Aces' Diary

Chapter 2: The Other Side

His Spitfire was engulfed in flame, and the heat began to seep through his flight suit. He had to act immediately. He attempted to unlock the canopy, but it was jammed. He grunted as he attacked it further, but it barely budged. Mustering all his strength, he used all his might against the steel, and finally, it snapped off. A smile crept on his face, but this wasn’t the time for celebration. He hastily slid back the canopy, stood up into the roaring wind, and leapt out.

Luckily, his parachute wasn’t damaged by the flames that engulfed his engine; the proofing in the cockpit saved him. His Spitfire plummeted down to the forest below, crashing at the edge of the forest in a brilliant explosion. Fire flared up in a mushroom-like shape, spreading its blaze to the surrounding trees.

He plummeted through the air, wind battering against his body. If he hadn’t worn the goggles, he would have been blinded by the pummeling breeze. Spreading his arms and legs slowly for stability, he aligned himself as well as he could in the air before reaching for the rip cord. With a correctly timed rip, he released the billowing silk into the sky behind him, jerking to a sudden halt. He eyed the spread white dome above him, noting a small greyed-out corner, tinged by heat damage. Hopefully, it wouldn’t ruin his parachute and take away his only chance of survival.

“Bloody Kraut,” he muttered, rage melting on his face. If he found that pilot, he would shoot him on sight, disregarding the Geneva Convention completely.

He saw a silhouette on the horizon approaching him with great speed of his late Spitfire. He squinted his eyes, using one of his ace skills: eagle eyes. The incoming figure looked almost like a horse with wings. Not believing his own eyes, he shook his head and looked again. Yes, he wasn’t mad. He just saw a cyan horse with wings, a rainbow trail behind it.

What in the bloody hell is that!? He made a wry face. The ground was coming closer, too close to overlook.

He focused on his fall. Hallucination, and apparently, brain damage, could wait. Below him was a forest. He quickly angled his fall to the plain nearby, avoiding getting his parachute ripped up by a tree. He bent his knees and tucked into a roll as he hit the ground jarringly.

After shaking himself out of the impact-induced daze, he unstrapped his parachute. He still knew this as the bonny British Isles, his homeland. But as far as he knew, there wasn’t a mountain anywhere near southern England.

Then he heard a buzzing noise of an aero plane engine. Considering that he’d been followed down by that blasted Jerry. He knew he would have to duck it, hide, and observe as the situation unfold. He ran to a nearby bush and hid himself inside. He peeked out just in time to see the smoking German hulk careen past his hiding place.

That’s him. He thought, remembering the number and the text on the plane’s side; probably his girlfriend.

The Messerschmitt glided down and bellied out at the other end of the field. He heard a loud crash shortly after. The thought of checking the crash site came into his mind, but it faded when he saw, yet more of those strange creatures. A herd of colourful horses appeared seemingly from nowhere and made their cautious way towards to the crash site. the cerulean flying horse he had seen earlier flew amidst some peers to the crash site as well.

What the bloody hell are those things? He wondered in frustration, flabbergasted.

He drew his trusty Webley break-top Revolver, checking the .455 ammunition. Be ready for anything dangerous.

Now, wait for the coast to clear. He plotted his movement carefully as he tracked the movement of those horses.

He observed those colourful horses as they examined the “Messer.” They just circled around it and examined it; as if afraid it would come to life and fly again. They finally decided to leave after half an hour of prodding about the wreck, returning to wherever they had come from. When the last of them was out of his field of view, he jumped out of the bush he had hidden in.

Then he smelled something, something truly awful. It smelled like a mountain of rotten flesh and manure heaped upon a bed of coals. He wondered where the source of it was. He looked around for a moment before catching a glimpse of a green light lit in the forest. What he saw there shocked him. A wolf made of logs, branches and leaves prowled along the edge of the forest. Luckily, it didn’t seem to spot him. He jumped back in the bush, just peeking out, but he accidentally snapped a twig in the process. His heart skipped a beat. It heard the noise, and began approaching.

Bollocks… He swore in his head.

His brain commanded him to grab a rock and throw it as a distraction, so he obeyed. He picked up a decent-sized rock from the ground and threw it, as far as his strength allowed him to. Success! It turned away from the bush he was hiding in, towards the clatter of the stone through the branches. He waited for the beast to leave the area before creeping out of hiding.

That was way too close… He thought.

