Going Underground [OPEN]

[SGT. Trevor D. Hawk]

Location:[/b] London Underground (tube station)
Time:[/b] 10:46PM


The noise had become comforting as the Germans dropped their payloads overhead of London in their vast arrays of random bombardments. From underground, they had began to sound like distant pops and crackles of thunder. Trevor always did enjoy the stormy weather, it brought back better memories of the nights he was thankful to have a shelter over his head; the soft soothing sound of the water beating against the tiles on the roof and pattering at his window would wail like a lullaby and ease him off to sleep. Now, hiding underground whilst the Germans let rip up above had somehow become to sound no more than a passing storm. Perhaps it was a good thing he could stay so calm given the ordeal London was going through or perhaps he should awake to reality? Trevor shrugged the feeling of callousness from off his shoulders, he was a good man at heart, but this was a forty-eight-hour leave from the war, he deserved to be calm and stress free, just for this small while.

Further down the opposite end of the station's platform, a few VSO girls had put on a cabaret performance for the people residing underground tonight. The atmosphere was calm, if not cheery? People were buzzing with talk amongst themselves in small groups and many more jeered at the attractive woman flaunting their long legs and petite bodies during the performance. Trevor grinned. Nothing seemed abnormal about their situation whatsoever, it was as if he'd walked into the twilight zone or a parallel universe. How could these people be so calm and cheerful, when a direct bomb could so easily impound the ceiling above their heads upon them? Trevor did recall some of the strafing payloads of bombs coming a little close at times, everybody knew it, the lights would flicker or dim; followed by the sudden pause of everyone's breath as the walls would creek and shudder. Mostly however, the bombs landed distantly tonight.

Standing to his feet, Trevor pulled himself up from off the floor and brushed some of the grit that had sprinkled from the ceiling from off his khaki uniform. Retrieving his tin helmet from off the floor, which he'd been sitting on, Trevor walked calmly through the people and avoided stepping on those either laying or sitting on the ground. Eventually Trevor made his way to a Warden standing on guard by the platform's entrance; so nobody entered or exited the platform without his knowledge. He stood guard by a long winding staircase that lead up towards the station's entrance, which was in turn closed off and locked by a gate. The station was under lock-down until the Germans' had finished their bombing or most probably by morning; so the civilians didn't get in the way of emergency service rescues in the aftermath.

Pulling out a slightly bent cigarette from his pocket, Trevor nodded to the Warden as he lit his cigarette. “Heard any news?” Trevor asked quietly, not wanting any prying ears to overhear something that could either worry them or cause mass panic if the Warden decided to tell the gritty details he may have heard since the bombing had started. “Nothing – Sergeant” the Warden smugly replied. “We won't know what's happening until Jerry decides to pack up and we can get on with our business” the Warden spoke, his chin protruding out a little and his lips getting tight by the thought of whether he'd have a home to return too or not after tonight passed through his mind. Trevor simply nodded again, taking a drag on his cigarette once more. “Well if you hear anything, let me know” Trevor asked, before he walked away. He wanted to know what was happening above ground, he felt as if he should be doing something to help the people above – yet the other half of him just wanted a quiet night.

Solemnly, Trevor wandered back through the people and watched the VSO girls during their performance once more. Sucking on his cigarette, he waited patiently for the bombing to stop. Perhaps he could write a letter or something? No, bad idea. He didn't have anybody to be writing too. Maybe he should get some sleep? The noise was comforting. Still, Trevor knew he wouldn't be able to switch off just yet, the atmosphere was buzzing still and wasn't quite everybody's bed time. So, Trevor just stood there and watched the VSO girls do a jig on their makeshift stage, whilst smoking his cigarette and contemplating his next move. He'd noticed a few other soldiers loitering around, but didn't feel like one for conversation; then suddenly the lights flickered and went out., everyone gasped their possible last breath and clasped one another in the darkness out of fright. Trevor's arm was snagged by a young woman clutching his forearm, the walls shuddered and vibrated, the metal railing of the closed gate above could be heard clattering as a close bomb dropped by the station...

Moments later, the lights came back on and everybody was frozen in momentary shock still. A few people laughed it off, but most knew the seriousness of what could have been. Abruptly, the VSO girls carried on their performance and their music drowned out the awkwardness – Trevor prided the young woman's hands from off his forearm and smirked. He wasn't one for cuddles.

