Ollie returned to the gunner, the man’s eyes closed, bloodied spit oozing from his mouth. He checked the gunner’s pulse. A weak beat. Ripping open the first-aid kit, he pulled out the largest bandages. He unzipped the man’s flight jacket to a strong copper smell and immediately realized that things were worse than he expected. The bullet had pierced the abdomen and come out his side, leaving a hole the size of a peach. He placed bandages on the man’s torso, desperately trying to contain the loss of blood. Ollie briefly thought of his father trapped under the tractor, leg snapped, hip crushed. His mother’s bloodied fingers, nails ripped away as she frantically scraped the earth to free her husband. He shook the vision from his head and applied the last of the bandages. The gauze instantly became saturated with blood.

Glancing toward the cockpit, he saw the captain using the radio. The copilot was in control, pushing the wheel forward to level off the plane. Ollie turned his attention back to the fallen gunner, pressing his hands on the man’s wound. The gunner let out a frail whimper, like a fevered child too ill to wake.

The captain left the cockpit and went to his fallen gunner. He removed his cap, revealing a crop of black hair.

Ollie cringed, immediately recognizing the captain. “He’s bad,” Ollie said.

Flight Lieutenant Boar grabbed Ollie’s jacket. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Ollie looked at him. “I was retrieving a pigeon your men mistakenly loaded when we were attacked.”

Boar looked at his gunner. “Bastard. You got him killed.”

Ollie pushed Boar’s hand away. “Luftwaffe shot him.” He pressed the gunner’s abdomen. “And he’s not dead.”

Boar glanced at the holes in the fuselage, then kneeled and placed his hands on the gunner’s cheeks. “Benny!”

The gunner moaned.

“Benny!”

The gunner slid open his eyes.

Boar squeezed the man’s face. “Hold on, Benny!”

The gunner blinked.

“He needs a hospital,” Ollie said, pressing the man’s wound.

“We’re not going back,” Boar said.

A jolt shot through Ollie’s body.

“The mission has commenced.” Boar ground his teeth. “Keep him comfortable.” He stood and returned to the cockpit.

Ollie pressed harder on Benny’s wound, trying to slow the bleeding. But the hole, caused by a high-caliber bullet that could pierce steel, was far too big. Blood dribbled down the man’s leg to form a puddle. His face turned white. The floor turned red. As the plane flew high above the English Channel, the gunner gave a final gasp, desperately trying to suck in air. Then his chest deflated, like a partially filled balloon snipped with scissors.

With shaking hands, Ollie zipped the man’s flight jacket, then brushed over Benny’s face to close his eyes.

CHAPTER 23 - 10,000 FEET ABOVE THE ENGLISH CHANNEL

CHAPTER 23

10,000 FEET ABOVE THE ENGLISH CHANNEL