Read Under a War-Torn Sky for Free Online Page B

before pulling. If he let his freefall go long enough, the friction of his body against air would slow his descent, making the chute’s snapping open more merciful. Many an airman had broken ribs, collarbones, and even their necks from the jolt of the chute surging open.
    Three one thousand, four one thousand, five…
    Henry couldn’t see much but mist.
    Six one thousand, seven one thousand, eight one thousand…
    His ears felt like they would explode from the changing air pressure.
    Nine one thousand, ten.
    Henry pulled the cord. His chute billowed open and jerked him up into a float. He was cocooned in a cloud. He couldn’t hear the battle’s explosions, the roar of planes, the screams of men. Nothing. For a blissful moment, Henry felt like a hawk skating on the winds above his farm.
    When he was blown clear of the cloudbank, he looked down. If he were over a town, or a river, or a forest, he’d be in trouble. His parachute could drag him under water and drown him; trees and church spires could lynch him.
    Below stretched a hilly landscape of snow.
    Snow? Maybe he was in Switzerland. Henry scanned the sky. In the distance, he could just make out another chute. That had to be Dan.
    Something black was zeroing in on his captain. “Oh, no!” Henry cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted from his belly, “Dan! Look out!”
    They’d been warned that German fighters, sensing the Allies’ momentum, sometimes strafed fliers drifting to safety in parachutes. One began circling Dan, like a buzzard looping over a hurt animal.
    Henry could hear a faint popping sound as the Messerschmitt fired. He strained to see. He couldn’t believe the fighter would go after a man hanging helpless in a parachute. With horror, Henry watched Dan twist and swing back and forth, desperately trying to make himself a moving target.
    The fighter took a final, razor-close pass. Dan’s parachute turned inside out, blown by the backwash of the Messerschmitt. Instantly, Dan plunged towards earth, a worthless plume of white canvas streaming above him.
    â€œNOOOOOOOOO!” Henry screamed. They had to be a mile up in the air. When he hit ground, Dan’s body would shatter like a glass hitting pavement. Henry covered his eyes and heaved wrenching sobs. He thought of the baby pictures that Dan had shown him dozens of times. Baby Colleen.
    Then he heard it – the whine of a plane closing in. The Messerschmitt was coming after him.
    â€œYou’ve got to be kidding!” Henry wrestled his pistol free and pointed it at the dark smudge that was getting bigger and louder by the second. “Come on!” he yelled. “This is for Dan.”
    Blinded by anger and grief, Henry didn’t think about the futility of trying to shoot down a plane moving at such speed with a handgun. He sucked in the freezing air to clear his vision. He thought of how his dad had taught him to shoot a quail: never take your eye off it. Track the bird, then squeeze the trigger gently so your hand doesn’t jerk and spoil your aim.
    Henry lined up the pistol’s nose with the fighter’s oncoming cockpit. “I’ve got you,” he muttered.
    Pop, pop. Henry squeezed the trigger. The .45 spat uselessly at the gleaming, roaring machine. Pop, pop.
    Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat.
    The Messerschmitt’s machine guns thundered back at him.
    Henry could feel bullets zinging past him. He aimed again. Pop, pop.
    Six shots. He was out of ammunition. Henry helplessly threw the pistol towards the Messerschmitt and watched it tumble aimlessly through heaven. He faced the oncoming machine, naked.
    Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat.
    The fighter’s machine gun bullets ripped through Henry’s parachute. He felt the chute dip, felt the air rushing faster up his body to his face. He looked up and saw holes peppering the chute’s canvas.
    Henry looked down and saw the earth roaring up to meet him. The chute’s