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| xx. WHAT WAS I MADE FOR?

MASTERS OF THE AIR
AMOR VINCIT OMNIA

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If I may, do you remember my name when you raise your hands? Do you think about me in your quietest moments? How about your loudest? Given a choice, would you mention my name? Have I earned a place in your heart? Do I have a residence permit?

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RAVENSBRÜCK
GERMANY

|| THE DARKNESS ENVELOPED HER LIKE A WOOLEN CLOAK; suffocating, heavy, drowning—reaping the very breath, the very essence from her soul. The lonely and bitter heart fluttered like a trapped bird—-each beat louder than the last. Fear gripped ahold, feeling like a vile poison—-seeping into her very bones and paralyzing her limbs.

It was an odd sensation, so surreal like any other, like a scene was snatched out of a cartoon or one of those silent films from the 1920's. Where the sound is nonexistent, leaving only the rhyme of one's heart to fill the void.

One moment it was peaceful, a tiny glimpse of relief from the crushing reality. Where laughter and talk filled the void, with smiles that brighten even the weary. Then the next, it was disastrous... The darkness, ever the cruel mistress, extended her craws upon the little flame that dared to flicker. Frankly Celeste wasn't a stranger to it.

Camp guards barged in with commands barked in a foreign tongue, each verb unfolding like a symphony orchestrated by a malevolent conductor. The canines were the loyal trumpets
that strained against their leashes. The clamor of brandishing rifles played the tranquility like a clarinet.

Those guttural words reverberated around the cabin, bouncing off walls like evil whispers. The ferocious barks of the Shepherds never gave way, their feral energy stark to the terrified stillness of the girls. Hilda and Beatrice clung to each other— as if holding onto a single lifeline.

Ana, her body trembling like a leaf in the wind, sought refuge in Celeste's embrace—tears carving paths through the grime on her cheeks. The brunette felt the rhythm, a guttering feeling—a knowing this very moment was a repeat to the young girl.

In the stillness that followed the entrance, the atmosphere crackled with a sense of dread—per-sa the calm before hell was bound to unravel. And unravel it did, as through the shadows emerged Josef Wolff—a man all women of the camp feared.

His very presence warped the air around him, a tempest of anger swirling in his wake. The aggressiveness, the tension, and the hushed sobs of the girls all amused him in some perverse way.

With every step, the floorboards beneath him trembled—as if paying homage to the sheer evil. Josef's eyes, rather cold and devoid of humanity, scanned the room with a predatory intensity that sent shivers down the spines of all who dared to meet his gaze.

"Where is the American?" His voice boomed, reverberating like a war cry. None never uttered a word—merely as many didn't speak a lick of German nor did they want to give up what little dignity was left. Hilda and Beatrice looked to Maria then to Celeste for reassurance—their faces pale with dread. They knew what was to come...they had been victim to it before...

But he wasn't taking silence as an answer. "Where is she?!" In conclusion to his demand, Josef slammed his boot harshly upon the floor—causing the girls closest to wail a vile cry. One of the guards in response, held his gun up towards the crowd—eyes burning with an intensity.

It was then that one brave soul shakily pointed in the direction of Celeste. That accusing finger stayed, like a bullseye making the way. The American shallowed the bile within her throat—her jaw shuttering slightly as a sense of foreboding settled over like a dark cloud.

When Josef's gaze finally locked onto the American, a flicker of recognition ignited in his icy eyes—a dangerous glint that spoke of unfinished business.

"You!" His voice sliced like a whip, his German accent tinged with malice. That fury was a tangible force that threatened to consume everything in its path.

Celeste felt the weight of his words press upon her, yet refused to falter. Like a lone warrior facing down a formidable foe, she held her ground—chin lifted in silent defiance.

The room seemed to shrink, the space between them closing with each passing second until he stood before her. Even with him practically on her, Celeste never budged an inch, no matter how much his voice raised. Those emerald eyes bore into his with full hatred.

Josef's features contorted with anger when Celeste wouldn't acknowledge his presence. She made a silent vow – not to let fear dictate her actions, nor allow this man to break her spirit. That spirit was all she had left now,..having lost a piece of Egan left her fraught with grief.

It had her thinking, what would Egan do in this situation? Most likely get himself killed, honestly with his smart ass comments... But frankly she wasn't any better.