[Deleted]

The comforting noise below ground was not as comfortable above ground, and it was even less attractive in the air. From his vantage point Sam could see the fleet of bombers seeming to drift lazily along in the dark sky, rows and rows of bombs falling from their open bellies, plummeting down to the streets of London before exploding in the streets and amongst the buildings. The only resistance the bombers had to face were scattered anti-air fire coming up from what seemed to be random locations on the ground. The white-hot tracers that flew up into the sky were almost beautiful, but even as Sam watched he saw the pretty lights cut through the right wing of an unlucky bomber. The massive bomber banked hard to the right as one of its engines caught fire and the pilots tried to keep it in the air. They were successful enough and managed to regain a semblance of control over the aircraft before turning off their course and retreating away from the city.

It was a small victory for the crew of the anti-air gun however. The bombers had protectors with them, and it was one of these protectors that dropped down out of the clouds, the flashing light of the anti-air guns and the flowering explosions illuminated the sleek hull of the fighter as it descended from the heavens, pulling up sharply, almost at the last minute and a second later the area around the anti-air gun was ablaze with an all consuming fire.

Sam narrowed his eyes as he watched the fighter peel off and begin to regain altitude. He pushed on his stick and his own fighter dropped from its current course and drove down hard towards the enemy fighter. This was how the allies were taking out the bombers protectors. They waited until one of them showed their nose, and then simply punched it. The enemy pilot was more alert then Sam would have hoped for though, and he must of seen Sam coming because instead of continuing to climb, he banked hard to the right and tried to run. Sam had a height advantage, and in any battle, the high ground was always preferable. As Sam got the fighter into range he let off a quick burst of machine gun fire. The rounds rocketed towards their target but overshot him, missing the enemy fighter and slamming uselessly into a building.

He didn’t feel sorry for putting a few holes in a building, compared to the amount of damage that was already being done to the city, a few bullets was the least of anyone’s problems. Sam followed the enemy fighter as it tried to swerve and roll out of the way, using evasive actions to avoid Sam’s firing line. It was pretty standard stuff, but they were getting close to the ground now, and manoeuvring through a city wasn’t as fun as people might think. As it was the fighter was only just missing the tops of the buildings, dodging around AA fire easily and trying not to get hit from Sam. The pilot must be either very skilled or very stupid to even attempt this sort of flying.

He was just bringing the tail of the fighter into his sights when his cockpit seemed to explode around him. The glass canopy shattered as bullets ripped through it and smacked into the control console and engine. The plane began shuddering and shaking violently as a second enemy fighter passed overhead. So that’s what had happened. The first fighter was simply drawing Sam into an ambush, and now he was in trouble. His controls had been smashed, the enemy pilot had been going for an instant kill shot by aiming for Sam himself, but had thankfully been a little too high. The engine had also taken a beating and Sam could hear it screaming to stop, his precious fighter was in its death throws, spasming and coughing as it quickly lost altitude. Sam had no control, all he could do was hold on.

The fighter’s left wing clipped a building and was ripped off, leaving a messy stump of broken framework and a shredded hull. The force of the collision caused the fighter to twist about and it hit the ground side on, its right wing grinding against the road as the plane slid. The right wing finally gave way and the fighter rolled once like a tube before coming to a rest near the end of the street, Sam unconscious inside.

Sam’s vision was blurry as he cracked open his eyes, trying to look about to see what his situation was. He was the right way up, that was a start, and alive so far. Oh yes, painfully alive. The pain ripped through him like a bolt of lightning, and the clearer his vision became he began to see why he was hurting so much. He’d been shot down. Fancy that. His memory slowly came back to him as he continued looking around. The shattered cockpit, the bullet holes in the engine, the flames flickering… Flames flickering? Suddenly panic gripped him, fire in an engine was never a good thing. He moved as quickly as he could in order to get the straps that were pinning him to his seat off. Ripping at the buckles before they came loose and he reached up to grab the frame of the canopy, pain shot up his legs as he lifted himself out of the seat and through the canopy, the broken glass gave him several small cuts on his hands, arms and legs but he would gladly take them if it meant he could get out quicker.

He dropped to the ground and crumpled into a heap on the road, a cry of pain being ripped from his lungs as he tried to get back to his feet. Stumbling and swearing he managed to half walk half crawl away from the burning fighter. He had no idea where he was going; all he wanted to do was to put some distance between him and the plane. If it didn’t explode, the enemy fighters would no doubt circle back and rip it up with their cannons to make sure he was dead. He found himself travelling back the way he had come, following the ripped up road from where the fighter had slid. Looking around he spotted the entrance to a subway. Underground was the safest place in a bombing raid, and he needed to get out of sight before the fighters came back.

