Blue Angels

December 30, 2009
By tsaxgeek GOLD, Palmyra, New York
tsaxgeek GOLD, Palmyra, New York
14 articles 0 photos 2 comments

Blue angels. Hundreds of them. They flew gracefully through the air, their tiny wings flapping furiously. They had smiles on their perfect faces. Their hands were held out and their mouths were open, like they were singing. Except they weren’t. They were buzzing. The buzzing started softly at first, like a whisper. It grew slowly, getting louder and louder each second. Zzzzzz, zzzzz. It reminded him of the fat, fuzzy bumblebees in his Mama’s garden. In the summer, they would fly through the air, interrupting the peaceful quiet. Zzzzzz, zzzzz. The buzzing was loud. The blue angels flew closer and closer, their mouths open wide. Zzzzzz, zzzzz.
“Flächen! Bombardierung!” Planes! Bombardment! The dream was over. The youth was back in the trench, his rifle clasped in his bloodied hands. A spray of bullets flew over the barbed wire. Screams penetrated the darkness. The killing had begun.
All around him men fell, littering the narrow trenches. The living fired back into the black abyss. They knew they would soon perish.
Planes buzzed overhead. A flash of light pierced the immense darkness, accompanied by a dull roar. The youth threw himself to the bottom of the trench.
“Aufstehen, Junge!” Get up, boy! A veteran soldier slapped the youth’s face. “Aufstehen!” He pointed upward. The night sky was blanketed with planes, green planes: British warplanes. The youth struggled to raise his body off the ground. He collapsed. The youth looked down. His right leg was dangling limply from his thin frame, only fragments of muscle and bone remaining.
“Dich, Jungen verdammen!” the veteran cried, tears welling in his eyes. Darn you, boy! He paused for a moment. “Dich verdammen.” Darn you. He slid his arms under the youth’s body, attempting to hoist him off the ground. The youth began to shake violently. He sunk his teeth into the veterans shoulder, trying to bear the horrendous pain.
“Es ist kein Gebrauch,” the veteran sighed. It is no use. He lowered the youth to the ground. He pointed his rifle at the youth’s heaving chest.
“N-N-Nein!” screamed the youth. N-N-No! His eyes darted about frantically, trying to grasp a piece of invisible hope. The veteran shook his head. “Dich verdammen….” Darn you....
“Für den Ruhm des Vaterlands!” For the glory of the Fatherland! The youth closed his eyes. Death. Death had arrived at last. Death and blue angels.

The author's comments:
This piece was inspired by Erich Remarque's "All Quiet on the Western Front".

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