Ana, eyes wide of despair, remained fixed at Celeste's side—her small frame trembling. Josef, more visibly irritated, snapped his fingers, signaling to the two guards stationed behind him to move. They went right to seize Ana.

"Please Don't take her!" She wailed, her arms remaining anchored upon Celeste's waist. The young girl had already lost her parents once, she wasn't ready to lose another. But one of the guards had enough—and shoved Ana to the ground with the brutal end of his rifle. The sharp crack of impact reverberated through the room, followed by an anguished yelp.

An urge, a fiery burned within, a rage to protect what was hers—a maternal instinct one would call. "No! Stop!" Celeste's voice pierced through the wailing cries, a plea of her heart snapping all over again like it had months ago. It wrenched at the sight of Ana's fallen form. She couldn't go through another loss, it was be a burden that would end her.

"Now she speaks..." Josef says before grabbing ahold of Celeste's forearm— where his grip drained her skin into white. There's nothing to cushion the pain, no fat, no meat —-just his hand engulfing her fragile bones whole.

Even then, she remained fixed to Ana's side. Fearing the young girl would be taken away and that just wasn't going to happen. She'd rather see herself die first, to be reunited with Egan, Frankie...and all the men she had trained and lost.

Desperation flared within Celeste fighting against Josef's iron hold—whilst her other hand strained towards Ana's. The world seemed to blur around her, where only her sight saw the cowering little girl.

Josef grabbed ahold of her other forearm and tried restraining both behind her back. Her weakened body strained—her bones almost giving way. He was determined to wear down what little life she had left.

With all the energy she could muster, Celeste tossed her head back in a defiant attempt to break free. It was to all now or never...

Her head connected with his chin, causing him stumble back—thus releasing his grip momentarily. If only a second had passed as Celeste tried to scramble away, yet felt her hair being grasped tightly once more. She's yanked up, her hands raising to meet the hand holding her.

Celeste fought against the iron grip, her muscles straining as she thrashed and kicked in a futile attempt to break free. Her eyes blazing with a mixture of anger and fear. But try as she might, she didn't possess the strength she once had. Her energy was falling quickly and her body was kicking into overdrive.

She was then dragged out of the cabin into the biting cold of winter. Unceremoniously across the snow and mud, forcibly torn away from Ana, she could still hear her echoing cries.

The cold nipped at her exposed skin, mud seeping into her already damaged clothes. But it wasn't cold that made Celeste feel fear, it was Josef. Mainly as it was him, the one that could potentially seal her fate. It was know that he often used his rank to get what he wanted and didn't care if it hurt anyone.

As the German officer dragged her through the slush and mire, Celeste's breath caught in her throat—a sharp intake as her scalp screamed in protest.

"Do you know what your countrymen have done?!"The accusation tore through the air like a banshee's wail. Each syllable a dagger aimed at Celeste. Instantly Josef's hands clenched tighter—his fingers digging into the flesh of her scalp.

Her head throbbed in agony to the rhythm of her heart. But she could do little but listen. Being the unwitting target of his wrath.

With a brutal tug, Josef lifted her by the strands of her brunette locks. Her body, battered and bruised, was lifted like a doll by the merciless grip. With a cry of anguish, she was forced to meet Josef's gaze—a tempest of grief and fury raging in his stormy eyes.

The pain was evident in hers, yet beneath the surface, a flicker of defiance burned like a lone flame in the night.
"No..." she strained out, her teeth chattering and bleeding from the pressure inflicting upon them.

"There was bombing in Freiburg, two days ago on November 27th at 9pm..." 

Through the pain, Celeste merely raised a brow at his words—uncertain how this had anything to do with her. Surely she had heard the gossip traveling along the wind about possible bombings coming closer to the heart of Germany. But never believed them.

She merely swallowed the bile as he held her closer, his breath warm against her throat, " Because of that, I lost my beloved wife and innocent son!"

Before she could fully comprehend his words, Celeste was violently thrown to the unforgiving ground—the impact stealing her breath away. Her frail body particularly shattered, her mere flesh offered no cushion nor protection. The fat and muscle had weaned away mouths ago.

