Entry: June 20, 1941

June 24, 1941

50km west of Halfaya Pass, Egyptian / Libya border

With Rommel and the Commonwealth forces butting heads in Halfaya Pass, the desert fox had requested additional air support, particularly Stuka dive bombers. We had been moved since the high command saw us doing very little in Syracuse. So, they had us move back to the scorching desert. The ground crew and commanders had already either been shipped out or flown out from Syracuse. The ground crews were first to go, then the entire squadron itself escorting the commander. A Heinkel He-111 bomber had been modified to carry the colonel back to the desert. Naturally, me and Hans were flight lead and element lead respectfully.

"Back to the eternal sea of sand ain't we?" laughed Hans.

I made no reply, I sincerely hated the desert. Anywhere a pilot had to bail out, he'd had to walk literally thousands of miles before reaching a settlement. Either way, we all had our orders. I fired up the Daimler-Benz engine, hearing it's lone wolf's howl once again. I closed the canopy and reflected upon my time there in Syracuse with Salinda. I wondered what was happening to her. Secretly, I began to pray for her safety. However, ground control was getting antsy and yelled out: "LEAD PILOT! WAKE UP AND TAKE OFF NOW!!!" I confirmed the order and hastily gunned the engine up to speed. Once in the air, I lingered a bit for my entire squadron to take off. The planes, still retaining their original tan colors, looked like a blanket of sand on a rather green island.
With the last planes up, the colonel's VIP plane was last to get off. The lumbering He-111 took off into the salt laden air and joined up with us. There was about 24 of us, 4 planes per element. Our flightpath was a indirect route over the Mediterranean, since a direct route would risk the colonel's plane and ourselves to Malta's unceasing curtain of flak and triple-'A'. We flew at a steady pace, keeping our eyes out for any planes.
The 1 hour transit flew by (pun intended) and we had our airbase already prepared for our arrival. The colonel's plane was the first to land. I watched the old bomber taxi to the ramp and it was my turn to land.
It was torture to see again, a barren land stripped of all except our little airbase. In the distance, heavy artillery could be heard sporadically. As I shut down the engine, I stayed in the cockpit and watched the others land their Me-109's. After watching about 4 or so of my group land, the crew chief walked up to me and handed me a letter. The man had no expression on his face as he handed me the parcel and had even less expression as he left. I opened up the letter. It was from Salinda.
"Dearest Johans,
The war is worsening. Just a few days ago, the Americans have removed all their financial assets from both Germany and our ally, Italy. My uncle's funeral was a memorable one. I don't feel like going into details on how it went right now, nor will I ever say a word of it. I've moved back to Emden, where my family's business is still a bit slow. The gardens are busy of people, and freight still flows on the canal. Remember the time when you first asked me out. I remember it quite well. It was about 7 years ago, you were working near the docks of the canal, unloading a barge filled with ores. And here was I, on the other side of the canal, buying some vegetables for the my family's restaurant. I was not paying attention to where I was going and I fell into the canal. Without a moment's hesitation, you jumped in after me, swam the width of the canal, and got me out of the water. You also got the vegetables from the canal as well. After that, we went back into my restaurant and we became acquainted over a plate of wienerschnitzel. Ah, those were the days. I pray that this war will end soon. I miss you already.
-Salinda"
I spent a moment to daydream of us together. The crew chief woke me up, saying that there was something that I needed to come and see...

PART II

"Are you serious?" I exclaimed.
"Yes Johannas, you've been selected for a squadron transfer.."
I stood there, next to my beloved Me-109, my face turning pale at the sight of another letter the cheif was holding:
"TO: Oberlutannt Johannas Wendler
FROM: Regional High Command
Oberlutanant Wendler, you have been transferred to 16 Seenotkommando. This decision is up to you. But do keep in mind that the Reich is in need of fine pilots like you to continue in the defense and expansion of the 3rd Reich.
-General Stefan Fröhlich; Luftwaffe Commander of air operations, Afrika."

I groaned. The 16th Seenotkommando was in Tunisia, not in Lybia. I took the note from the chief and showed it to the colonel.
"Yes, indeed Johanns. But I think you are needed here more than over in Tunisia. Besides, Rommel needs as many enemy planes down on the ground and burning than up in the air killing our panzers! However, this is from the theater commander."
"What would you do, sir?" I muttered.
"Well, seeing that Rommel still needs as much air superiority we can provide over the pass....I would stay."
"I concur, sir." I said swiftly, then I marched out of the tent. Hans was outside the tent, hearing all this. He didn't need to know what was going on, since he's been listening to the colonel. He smiled, saying "Good man, Johanns. We need pilots like you to lead us." We then went our separate ways and turned in for the night.