Tripping and falling he made his way over to the gate, pushing on it before going to step through. But the gate didn’t budge, it was locked and as hard as Sam tried he couldn’t force it. He collapsed to his knees, dimly aware of the blood drooling down his face from a cut on his forehead. Maybe there were people inside? Using the subway as a shelter? Of course there would be, where else would they go? Sam started shaking the gate, trying to make as much noise as he could to be heard over the falling bombs. He started shouting too, his lungs and throat protesting at the loud noises they were being forced to emit. He shook and shouted for a while longer before his strength started to drain from him, the strong shakes becoming weaker and weaker and his shouting turning into more of a groan. He had to get their attention, summoning everything he had left, he let out a call for help and bashed at the gate.

[SGT. Trevor D. Hawk]

Since the lights had dimmed and everyone froze in awe of meeting St. Peter at the pearly gates of heaven, the atmosphere quickly whip-lashed back into the direction of a buzzing and entertaining state it was prior. Trevor was memorised by the calm and happy attitude everyone carried, even after such a close call they just encountered; maybe it was a false pretence and masked veil people felt they had to wear? A masked happiness and calm solitude they portrayed in order to keep hope, faith and spirits high? Trevor couldn't quite put his finger on it, he didn't really understand why everyone could be so jovial during a time of need and desperation they were facing. Maybe everyone thought tonight could be the last night they lived? So why not party and enjoy the time they had left? Trevor's mind swelled and spun at the many corners and twists he tried to wrap his mind around the happy atmosphere that was erupting around himself.

Sucking on his cigarette to ease the faint anxiety lurking in the back of his mind, Trevor turned to watch the VSO girls once more, their continuing performance acting like a constant distraction to the people. Almost three quarters of the people underground and inside the station were watching the girls flaunt and chirp their songs. The men were getting the most enjoyment out of it, of course, but even the young woman amongst the audience daydreamed about prospering careers they could have on stage after the eventual end of the war. Trevor himself dulled in a relaxation of thought as he watched the woman perform on stage, lulled into an affixed dream of having a beautiful woman hanging from his arm and maybe even looking forwards to the future of starting a family of his own after the war it's self. Trevor began to feel himself lighten a little at the thought, becoming intoxicated by the people's shared jovial atmosphere, despite the carnage happening above ground. Trevor finally put his finger on why everyone was relaxed, calm and happy; they all still had their dreams and tonight, just like tomorrow night and the night after when the Germans come bombing again, this small tube station they come to hide in, will become and has become their only sanctuary away from the war. Down here men, woman, boys and girls dreamed about the future and bonded together like an enormous family. This wasn't like going down the pub and enjoying a drink with friends, no, the atmosphere had become homely and at the same time, the war felt as it it were happening in another life time somewhere. The faint thuds and crackles of bombs erupting above ground merely sounded like a faint storm drifting along in the distance, never to rain on their parade.

Trevor surprisingly embraced the warm feeling of the jovial intoxication, the lull of forgetting the war tonight and looked to the entertainment being performed on stage with a slight smile to his lips. He could envisage a clarified picture of the world being just like this when the war had been won and when the war had ended foremost. People would talk with big smiles on their face, just as they were doing tonight and the young ones would look forward to a future they knew they would be getting. No uncertainty of death lingering so close. Trevor embraced the feeling, shared the atmosphere everyone else carried and dulled the faint ache lurking in the back of his mind by simply smoking his cigarette all the more and he began to feel free from the shackles that banded him all over and weighed him down. That was until a commotion by the underground platform's entrance buzzed, catching him aware in the corner of his eye and like a rippling effect through the crowd of people, turned everyone's attention away from the lull of weightlessness and dreaming they all had become sunken into.

The chief warden by the platform's opening, whom he had spoken to earlier, was prised in a worrying conversation with another warden – lesser looking, if he must add – with a distinctive jangling of keys between them, looped on a large keyring you certainly could never lose in your pocket, if fit. Immediately, Trevor's daydream shattered and melted away, along with a few other brethren soldiers who caught wisp of what was happening. Quickly, Trevor moved through the crowd and stubbed his cigarette onto one of the few heavy support pillars in-placed to help keep the ceiling above their heads staying that way from any large eruptions or vibrations that could shatter and break their world beneath. Standing before the chief warden and his companion, Trevor interrupted their panic state with a worried look of his own. “What's happening?” he curiously, yet worrying asked. A few other soldiers closed in behind himself by now and listened carefully themselves, almost everyone else in the station had begun to converge at the platform's opening, hoping to listen and hear the news of what was going on. It did, after-all, involve everyone if the wardens had heard news from above.