But it was the savage kick to her gut that left her gasping—the bitter taste of iron on her lips. It left the once proud and overly observant Chief Leader wracked in pain. Nimbly, she shakily reached a hand out to the snow, trying to move herself forward.

But there was a side of Celeste that refused to be dimmed. "If it was dark, then it was the British not American..," she dared to utter, using what little strength she had. The words hung in the frosty air, a bitterness that threatened to unravel Josef's world.

Enraged by her audacity, Josef seized her once more, yanking her head back. "What did you say?" His tone dripped with malice, his eyes ablaze with a vengeful fire. Celeste, her lips curling slightly, met his unflinchingly. "I said it was the British... they only bomb in the night... I thought you of all people would know that," she retorted through clenched teeth.

With a spark in her eyes made of Egan's cockiness, she spat in the oberliuentents face. As the icy droplets of saliva froze on his skin, Josef's mask of fury cracked, revealing a glimpse of something deeper within. Shaking, he slapped her across the face—sending her ailing body into the snow once more.

The frost gnawing at her skin, turning her blood to ice as she fought to get upright once more. That cold gaze bore into Celeste, his lips curled into a smirk that spoke of twisted satisfaction at her suffering. But she refused to cower, no matter how many times he struck her. With every ounce of strength she could muster, her voice laced with a fiery defiance that refused to be extinguished.

"And what of their people, offing innocents in Britain?" Her breath escaping in crystalline puffs that dissipated into the unforgiving night.—hanging in the air like a challenge that dared Josef to acknowledge the truth. But instead of meeting her gaze with remorse or empathy, Josef's response was a callous dismissal that left Celeste reeling.

"What of them?" he sneered, his tone dripping with contempt as he towered over her. .A subtle scoff passed between him and the guards standing nearby, their presence a menacing sentry against the backdrop of snow-covered pines.

With a cruel chuckle, Josef swiftly drew his sidearm and lashed out, the sharp crack echoing through the desolate landscape as it met Celeste's cheek and nose with a brutal force.

She stumbled back, a bloom of pain blossoming across her face. Gasping for breath, Celeste clutched her stinging cheek before a surge of warmth trickled down her pale fingers. Crimson stained the pristine snow around her as she fought to stay upright—body trembling with hunger and cold. A whimper escaped her as she cradled it, her eyes flashing with anger even as tears threatened to spill over.

Josef's laughter cut through the air like a knife, the cruel sound sending a shiver down Celeste's spine. As the German's eyes scanned the women standing outside the cabins, a cruel smirk played on his lips. With his gun still drawn, he raised his hands above his head as if orchestrating a twisted symphony of fear.

He quite enjoyed the moment, the attention, the fear.. The glint of the gun in his grip catching the dim light, a hush fell over the onlookers. Their eyes, filled with a mixture of dread and desperation, remained fixed on Celeste—their silent was a plea for salvation that weighed heavily on her shoulders.

"You look at it, take it in," Josef shouted, before gesturing towards Celeste—a mocking sneer twisting his features as he taunted the crowd. "This is who you were praying is going to save you? The Americans? They are weak, just look at her!"

Celeste felt a surge of defiance rising within her, pushing back against the suffocating grip. She met the gazes of the women huddled together, knowing that her faltering courage was all they had left to cling to—the fragile thread that held their hope aloft.

Josef then returns attention solely on her, but now he has a different light upon him—knowing he has an audience.
"What do I need to do for you," Josef drawled, before  pressing the barrel of his weapon harshly against Celeste's forehead, "to make you understand the pain I feel?"

Despite the overwhelming fear that gripped her heart, the American refused to back down. With a steely gaze, she met his eyes, seeing not a man but a monster whose humanity had long been forsaken. A flicker of defiance burned bright in her gaze, a silent promise that she would not yield to his cruelty.

"Oh wait," Josef's voice rang out, a sinister gleam in his eye, "The girl, yes... bring her to me..." The sudden mention sent a jolt of terror through Celeste—her mind racing with the implications of Josef's words.

Celeste's desperation welled up within her, pushing her to plead with a voice laced with fear. "No, no!" hand outstretched towards him in a plea for mercy. Despite her feeble attempts to hide behind Hilda and Beatrice, the guards callously pushed the two women aside and seized Ana without a second thought.

