The Belly Of The Beast
By: Thomas L.
The sound of sirens and AA guns rattled the midnight tranquility of London. Late night citizens going for a stroll rushed towards the nearest house. The first person to hear those terrible, horrifying sounds was the restless 18 year old named Ben. He rushed out his back door and into the makeshift bunker he and his family built the previous day. The bombs just kept falling and falling like a waterfall. Every time one hit the ground it felt like a 9.0 earthquake. He thought he was going to die the very painful death, the one he had seen in his very dreams, the one where he is torn to shreds by the pieces of the house that is now smoldering wreckage before him.
The next day the weary and rattled Ben staggered out of the bunker only to find the smothering remains of his house which his family was in the previous night. He dropped to his knees and a new sensation came over him. It was not grief, it was anger. Anger at the Nazis, anger at the pilots who could’ve saved his family, but most of all anger at all the countries who started this terrible, unspeakable, world war.
Miraculously he found the tattered remains of his father’s wallet and his ID card. Ben had nothing here in London nowhere to live no family all he had here was the love of his country. The next day when he went grocery shopping at the only market in London that hadn’t been blown up. On the wall at the check-out line he saw a poster with a Union Jack back round that read join royal air force your country needs in big bold letters that you could read from miles away. Ben got an idea. Some may say it was crazy or suicidal but Ben had ADHD and was very impulsive. He instantly dropped his groceries and ran to the nearest enlisting station.
He used his dad’s ID to sign up for the Royal Air Force. If his family had been alive they would have told him he was crazy and should let grown men do the fighting but nothing was left for him in London and without out any regrets he signed up.
Told he would be shipped out the training camp in a week. It was the worst week of his life because he discovered that most of his friends had died when a bomb hit the night school they were attending. His remaining friends were too busy cowering in fear of the Nazi war machine but Ben wasn’t. He wasn’t going to let the Nazis take over Britain. The Germans have been beaten once by Britain and they could do it again.
The training camp in Whales was on a soggy plateau by the ocean that was always surrounded in mist. Every one including Ben wanted to jump into the cockpit of one of the fancy Spitfires and shoot down all of the Nazi planes they could find. When the training plane was unveiled everyone grumbled and groaned for it was not a Spitfire it was a crop-duster. The burley drill sergeant made Ben and the others run miles upon miles even though they would never run because we always going to be in a cockpit. Or so Ben thought.
Ben had never flown a plane before but he knew the basics because his dad was an airline pilot before the war. He could hear the cackling of the radio that was sending up messages for them to do target practice in which Ben was usually the target but he evaded the attacks quite easily because most of the enlistees were very inept. It turns out Ben was a natural and was shipped back to London to join the Royal Air Force unit that is London.
His first few days there were tense everyone knew that a Nazi attack is inevitable and it was only a matter of time before the first squadron of bombers was seen before London. There was always a drill a day to make sure they could get in the air ASAP. Ben was awoken on his sixth day by the sound of sirens and screaming. London was under attack.
There was a huge confusion in the ranks of the pilots as everyone rushed towards their spitfires. Ben knew that this would be the last time he saw most of the pilots. As soon as his squadron left the ground they headed toward the Nazi bombers. The giant fortresses were being escorted by a pair of Nazi planes. The radio cackled with the order from his squadron leader, “Take em’ out.” Ben urged his plane forward and began shooting but he missed every shot. He would have died if it wasn’t for his squadron leader who managed to pull forward and shoot down the plane that began tailing Ben. The sounds of the battle echo across Ben ears. Terrible sounds like machine gun fire and pilots screaming, “I’m hit, I’m going down.” Ben couldn’t take it anymore and disengaged. He watched the rest of the battle from above the clouds. Eventually the Spitfires managed to take down all the Nazi planes. “But at what cost,” thought Ben, “But at what cost?” The words echoed in his ears as if someone was whispering to him from the heavens.