The chief warden aggravatingly replied, as he stumbled in trying to find a particular key on the set of at least fifty keys jingling from the large keyring he held. “Look, I need to find this bloody key for the gate upstairs”[/i] he said between sifting through the many keys, the cheif warden's companion gave more detail however as to what was going on “A man – pilot – his at the gates upstairs! I was sitting behind the ticket booth, just keeping watch, when a bomb or something came close and knocked the lights out. I was going to come down and see if everyone was ok, but then this man, pilot or something, he was at the gates! He looks pretty beat. I just came straight down, only the chief warden has the key to the main gate”[/i] the young man stammered and spluttered out, using his hands to speak the whole time he spoke. Trevor inhaled sharply, everyone suddenly wanted to help in the situation and a mass panic broke out to help the man, pilot even, stuck outside the station.

Pushing his arms out, Trevor stopped a few people trying to get by to run upstairs on impulse to help the man. “STOP! Everybody back on the platform!” he yelled out, using his NCO initiative to take control of the situation. “You --” he said pointing towards one of the uniformed soldiers standing by himself, he didn't know them personally, but still pulled rank on the uniforms to help out “I want you to keep guard at the platform's entrance here and don't let anyone up the stairs, they'll just get in the way and put themselves in needless danger” he ordered, before turning to the next uniformed man by his side. “Go call for any doctors or nurses. Anyone that can help medically and bring them upstairs. Quickly, GO!” and without hesitation, the soldier pushed off onto the platform yelling for any doctors amongst the crowd. Looking to the few other uniformed men standing by, Trevor simply ordered them to follow with a coil of the hand, motioning them to come with him, before he snagged the keys out of the clumsy chief warden's hands and ran upstairs. “YOU FOOL, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?”[/i] the chief warden shouted after the soldiers taking advantage of the situation, but Trevor ignored him, so did everyone else.

Ascending the long stairway and making it to the top, Trevor moved quickly across the dusted ground and leapt over a ticket barrier between two wooden booths. Everyone else followed suit and it was one of the soldiers following that spotted the man at the gates first; “Over there!” he yelled, pointing towards what looked like a shroud of clothing crumpled into a pile against the bottom of the gates. Trevor was amazed it was actually a person. Doubling over to the entrance, Trevor shook out the keys he was holding and observed the lock on the gate, before observing the keys he held between his hands. Jingling one out in particular he thought matched the lock, he gave it a twirl in the hole and unlocked it with a fashionable quick time; lady luck was on his side tonight! Ushering the men to open the gates quickly, they were drawn back with ease and Trevor folded his arms up under the man's armpits, dragging him into the station. “Alright lad, I've got you” Trevor said reassuringly, not knowing if he was concisions or unconscious, but acted fast on getting him off the street and under some sort of shelter foremost. Everyone was shocked by what they could see on the street; although shrouded by darkness, the debris and fire were hugely apparent through the drifting smoke and their homeland, England, looked like a battleground.

Looking back to the man he dragged into the station, who was wearing a pilot's uniformed fatigue, Trevor ripped open the man's shirt and tunic, looking for any torso wounds, before he leveraged the pilot onto his side a small fraction and ran his hand up the man's back feeling for any back wounds. He seemed to be clean enough. “No torso wounds” he clarified for the other soldiers crowding around the pilot also, trying to help. “Check his legs” Trevor said to one of the soldiers close enough to look, who knelt down and looked. “There's blood, but I can't tell”[/i] he responded to Trevor, who merely acknowledged with a nod, before turning to face the pilot on the floor before himself. “What's your name mate?” he asked, not knowing if the man was awake or out of it. “Can you hear me fella'?” he asked again, whilst he turned the pilot's head slightly, noticing a large wound on his head that oozed a great deal of blood. “Was anyone else with you...?” he questioned again, not wanting to overwhelm the injured pilot, but needed quick answers if they were to act in time to either save anyone else or the pilot himself. He had to keep the pilot awake, he knew that much at least, typically with a head wound.

[Deleted]

He continued to bash on the gate, his vision was so blurry that he couldn’t see the man rush off from the ticket counter, he could barely see anything, it was too dark, everything was too dark. Sam became overcome with a wave of exhaustion, his legs gave out and he slumped to the ground, leaning against the gate for support but rather then holding him up the cool steal bars let him slip down into himself. Sam began to think that he would sink through the ground if he kept going. His arms fell from the bars and dropped uselessly to his sides. How could he have been baited? He was better then that, he should have known that the German would have had a friend in the sky watching his back. How many times had he and Greg pulled the same manoeuvre to cocky pilots? Maybe that was it, maybe he had become too cocky, too bold… there was an old saying he had heard from another pilot who’s father had fought in the Great War. “There are old pilots, and there are bold pilots, but there are no old bold pilots.”