Every fiber of Ana resisted as she was dragged away, her nails digging into the rough uniforms of the men, where her pleas falling on deaf ears. She kicked and screamed all the way, begging them to release her. When they finally deposited her beside the towering figure of Josef, her heart pounded with fear.

The German lieutenant leaned down ever so slightly, a chilling smile playing on his lips. "Well, hello there," he greeted her, but Ana could only tremble in his cold presence—where a sense of foreboding crept over her.

As Celeste spoke up, a subtle defiance in her tone, warning Josef not to harm Ana, he simply chuckled. "Or what? You'll spit on me?" His eyes glinted with a dangerous intensity, making it clear that he was going to do something— but nothing could have prepared her for the sheer brutality of it.

Ana stood there, her arms clutching her chest protectively, shivering in the cold that pricked her skin and gnawed at her lungs. She sensed Josef's malevolent intent, but nothing could prepare her for what he had in store.

With a sharp command to the guards, Josef ordered them to fetch a piece of lumber. Celeste's eyes widened in dread as she watched them return with a thick 4 by 4 piece of wood, ominous in its simplicity.

Then the guard's boot kicked in the back of Celeste's knee with a sickening thud. She cried out in pain, a sharp sensation shooting through her body. The impact sent her stumbling foreward, her knees hitting the cold, unforgiving snow.

"Make her hold it out," Josef commanded, his gaze fixed on the ailing American. Without hesitation, the nearest guard seized her arms, forcing her to extend them outward, palms upturned.

As Celeste struggled to regain herself, he positioned the 4 by 4 onto her trembling hands—the weight causing her arms to vibrate under the strain. Her muscles screamed with the effort of holding the heavy plank aloft, her resolve waning with each passing moment.

Celeste's mind raced as she tried to steady. But Josef watched with a predatory satisfaction as her strength began to ebb— breaths coming in ragged gasps as the wood seemed to grow heavier with each passing heartbeat.

His cold gaze never wavered, enjoying every moment of her suffering as she struggled to bear the burden. With a final, cruel glint in his eyes, Josef issued one last command. "Make her hold it higher," he sneered, relishing in the sight of Celeste's anguish as she fought to comply with his demands, her body shaking with exertion and pain.

Through tear-blurred eyes, Celeste met Josef's gaze, a silent challenge smoldering in the depths of her defiance. That defiance within refused to show any weakness. She had known this was a dangerous path to be chosen, joining the Air corps, flying planes—but she never imagined it would lead to this.

As she remained upon her knees, struggling to hold the wood, Josef smugly walked over to Ana before making her drop down. He then looks up at the guards before pointing at Celeste, " If she drops it," he pauses, placing his gun against Ana's head, " Shot this one."

Ana began sobbing quietly, the tears streaming down her cheeks, as she tried to keep herself from falling apart. However, her sobs only seemed to anger Josef.

"Crying isn't going to solve anything," his tone cold and unforgiving. "You both will remain here until I feel better, and not a moment sooner."

Celeste felt a surge of frustration and helplessness wash over her, but somehow she knew arguing with Josef would only make things worse. Glancing up at Ana, the girl's once bright eyes were now dull with exhaustion and despair.

And stay there they remained...

   The brunette's teeth chattered from the bitter that seeped through her ragged clothes. Where fear gnawed at her insides, tightening its grip with each passing hour of captivity. It had been three days of torment - three days of cold, hunger, and desperation. Celeste and Ana had been forbidden to leave their spots, forced to relieve themselves where they sat.

It upmost unbearable, being humiliated like that—where everyone merely passed them side glances. Celeste's forearms ached with a pain that seemed to radiate to her very bones. The muscles had long past reached their limits, and her body shook uncontrollably. But she refused to show weakness. She had to keep pushing herself, determined to not let them see her break.

Beside her, Ana's condition was deteriorating rapidly. The girl struggled to keep herself upright, her eyelids drooping with fatigue. Celeste could see the flicker of consciousness fading in her eyes, and panic gripped her heart.

"Ana, please, don't close your eyes," Celeste whispered, her voice barely above a hoarse whisper. "We have to stay awake, we have to keep fighting."

Ana's response was a weak wince, her hands clutching her stomach in agony. "But I'm so tired," she murmured, rocking back and forth slightly as if trying to console herself.

