The minutes passed feeling like hours. My neck giving out and dropping my head back against the icy metal that cacoons me along with the others.
The engines were too loud to grace us with peace and sleep. Instead we were met with never ending coldness and numb fingers. The thin lining wasn't enough to keep us warm, even with our paracute bags and survival kit.
After sitting in the plane for hours the point began when I no longer felt the icy-cold air against my frosted uniform and I couldn't feel any of my extremities. Even breathing was senseless, the only thing that I could feel that was warming me was my heart accompanied by the thought of a warm fire and a cuppa. "If only, if only the war wasn't a reality. Stupid Nazi's." I muttered under my breath.
YOU ARE READING
Myths of Survival
Historical FictionIn the midst of war one man is faced with a journey to unknown lands to for fill a mission he has no details or reasoning for. All he can do is hope all goes well and he is home soon, but things are never as simple as that. (Written as part of a E...