He landed at the air base with the few remaining pilots. No matter how unlikely the British have dealt the Nazis their first major defeat. The commander congratulating Ben on his flying sarcastically but one of the commanders who had been viewing the battle noticed that Ben could maneuver his plane anywhere he wanted it to go. He offered Ben a job in reconnaissance flying Ben took the offer without even hesitating because if he didn’t he would be cleaning the now battle scared spitfires.
His first mission went smoothly and the next and the next. But when Ben was sent to Normandy to scout out the beaches from which the allied forces would invade France his plane was shot at by a German AA gun Ben bobbed and weaved but the AA gun still managed to take him down. Right down the heart of Nazi Germany, right into the belly of the beast.
He awoke concussed and lacking air. He took huge deep breaths before getting the small mallet and smashing open the cockpit. He got out and surveyed the area. It was cold as it gets in the French winter. He could melt the snow for water but it probably wouldn’t be clean. Not having a water source is very dangerous when you are alone in the woods. He knew that any minute now he would hear the barks of the fierce German dogs. He grabbed his Welrod pistol with eight shots knowing little protection is better than none. Sure enough the hounds got closer, and closer, and closer. Ben hid in a shrub that hadn’t lost all of its leaves and waited. When he heard the dog’s pants he rolled out of the bush, pistol in hand and shot. The first two bullets killed the handler and the final six the dogs. Ben threw away his Welrod knowing it would be useless and grabbed the German’s Luger pistol, then ran.
He ran as fast and as far as he could until he came upon a small town on the French Riviera. He didn’t dare enter the town because he knew it was crawling with Nazis. He laid his head down on a soft bank of snow and slept.
He awoke to a German man telling him to put his hands up and drop his weapon. He dropped the Luger and the man escorted him to the Nazi military base overlooking Normandy beach. They used forms of torture to unspeakable to inhumane to describe. Ben spent the night in that “hell on earth.”
He was awoken by the sound of machine gun fire and the sounds of the soft crunching of snow. He saw the Americans parachute down like rain drops onto the beach. After what seemed like an eternity of watching German and American men being killed he heard a German man screaming to fall back and to leave the prisoner. Which of course was him. The US commandos opened the door to his cell. Ben told them everything the fake ID, the battle of London, the reconnaissance work, being shot down, being brought hear. They took pity on the bruised 18 year old which stood before them and brought him home on a small boat that returned to England with the small amount of men who had been wounded on the beach but survived. He went to live with his aunt in Yorkshire after the war and never thought again about going into another war. Not after what he has been through.
The next day the weary and rattled Ben staggered out of the bunker only to find the smothering remains of his house which his family was in the previous night. He dropped to his knees and a new sensation came over him. It was not grief, it was anger. Anger at the Nazis, anger at the pilots who could’ve saved his family, but most of all anger at all the countries who started this terrible, unspeakable, world war.
Miraculously he found the tattered remains of his father’s wallet and his ID card. Ben had nothing here in London nowhere to live no family all he had here was the love of his country. The next day when he went grocery shopping at the only market in London that hadn’t been blown up. On the wall at the check-out line he saw a poster with a Union Jack back round that read join royal air force your country needs in big bold letters that you could read from miles away. Ben got an idea. Some may say it was crazy or suicidal but Ben had ADHD and was very impulsive. He instantly dropped his groceries and ran to the nearest enlisting station.
He used his dad’s ID to sign up for the Royal Air Force. If his family had been alive they would have told him he was crazy and should let grown men do the fighting but nothing was left for him in London and without out any regrets he signed up.
Told he would be shipped out the training camp in a week. It was the worst week of his life because he discovered that most of his friends had died when a bomb hit the night school they were attending. His remaining friends were too busy cowering in fear of the Nazi war machine but Ben wasn’t. He wasn’t going to let the Nazis take over Britain. The Germans have been beaten once by Britain and they could do it again.
The training camp in Whales was on a soggy plateau by the ocean that was always surrounded in mist. Every one including Ben wanted to jump into the cockpit of one of the fancy Spitfires and shoot down all of the Nazi planes they could find. When the training plane was unveiled everyone grumbled and groaned for it was not a Spitfire it was a crop-duster. The burley drill sergeant made Ben and the others run miles upon miles even though they would never run because we always going to be in a cockpit. Or so Ben thought.