Celeste's heart ached for her, for herself, for the nightmare they were trapped in. She knew they had to hold on, had to endure until they found a way out of this hell. Ana slowly laid down, huddling herself upon the hard ground—her breaths shallow and weak.

"Please." The American whispered beneath her breath, no tears dared to come from her eyes as there were no more to spill. Celeste's features contorted in ones of grimace. Forced to watch and do nothing as Ana slowly slipped into unconsciousness. No matter how much she tried to scream or yell, nothing but a fate tale of a whisper came forth.

And so Celeste remained on that damned position, her body fighting with her brain to give up. To let it all go, to let the pain stop. To be free of this place.

The bitter wind whirled snowflakes around her,where the snow lay undisturbed—save for a few sets of footprints leading in different directions. Her sharp eyes abruptly diverted from Ana to the arrival of a black Volkswagen at the gates.

The vehicle rumbled its way, crunching through the snow-covered ground. The guard, a stern-looking man with a rifle slung over his shoulder, stepped forward, holding up a hand to signal the driver to stop.

"Papers," he demanded in a gruff voice, his eyes scanning driver intently. As the driver fumbled with the paperwork, Lieutenant Haussmann remained in the back seat, his sharp eyes surveying the chaotic camp before him.

Snow lay undisturbed in patches, barbed wire glistened with frost, and the shadows of the watchtowers loomed ominously. It was a scene of desolation and despair, a stark contrast to the bustling city life he had left behind.

Celeste felt her breath hinge, as the arrival of the Lieutenant meant more scrutiny, new orders, perhaps even more suffering to endure.

But as the guard handed the papers back, there was movement just beyond. Haussmann practically had to do a double take to make sure he saw it correctly. A figure lay motionless in the snow, a small, fragile form almost concealed by the blanket of white. Beside her, another figure shook uncontrollably, clutching a block of wood in her hands.

Haussmann's furrowed brow betrayed his unease as he swiftly leaned forward—placing a hand upon the driver's shoulder. "Please proceed," he instructed curtly, prompting the Volkswagen to lurch forward. When the vehicle came to a halt, the lieutenant wasted no time in stepping out, his boots crunching softly on the snow-covered ground.

"Oh my," he whispered under his breath, his eyes widening in horror at the sight before him. A little girl, barely more than a child, lay curled up on the ground, her cheeks drained of color.

The air was thick with the smell of decay and despair. The woman in front of him, sat with her shoulders slightly slumped. Those once vibrant eyes now hollow and vacant.

It took a moment for Haussmann to register that he had finally found her. The woman he had been searching for, the one he had feared he would never find. The one he promised Egan. His chest constricted at the sight of her, so starkly different from the photograph in his hand, a cruel reminder of the atrocities she had endured.

The paperwork had led him to her, but nothing could have prepared him for the harsh reality of her condition. Haussmann's breath caught in his throat as he took in the extent of her injuries.

Celeste stirred, her movements sluggish and barely audible. Ice crystals clung to her eyelashes, and her breath came out in labored gasps. Her lips were tinged with a pale blue, a stark contrast to the vibrant red lipstick she once wore.

As Haussmann knelt beside her, his gloved hands moved with purpose, trying to gently pry the wood from her hands.
"What is this?!" Haussmann's voice cut through the quiet darkness, a mix of anger and despair lacing his words. His gaze then settled on a young guard, the urgency in his eyes unmistakable. "You," he beckoned, "Help me with this."

With the guard's hesitant assistance, both men pushed the wood off of her palms—with it hitting the ground echoing through the courtyard. Celeste flinched at the sudden movement. Her eyes flickering with a mixture of fear and confusion.

Haussmann's heart clenched at the sight, a deep sense of guilt gnawing at him. Guilt for not finding her sooner, for not being able to protect her from this cruel fate.

The luftwaffee lieutenant carefully tended to her, taking her blistered and bleeding palms into his. "I'm so sorry," he whispered— voice laced with genuine remorse. Celeste, her spirit fading, tried to speak but only a hoarse whisper escaped her parched lips.

Haussmann, a man burdened by duty and compassion in equal measure, felt her unspoken question hanging in the air. "I'm here on orders to bring you back." Celeste's eyes sought his for answers, a silent plea for understanding.