He let out a ‘phew’, and looked around. The only logical course of course was a get as far away from both the downed aircraft and that scary-looking wolf-thingy, so that’s what he did. Under the cover of the trees, he felt a little safer, and began walking casually, until he saw yet another odd sight. Before him stood a cottage that defied description. It looked as if a French cottage had a love-child with an oak, and the poor bastard was now firmly planted before him. As he stood, contemplating how a cottage and a tree may have such a child, the door at the front of the building opened, revealing a yellow coated horse with pink mane and… a pair of wings? It sniffed the air. He jumped in the bush again, avoiding its eye-line by inches. He decided that the bastard-tree-cottage-thing was yet another place to avoid, but before he could get around it, he heard gunshots from the distance, from the direction he had just come. Well, looks like Jerry met Mister Wolf, He chuckled to himself. The yellow horse thing, though, was less calm about the sharp sounds. It galloped past him to the source of sound.

At least Jerry went out with a bang…? He thought, not particularly caring.

He followed the yellow horse out of curiosity to the source of the gunfire. He reached the scene just in time to see the German pilot rammed by the wolf. The yellow horse gasped. It ran to the wolf and just stared at the beast with scary eyes. It flinched and backed away slowly, unable to withstand her glare.

Holy me mother… it could scare a predator just like that? he asked himself. Not a regular horse, then.

It mouth moved a bit. Then, the unbelievable thing happened. It spoke. It SHOUTED.

“HOW DARE YOU HURT HIM LIKE THAT? WHAT DID HE DO TO YOU!?” it yelled in rage at the wooden wolf, making it shrinked in fear.

His jaw dropped, surprised and startled by it. By her, undoubtedly. He had never seen a talking horse with wings before in his life. He shook his head to regain his sanity. This was not bonny old England…

“WHAT WOULD YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER THINK OF YOU? DOING THIS TO AN INNOCENT…” She cut at the end, turned awkwardly to the German pilot.

“Errr… w-what should I call you?” she asked the German pilot awkwardly.

“Ava…” the woozy German pilot muttered quietly.

“WHAT WOULD YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER THINK OF YOU! DOING THIS TO AN INNOCENT AVA!?” she continued where she left.

“Snrk” He almost laughed, but held it, careful not to alert them.

Whoa… this thing is very scary. he thought, observed the scene from the distance, crouched to avoid being seen.

“NOW RUN ALONG, AND DON’T EVER LET ME CATCH YOU DOING THIS AGAIN!” she yelled for the final time, before turning her attention to the German pilot.

“Poor thing” she muttered, nuzzling the German pilot, before grabbing the unconscious body and hauling him up into the air, flying toward the hiding spot of a very startled Englishman.

He saw it coming toward him, and he once again dove into the nearest bush, hoping for the two to pass without spotting him. He kept out of the bush again, noting the direction the yellow horse-thing had flown: She had dragged the German pilot to its cottage. He followed from the distance, not to alert her. She opened the door and dragged the injured pilot inside with muttered coos. He ran quietly to the cottage. He ducked under the window, peeking in from the corner. He saw the yellow horse and a white rabbit with a frown on its face along with a pair of angry eyes.

Hmmm… lunch, He thought with amusement rather than actual intent, before eavesdropping on her unsure words.

“I… I should check his condition, r… right Angel?” she asked the rabbit, inside the house.

“...” The rabbit agreed, apparently.

“O… Ok,” the yellow horse said shyly, and grabbed a first aid kit and walked to another room.

Suddenly, the rabbit turned to the window. He shrank back into his cover, almost detected by that strange little bunny.

This is getting weirder and weirder… he thought with a small grin on his face.

When he peeked out again, the bunny was gone. He thought it went to assist the yellow horse with the injured German pilot. He was wrong. He felt something poking his leg. He looked down and saw that weird bunny poking his leg. When he noticed it, it stared at him with that frowny face of his.

How did… It spotted me? How did it know that I’m here? He asked himself.

It stared at him. He stared back. Silence struck them both. The bunny couldn’t talk, he knew that, so he broke the ice and said

“What is it?” he asked the weird white bunny, staring at him.

“...” It continued to stare, then it blinked.

It stopped the stare and hopped back inside the cottage. He followed stealthily. He snuck into the cottage. It certainly looked much larger on the inside. The house was filled with animals’ cages and roosts, but his eyes were drawn to the couch at the corner, where the German pilot lay, unconscious.

There’s the bastard… he thought, his gun readied to fire. But something stopped him.

No, this isn’t right, he thought, remembering what his commander had said when he was in training.

“You are a fighter pilot, first, last, always. If I ever hear you shoot a parachuted man, I’ll shoot you myself,” his commander had growled. If one thing had stuck from that old man, it was his honour.