Why? It was simple, the bold pilots always did things their own way, always went the extra step or dove into the most dangerous situations, while the old pilots played it smart, they waited for back up and worked out a plan. Sam should have called for a wingman to join him; he should have called for some form of back up. Of course “Should Of” didn’t help him now. He wrapped his arms around himself, his sore and battered muscles aching and he toppled over onto his side, his head hurt, his whole body hurt. No one was coming for him, they would all be underground safely drinking or eating, and in the morning after the raid they would come topside and find his body and wreaked fighter, battered and beaten and overall dead.

He thought of his sister, Jessica. As her face came into his mind so did her voice, reciting a poem that she had given him long ago.

You spread your wings and reach for the sky
And sore free and clear.
You leave your home and friends behind
And all those you hold dear
You’ve flown so long and far and wide
Across lands both old and new
You’ve lost your way and roam alone
In a sky of radiant blue
And though your gone forever more
What a wonderful life you’ve made
Find a way to return home
Before your loved ones fade

Sam’s eyes flickered as he fought to stay conscious. Find a way to return home, before your loved ones fade. He hadn’t been home for years, he hadn’t seen them for years and if he closed his eyes he would never see them again. He began reciting the poem in a rasping whisper, he wouldn’t die here, he would return home as soon as he could and see his sister again.

He tried to move but pain shot through him, he had made it to the gates on pure adrenalin and now that it was leaving him his limbs seemed to weight five times their normal weight, they didn’t even seem to be a part of him. He was surprised when he started moving, at first he thought it was under his own power and that he had found some hidden reserve of energy and strength and he was getting back up. The roof of the subway station came into his view and thought he was about to bang his head on the gate, but instead of the clanging on the metal he passed through the open bars. The gate was open and he was through them, a horrible sound assaulted his ears, the world had become a mostly silent place, but now there was a sound, forcing its way into his brain. Sam rolled his head back and looked up at a man, a soldier, who was dragging him into the safety of the subway station.

Sam’s heart leapt as he realised he was being rescued; someone had heard him and had come up out of the underground to bring him into the peaceful darkness. The overhead lights seemed dull, fuzzy, as if they weren’t as bright as they should be, but Sam was looking at everything through a mask of blood. The horrible sounds finally became unscrambled and formed words; the soldier was talking to another person, to other people! There was more then one man helping him! He had to let them know he was alive and he tried to say. “Hey guys, cheers for getting me, I’ll buy you all a round once the bombings stop.” But all that came out was a long groan of mumbled words. They where checking him out, searching for wounds probably, Sam didn’t want to think of the cuts he would have gotten when he climbed out of the shattered cockpit. There would probably be a large number of cuts and scratches all up his arms and legs, he was surprised when one of the men said that he had no torso wounds, he tried to express this surprise but found that his mouth wouldn’t form the words.

The guy who seemed to be in charge was talking again; it took a few seconds for Sam to register his words as questions directed at him. His name? He opened his mouth and groaned. Hang on, that wasn’t his name. He swallowed hard and tried again.
“Sa- Sam.” He coughed out, the next question he answered with a feeble shake of his head. There had been no one else with him, no one else in the plane that was probably burning quite well by now. His throat was so dry and sore, he tried to focus on the solider that had asked him the questions and responded with one of his own.
“What’s your name?” He coughed again, his lungs screaming at him to just sit there and breath.
His eyes flickered and his head dropped back a little, his brain was warning him that it was about to switch off for a while, but he fought it to say on. He couldn’t black out, not now, he still believed that if he let himself fall into unconsciousness, it would be the end of him.

Outside the German fighters had circled around and had lined up the downed fighter, not content with letting the pilot burn they opened up with their cannons, raking fire over the burning wreak before pulling up into the sky, no doubt the German pilots would be putting another skull on the side of their planes, believing they had just killed another enemy to their fatherland.

[PuNk! ™]

Moderation Post:

[/b][/center]

The following thread has been closed and command points (CP) issued to all parties participating within the thread:

Trevor Hawk:[/b] 5CP
~Shame you went inactive, the thread was a great read.

Sam Coller[/b] 5CP

~Danny[/color]