May 21st, 1941
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When I came to, I was locked in a cell. I was now a POW. "Drat!" I thought to myself. Suddenly, a thud of a door reverberated thoughout the prison. 2 British guards, both armed with rifles and side arms, walked over to my cell. "What is your name?" asked one of the guards in his thick accent. "Johannas Wendler" I replied, in the best english I could muster up. The guard gave a funny look at me. In fluent german, he asked "Who is your flight's commander?" "I am" I quickly replied. I then inspected my broken ankle. "Do you have a medic with you?" I asked. The British laughed heartily, and left me alone in my cell. A few hours later, another guard came with the medic. The medic patched me up quick and left. The guard handed me a loaf of bread and some water. Then they left as well. And with that, I spent a few weeks in the miserable cell before I had gotten a transfer to another prison camp near Alexandra, Egypt...
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Another excellent entry! Keep up the good work. I think all of these added together may become something quite extraordinary.
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