For him, the unconscious enemy was a parachuted pilot, already defeated. He lowered his Webley, looking at the knocked out assailant. The Kraut was patched up by the yellow horse, his pistol still in the holster. He smiled at the unconscious Kraut, his hatred vanishing.

“God bless you, Kraut,” he said to the unconscious pilot. “May we fight again, someday,” he said with a big smile on his face.

He heard footsteps coming. He quickly dashed to the window, opened it, and jumped out. Someone was in the room; he heard them walking to the window. The footsteps drew closer and closer. He positioned himself against the wall under the window, avoiding getting spotted.

“A… Angel,” she called the weird rabbit. So it was the horse thing after all... “What kind of creature did you see, spying on us?” it asked.

“...” Silence was the reply from the rabbit. Apparently, he preferred to communicate through the proud medium of charades.

“I… It’s v-very tall?” she asked. If she got it right, the bunny, Angel, stretched itself to be taller. It nodded.

“H… How tall is it?” she asked. The rabbit pointed at her, stretching itself much more than last time. “A- A lot t-taller t-than me?” she asked the rabbit. Again, it nodded, then ran around like a monkey, scratching its head. “A-And it look like an a-ape?” she guessed, The rabbit stopped acting like a monkey and nodded. “It’s coatless?” she asked. The rabbit answered in a nod. “And it wore clothes too?” she asked again. Yes, the rabbit nodded.

“T-The d-description you gave me matched the poor creature we just patched up, Angel!” she exclaimed. “Y-You didn’t think this poor little creature here,” She gestured towards the German pilot, still unconscious, “walked outside or tried to run away, do you?” she asked the rabbit.

“...” It shook its head in disagreement.

“There is another one?” she asked the rabbit. The rabbit nodded

Bloody hell… he swore to himself, starting to panic.

He crawled away from the cottage, hoping to escape without being spotted. The ground was soft enough for him to crawl silently. He made it to the nearest cover, yet another precious bush, 10 metres away from the cottage. He crouched inside the bush. Not a single soul seemed to be nearby, so it was really easy for him to sneak around undetected.

Suddenly, something hurtled into him. “Ouch!” he exclaimed in pain. Something had fallen on his head. He turned around to glower at the offending object.

A teacup? He wondered. How the dickens did that get here?

There was also an iron pot with a box labeled “Tea” wrapped within it, a water canister, a pack of sugar, and lastly, a carton of milk.

How convenient, and it’s about tea time… He thought as he checked his watch. He looked at all the ingredients and the tools used to brew tea. He glanced about him and saw a lot of things stashed in the bush he had hidden in. He saw several packs of snacks, a mini stove, a couple of match boxes, a small pack of coal, several cans of rations, a sleeping bag, a flashlight, and an oil lamp.

Who would stash these things here? He wondered. Oh, right, swastikas on all this kit…Jerry, I owe you a thank you, mate! I could spend a night here and wait for you to wake up. He planned his actions as he rummaged through the tools and food stashed in there.

He grabbed the mini stove above him and set it on the ground. He grabbed the pack of “smokeless coal” He took out a couple of pieces and placed them in the stove, hoping the label rang true. He stretched out and grabbed a box of matches, picking one out and striking it. The fire burst from the head in typically weak German sparks. He threw it at some dry grass and twigs under the coal, which burst into dull, but very smoky, flames. He grabbed the pot and poured water from its canister, placed the pot on the stove, and waited. A couple of minutes past, and the water was boiling. He poured some boiling water in the cup, put the teabag in, and waited. Five minutes past, he pulled the bag out and squeezed it with spoon, the tasty tea dripping down from the bag. He added the sugar and some milk, and completed successfully making himself a cup of tea.

An hour further, and the sun was setting. The beauty of this place was remarkable; somehow always peaceful, very different from England nowadays, bombed by the Krauts day and night. The country scenery here was almost better than the English countryside. Almost. Its colourfulness was amazing, but it was a bit too bright during the day. But amazingly beautiful at twilight for sure.

After a cup of tea and some snacking on the supplies inside the bush. He lit the oil lamp with a match. He grabbed the mini stove, placed some coal in, and lit it with another match from the box he used to light the lamp. He grabbed the rations and tried to read all the labels. Of course, it was all in German. How inconsiderate of them Jerry. Still, the pictures were easily discernible. He found a couple cans of vegetable soup, mashed potatoes, and some meat jerky. He opened those cans and heated them on the stove. He stirred the soup and put the jerky in the soup for more taste. After finishing his meal, he put out the fire and cleaned the things he had used. No use in being lazy. He cleared the ground and unrolled the sleeping bag. He crawled into its cozy warmth, blew the lamp out and slept.

Such a peculiarday… he thought before closing his eyes in the darkness.