Before Haussmann could elaborate further, a new presence made itself known. Josef. The commandant's son strode towards them, his expression a mixture of concern and indignation. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

Haussmann's eyes narrowed as he stood to his feet. "Why is she here?" His voice was a mix of frustration and empathy. But Josef merely narrowed his eyes, hands finding his hips. "I have orders to take this American to a POW camp," he then asserted.

"And who gave you these orders?" Josef's voice was sharp, a glint of defiance in his eyes as Haussmann was quick to  brandished the paperwork.

"My superior," the luftwaffee lieutenant retorted, his stance unwavering. As both men argued, Celeste tried reaching for Ana's form, but it was far too great of a task. She lowered her head into the snow, her arm still outstretched. That was until she felt a hand grabbing ahold of her arm. Before being gently picking up by Haussmann. He anchored her arm around his neck, allowing her head to lay upon his shoulder whilst making her lean her weight onto him.

Haussmann lifted Celeste gently, cradling her fragile form in his arms. Her breath came in shallow gasps, her body trembling with the effort to stay conscious. His jaw clenched as he felt her frailty against him, a surge of protectiveness overwhelming his senses.

Slowly they made their way towards the vehicle. Celeste tried to stop, tried digging her heels into the ground; but her body's strength was not there.

As Celeste was gingerly placed on the plush leather seats of the car, a serene calmness seemed to wash over her. The soft purr of the engine and the subdued light enveloped her in a cocoon of safety. But her mind was still consumed with worry for Ana.

As he followed behind her, Celeste's fingers clutched at Haussmann's wrist, her voice a mere whisper in the howling wind, "Please, help her." Those words hung heavy in the air, a plea that echoed with unspoken desperation. But Haussmann knew he couldn't just help the girl.

Her eyelids fluttered closed, her tenuous grip slipping away. Until, slowly leaning her head against the door, her world faded into black... Haussmann's gaze lingered on her delicate features, etched with bruises and exhaustion. As he pondered the weight of his decision, he thought back to the little girl, could he truly save her?

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STALUG III
LUFTWAFFE ALLIED POW CAMP
DECEMBER 1944

      || CELESTE'S EYES FLUTTERED OPEN, HEART HAMMERING AGAINST HER CHEST. It took a moment, trying to make sense of her surroundings. The dim light filtering through the car window slowly illuminated her face. Panic set in as she realized she wasn't in the familiar confines of the camp but in the back seat of this unfamiliar vehicle.

The last thing she remembered was being taken away from that hellish place before it faded to black—the first peaceful slumber she had in what felt like an eternity. Her dreams had been plagued by memories of her father, his worried expression etched into her mind. Then to Ana and to Egan... Was Ana alive? Or dead? Oh the thought was sending her into a deep depression. She had failed at protecting once again...

A sudden creaking noise startled Celeste, her head jerking towards the sound. Two German guards stood outside, their stern faces illuminated by the harsh light. As they slowly opened the door, Celeste's instincts kicked in, and she recoiled, pressing herself into the corner of the car, using her feet to push back against the approaching figures.

"Please, no, I won't go back," she pleaded, a tremor in her voice as she felt the hands of the guards reaching out to pull from the vehicle. Her mind raced, memories flooding back in rapid succession – the camp, the suffering, the loss. Dread settled deep in her stomach as she was dragged from the car and pushed towards a waiting truck, its engine rumbling ominously in the background.

Celeste's breaths came in ragged gasps as she tried to resist, her mind struggling to grasp the situation unfolding before her. Why had the lieutenant intervened only to deliver her back into the clutches of that hellish place? Anguish and fear welled up inside her, propelling her to fight back, to resist the inevitable return to a life she had hoped to escape.

"No, I can't go back," she repeated, her voice rising in desperation as she clawed and scratched at the guards, her nails leaving red marks on their uniforms. Each step towards the awaiting truck felt like a step closer to her own demise, a return to a reality she had worked so hard to leave behind.

As Celeste's huffs grew louder and her struggles more frantic, the guards tightened their grip, their expressions unreadable behind their stoic masks. The world around her blurred as she was forcibly ushered up into the vehicle, but instead of seeing women, there was...pilots.

And not just any pilots, they were men of a fighter regiment, Tuskegee. They all looked upon her as she made her way to a seat. Their faces etched in worry and confusion. Would they endure the save fate as her?

