Spring Protection

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic
Spring Protection is about the two best friends, Stephen and Brian, who find themselves defending the British shores against German invasion.

Submitted: October 10, 2014

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Submitted: October 10, 2014

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Spring Protection

After the six hours of 'learning' at our school, most of which was spent looking out at the blossoming trees in the schoolyard, watching the blossom fall from them, like a hail of pink snowflakes falling freely as we were stuck inside. The day had been warm, and concentrating was difficult. I was glad it was my last year in that place.

The sound of the bell was like music. The contrast to the teachers rambling about politics. The teachers orders for us not to run almost went unheard in the swarm of pupils rushing to the door. Just as I was leaving;

"Stephen!" I heard from behind me. I turned with a struggle in the crowd, greeted by my friend Brian.

"Brian!" I chuckled, as he tried to push his way through the students towards me. I turned back to the main doors, which now seemed like a light at the end of a tunnel. The fresh air was great. It washed away the hours of boredom. After Brian, our other friends and I met up, we began walking to the centre of the village.

After a few minutes of walking, we eventually reached the square, and started to wander around. They bought sweets, but I spent my money on the latest war comic to add to my collection. By the time we'd spent all of our money, that we heard the sound of a truck engine in the distance. It was strange, as we were used to hearing tractors, and knew their sound almost off by heart. The noise drew closer, until the vehicles came into sight.

Three army trucks, and two cars. They inroad their way to the square, then stopped. They were empty. All of the trucks were empty.

"Why do you think they are here?" I asked my friends, and was answered by their silence, I knew they were thinking what I refused to think. A man dressed like an officer climbed out of a car, and looked around, us catching his attention. A table was set up, and he sat down at it. Another soldier was sent over to us. We exchanged nervous glances, but kept ourselves under control.

"Age? All of you." he asked dryly. He obviously knew we were over sixteen, so we all confirmed. He pointed at the table.

"On you go." he said, so we did. Our nerves were growing by this time. As I approached the officer, he looked up, then took off his hat when he realized it was about to fall off.

"Name, age and occupa-" he paused, clearing his throat he asked again.

"Name and age?" It took me a moment, but I responded.

"Stephen, 16." and was waved towards the trucks. My friends soon joined me in standing behind one of the trucks, next to another soldier.

"Alright, in the truck boys." he ordered, waving us, and about fifteen other 'volunteers' into the back of the truck. The convoy then commenced. Hours of watching fields, trees, and hay bales pass by eventually passed off when we noticed we were entering another town. One of the boys leant out of the back, and looked around to the front.

"Coast!" He exclaimed.

The truck slowed to a stop, and then began moving again. We realized why as the checkpoint passed us by. The truck stopped again, and we were ordered out. Jumping out of the truck, a helmet and rifle a clip of five rifle bullets were pushed into my hands, then I was pushed to the side. I heard Brian.

"Are we supposed to hit them on the head with this or something?" He said sarcastically, looking at the magazine.

With the lack of a weapon, we were guided towards the beach, which was littered with sandbag walls, and barbed wire. We were pushed behind a stack of sandbags, and we crouched behind them. A trio of spitfires swooped overhead.

"Whoa! Look at that!" Brian yelled excitedly, holding onto his helmet to stop it falling off his head as he looked up at them.

"Never mind them, look where they're flying to!" I shouted, pointing to the horizon, dotted with small black shapes.

"What are they?" He asked, straining his vision to try and make them out.

"I don't know, I suppose it-" I was interrupted by a distant rumble.

"Incoming!" someone yelled behind us, and everyone fell to the ground with their hands on their heads, as did we. There was an explosion that left a ringing in my ears as dirt and gravel was thrown over me. I clutched at my ears, rolling onto my back. I was shaken at the shoulders.

"Stephen, get up!" I heard, my blurred vision managing to make out the sky and Brian. As I got up, I heard the deathly screams of the men around me. Another explosion further down the beach caused me to flinch as I watched the display of dirt being tossed into the air, and rained down again like brown hail stones.

Our artillery started to fire, the loud booming noise coming from the barrels, protruding from stacks of sandbags and camouflage netting. The boats were getting closer, by now, almost so close we could make out their silhouette. I was shaken again, and pointed to the newly formed crater.

"Go, grab a rifle!" the soldier yelled, and pushed me, causing me to stumble and almost fall into it. A gun lay at the edge of it. I leaned over to pick it up. Wait, someone was holding it? No, what was left, was a hand gripping onto it, as if it was grasping on for dear life. I felt nauseous, but managed to flick the extremity back into the hole, leaving me with the rifle.

I looked back, but realized I couldn't remember where I had been before. Another explosion, and I was pushed off balance, but remained standing. I searched desperately for the sandbags, for Brian, but all that remained was a crater.

I turned and looked down to the sea. Soldiers were rushing towards me, stepping over the dead bodies of those who were my comrades. I dropped the rifle in fear. A soldier stopped in front of me.

"Federschutz." He said, as he raised his sidearm.


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