Ben had never flown a plane before but he knew the basics because his dad was an airline pilot before the war. He could hear the cackling of the radio that was sending up messages for them to do target practice in which Ben was usually the target but he evaded the attacks quite easily because most of the enlistees were very inept. It turns out Ben was a natural and was shipped back to London to join the Royal Air Force unit that is London.
His first few days there were tense everyone knew that a Nazi attack is inevitable and it was only a matter of time before the first squadron of bombers was seen before London. There was always a drill a day to make sure they could get in the air ASAP. Ben was awoken on his sixth day by the sound of sirens and screaming. London was under attack.
There was a huge confusion in the ranks of the pilots as everyone rushed towards their spitfires. Ben knew that this would be the last time he saw most of the pilots. As soon as his squadron left the ground they headed toward the Nazi bombers. The giant fortresses were being escorted by a pair of Nazi planes. The radio cackled with the order from his squadron leader, “Take em’ out.” Ben urged his plane forward and began shooting but he missed every shot. He would have died if it wasn’t for his squadron leader who managed to pull forward and shoot down the plane that began tailing Ben. The sounds of the battle echo across Ben ears. Terrible sounds like machine gun fire and pilots screaming, “I’m hit, I’m going down.” Ben couldn’t take it anymore and disengaged. He watched the rest of the battle from above the clouds. Eventually the Spitfires managed to take down all the Nazi planes. “But at what cost,” thought Ben, “But at what cost?” The words echoed in his ears as if someone was whispering to him from the heavens.
He landed at the air base with the few remaining pilots. No matter how unlikely the British have dealt the Nazis their first major defeat. The commander congratulating Ben on his flying sarcastically but one of the commanders who had been viewing the battle noticed that Ben could maneuver his plane anywhere he wanted it to go. He offered Ben a job in reconnaissance flying Ben took the offer without even hesitating because if he didn’t he would be cleaning the now battle scared spitfires.
His first mission went smoothly and the next and the next. But when Ben was sent to Normandy to scout out the beaches from which the allied forces would invade France his plane was shot at by a German AA gun Ben bobbed and weaved but the AA gun still managed to take him down. Right down the heart of Nazi Germany, right into the belly of the beast.
He awoke concussed and lacking air. He took huge deep breaths before getting the small mallet and smashing open the cockpit. He got out and surveyed the area. It was cold as it gets in the French winter. He could melt the snow for water but it probably wouldn’t be clean. Not having a water source is very dangerous when you are alone in the woods. He knew that any minute now he would hear the barks of the fierce German dogs. He grabbed his Welrod pistol with eight shots knowing little protection is better than none. Sure enough the hounds got closer, and closer, and closer. Ben hid in a shrub that hadn’t lost all of its leaves and waited. When he heard the dog’s pants he rolled out of the bush, pistol in hand and shot. The first two bullets killed the handler and the final six the dogs. Ben threw away his Welrod knowing it would be useless and grabbed the German’s Luger pistol, then ran.
He ran as fast and as far as he could until he came upon a small town on the French Riviera. He didn’t dare enter the town because he knew it was crawling with Nazis. He laid his head down on a soft bank of snow and slept.
He awoke to a German man telling him to put his hands up and drop his weapon. He dropped the Luger and the man escorted him to the Nazi military base overlooking Normandy beach. They used forms of torture to unspeakable to inhumane to describe. Ben spent the night in that “hell on earth.”
He was awoken by the sound of machine gun fire and the sounds of the soft crunching of snow. He saw the Americans parachute down like rain drops onto the beach. After what seemed like an eternity of watching German and American men being killed he heard a German man screaming to fall back and to leave the prisoner. Which of course was him. The US commandos opened the door to his cell. Ben told them everything the fake ID, the battle of London, the reconnaissance work, being shot down, being brought hear. They took pity on the bruised 18 year old which stood before them and brought him home on a small boat that returned to England with the small amount of men who had been wounded on the beach but survived. He went to live with his aunt in Yorkshire after the war and never thought again about going into another war. Not after what he has been through.