Celeste took a seat the far corner, away from the light. The splintering wood definitely wasn't a pleasant feeling but it was a lot better than having nothing. All the pilots seemed to watch as the guards lift the tailgate and shut it, before locking it.

Then the fabric over flaps that were attached to the sides of the truck were draped over the opening. She heard a few of the guards crack a couple of jokes before they headed towards the front.

Celeste could felt the truck's weight shift as the drivers piled in, sticking the keys into the ignition and starting the old hunk of metal. The truck's engine groaned and whined as it started warming up. As soon as the engine finally reached the maximum it needed and quit with unnecessary bucking, it revved with an unbearable noise.

The noise seamlessly dug into her skull. The gear shifted and the truck jumped forwarded, ripping at the dirt road much like a race horse at the gate. Not only was the trucks engine to be heard but there was something else added onto it, the squeaking noise of the metal with every bump. The hinges that closed the tailgate was likely the culprit.

Then they were off heading to wherever. One of the Tuskegee airmen took a liking to her, watching her ever closely. He took in the sight the war torn fabric of her jacket and uniform. No longer did they conform like the expensive officer fabric it once was.

Many of the men inside held their heads low, their eyes either fixed upon the floor or closed as they desperately tried to clasp as much sleep as possible. Some bore the thousand yard stare, staring into the floorboards of the truck with such intent that perhaps they saw something there that she didn't.

Only then did she noticed one of the men sat with his head tilted back. Whilst the other pilot placed his hand as a makeshift pillow. Dried blood had seeped into his uniform and hands. There was a silence to them all, a silence that they all knew where they were going and it wasn't good.

The lieutenant watched her, she was lost deep in thought, her eyes fixed at the two unfamiliar faces, worn from battle, trying to stay strong despite the circumstances. She could sense the exhaustion in their eyes, the weight of their duty pressing down on them. Her concern for their well-being was genuine, a rarity in a world where most turned a blind eye to the struggles of others.

"Is he okay?" Celeste's voice was soft, filled with a blend of compassion and curiosity. The two other pilots, exchanged a surprised glance at her words. It was unusual for someone to show such interest in their welfare, especially amidst the chaos of war. Most felt they shouldn't be flying.

"Macon will be fine, just a rough landing," the pilot reassured her, before extending a hand in friendship. "I'm Daniels, 301st Fighter Squadron. And you, a C-47 pilot I presume?"

Celeste's timid smile blossomed as she clasped his hand in hers. "Chief Leader Celeste Jefferson, 449th Cargo Squadron," she introduced softly. Grimacing slightly as she leaned back against the metal beam.

The mention of the shared surname between the pilots elicited a chuckle from the other pilot, highlighting the ironic twist of fate that had brought them together. "What are the odds," he mused, finding at-least some humor in this reality.

Jefferson's laughter faded as he observed Celeste more closely. "You look like you've been through hell, ma'am," he remarked, noting the weariness etched into her features.

Despite the levity, Celeste's laughter was tinged with bitterness, followed by a pained cough. "Hell would've been better," she admitted, her voice laden with exhaustion.

"You're strong," Daniels remarked, his tone a mixture of admiration and respect. "Strong for enduring what you have."

A bittersweet smile tugged at Celeste's lips as she fought back another cough. Her mind drifted back to a time before the war, to dreams of a different life filled with promise and ambition. But the cruel realities of conflict had shattered those aspirations, leaving her with scars both seen and unseen. The loss of Ana, her comrade and friend, had only deepened the emptiness that consumed her.

As the truck lurched to a stop, the sound of men chattering outside brought her back to the present. As they conversed, Celeste's mind wandered to a time before the war, when she was simply a girl with dreams of studying anthropology, the daughter of a respected official. How quickly everything had changed, how swiftly her life had been upended by the brutal grasp of conflict. Her body bore scars that would never fade, a constant reminder of the sacrifices made in the name of duty.

And Ana, Maria her closest friend and confidante, was no more—a casualty of the very war that had reshaped their world. What remained for Celeste, apart from memories tainted by loss? Nothing...

As the covers flew open, the sun invaded the dark once more. Many of the men rose up their hands up to block the glaring sun. Celeste mustered just enough strength to do the same.

