After a long time, he stretched out his hand and covered Foco's hand that was still holding on to the guardrail, but had already stopped beating.

Foko took a deep breath, turned his head and hooked the corner of his mouth at Illerman, and let out a long breath.He raised his hand, and when he saw Elleman immediately took his hand away, he stretched out his hand to hold Elman's retracting hand.Illerman didn't move, but looked down at his left hand which was clenched by Foco, and then looked up into Foco's eyes.Folk's light brown eyes were fixed on Illerman too.

"If there hadn't been a war," he asked, "what would you like to do, Dieter?"

"Fly a plane," Illerman replied without thinking.

Foco nodded slightly, showing a sincere smile: "Me too."

五

November [-].

The empty blue sky.The dark brown fuselage suddenly lowered its nose, rushing unstoppably towards the ground.Soon, the head was pulled up again and climbed upwards; after returning to the original height, the nose was flattened, gliding for a while, and then the right wing was slowly raised, and the whole fuselage was erected, and the wing was perpendicular to the ground dived down again.After passing a certain distance in the air, the nose of the aircraft was raised again, and while it was climbing, it kept increasing the angle with the ground.With the rise of the fuselage and the higher elevation of the nose, the entire plane began to fly vertically upwards in a short while, and then the cabin turned upside down, drawing a long arc backwards, and then dived again. Completed a full circle flight of 360 degrees in a vertical circle.The plane didn't give up, and drew two vertical circles in the air before it stabilized and flew forward slowly.

After a short while, it slowly raised the right wing.This time, the right wing was continuously raised while the plane was moving forward at the same height until it turned over horizontally, and then continued to rotate around the fuselage to complete a full round of roll.After doing this three more times, it began to fly obliquely upwards, while constantly rotating the fuselage, like a ballet dancer, dancing recklessly in the cloudless sky.After climbing to a sufficient height, it took only a few seconds to return to normal flight. The brown plane couldn't wait to perform a 180-degree roll. At the same time, it changed its altitude and flight direction.After doing all this, this small plane that showed its talents reluctantly flew down, getting closer and closer to the ground, and finally landed steadily on the tarmac.