But through the light, Celeste could make out two soldiers, both in grey uniforms with a rifle loosely hanging of their shoulders. One had a finer haircut than the other and but in the end both had been clean shaven like they had not possibly seen the war at all. Both soldiers hazily examined everyone in the truck before finally unbuckling the latch that kept all the prisoners confined there against their will.

One man whispered to the other as they let loose of the tailgate letting it fall freely against the back of the truck without care. The resulting sound was quite unpleasant to the ear. The sound felt as if it vibrated throughout the truck and up through her body, leaving unpleasant feeling.

" Come on!" The man yelled in the thickest accent she had never heard. Other guards quickly joined in, brandishing their weapons to push the prisoners.

Celeste immediately stood to her feet, almost falling down but Daniels was there to offer help. She thanked him under her breath before the line slowly starting moving as the four men climbed down one by one. It was now, here that their future had no telling and the hope of ever seeing home again was nothing but a mire flicker of flame in the dark....

Each solumly hung their heads low; avoiding eye contact with the per-say enemy. They were quick to follow the shouting commands of the agitated guards—even with the know language barrier, the enraged shouting was enough to get them moving. Celeste followed closely behind Macon and Jefferson.

The sun was even brighter than before against her delicate green eyes, causing her squirt at the painful yellowish rays. She faced the palm of her hand up towards the sun in the use for shade. But it only seemed to help a tad with her sight.

Daniels was quick to take Celeste, holding her hands to carefully guide her down the truck's steps. As each step faltered and trembled under the weight of uncertainty, Celeste found solace in the silent strength of Daniels beside her. The once unknown camaraderie between them now cemented by trials untold.

They were then herded towards the barbed wire and wooden beams of the camp—to their new home. As Daniels expertly navigated the tumultuous sea of chaotic bodies at the POW camp entrance, brimming with American pilots desperate for any sign of their comrades.

With each step, she leaned on him, her strength was waning. She hadn't eaten or drank in days. With a bated breath, Celeste scanned the crowd, her heart heavy searching for a flicker of familiarity among the sea of unknown faces. Every pair of eyes held a world of sorrow, of tales left untold, of scars worn both seen and unseen.

Some of the Americans grimaced at the prospect of sharing cabins with men of another race. Their prejudices laid bare under the harsh reality of survival.

Others remarked about seeing a woman taken as a POW, that the nazis would take anything as prisoners. Celeste sensing Daniels discomfort at the some of men's comments, assured him to not listen to their deafening words.

She felt the pang of discomfort at the words being thrown around, a reminder of the ugliness that war could unearth in even the most ordinary of men. But there were men that respected the Tuskegee men and praised them as they walked past. Thanking them for saving their asses.

Celeste flashed Daniels a meek smile, glad she was proven right. Some even acknowledged her jacket's emblem and thanked her for her service in getting much needed supplies delivered.

Hearing the praises made tears welled up—no matter how she tried to fight them. Listening to their words, the weight on her shoulders lifting ever so slightly. She had often questioned the toll of her sacrifices, the pain and suffering endured for a cause greater than herself. But in that moment, surrounded by those whose lives she had touched, she realized that it had all been worth it.

The air crackled as shouts and cries reverberated through the camp. Men embraced, some hoarse with relief, others with somber expressions etched on their weary faces. Yet, for Celeste, the overwhelming sense of dread lingered like a specter—-haunting her every move as she scanned the crowd with a restless urgency.

Amidst the chaos, a sense of urgency enveloped them, urging them to move forward despite the uncertainty that loomed over the camp like a dark cloud. Celeste's heart sank as she realized the absence of her men, the void left echoing loudly in her mind. The entire time she thought they were alive.

But when despair threatened to consume her, a voice cut through all the other cries—calling out her name with such fervor that it seemed to pierce through the chaos like a ray of light in the darkness. Celeste's eyes widened as she slowly lifted her sight towards the source of the voice, her heart leaping at the sight that awaited.....

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AUTHORS NOTE
——

IM SO SORRY IT TOOK FOREVERRRRR
BUT ITS HERE NOW

ONLY LKKE 2-3 MORE CHAPTERS AND WE ARE DONEEEEE

Also, next chapter is a big surprise,
we finna see someone
we never thought we'd see again... 👀👀