“Quiet! I think someone’s coming!” Daedalus whispered, carefully peeking out from the crates he and the younger pilot were hiding behind. He quickly ducked back down as a German soldier on patrol strolled past their hiding spot, letting out a small sigh of relief when they went unnoticed. “We might have escaped the camp, but we still have to get to an Allied country. If we can just get across the English Channel we’ll be safe.”
“How are we going to do that? It’s not like we can just steal a boat!” Icarus said, not sure what his commanding officer was planning. They had been held in a POW camp for the last year and had just barely been able to escape without getting caught. It seemed an insurmountable obstacle to get back to their homeland, but Daedalus seemed sure they could get back and Icarus trusted that man with his life.
“No, not a boat. Now that France has been captured the Germans guard the ports too closely. But they can’t control the skies.” Daedalus motioned to a nearby hangar. “Once we take off they’ll come after us. We’ll have to be fast. Think you can keep up?”
Icarus nodded, “You know I can. You taught me how to fly after all.”
“There’s a good lad.” Daedalus said, ruffling Icarus’ hair.
Off they went, unseen in the dim light of dawn, moving carefully towards the hangar. They paused only for a moment when the soldiers on patrol got too close, before taking off again. They slipped quietly through the doors, looking around for anybody who might be there, before letting out a sigh a relief. They had made it. Now came the hard part.
“We’ll take the single-seat monoplanes. They’re faster and it’ll be harder for them to catch us if there’s two. Here, help me check them.”
The two pilots quickly went about a general maintenance check of the planes. There would be no point in making an escape if their planes malfunctioned over the channel. When they finished, they stood face to face, neither wanting to say what was on their minds. That they had been extremely lucky up till now. That their luck might run out this time. That they might not make it back.
Daedalus placed a hand on Icarus’ shoulder, trying to reign in all the emotions racing though him. “Icarus, son. You’re a smart lad. This flight is a fight for our lives. Don’t fly too high or the engine can’t handle the altitude, and don’t fly too low, the sea is rough today and will snatch you up before you know it. We can’t take any chances on this. Keep near me and you’ll be safe.”
Icarus held his gaze for what seemed like a lifetime before whispering, “Yes Sir.” And gave a salute, ignoring the small tear that slipped down his face.
They slowly pushed the hangar doors open, careful not to make a sound that would alert the patrols to their presence. Early morning sunlight spilled into the hangar, beckoning them to the skies. To freedom.
They climbed into their separate planes, engines roaring to life. Icarus’ heart soared at the thought of being in the air again, his heart beat quickening as adrenaline rushed through him. As they started onto the runway distant shouts of alarm could be heard, but it was too late. They were off. Daedalus first, Icarus close behind.
Icarus let out a whoop of joy as they lifted off the runway. When they reached the waters of the English Channel, Icarus flew higher, exulting in their escape. He split off from Daedalus, soaring upwards, as if to reach the heavens.
But his celebration in their escape had come too soon. They weren’t in the clear yet. Daedalus came on the radio, his voice choppy, “Icarus, we’ve got company.”
Icarus glanced behind him and swore. There was a fighter plane close on their tail, and a few more a ways off. He grabbed his radio, “I’m going to try to shake him.”
“Don’t do anything risky. If we can just make it a little farther and get into English airspace they’ll fall back.” Daedalus’ spoke over the radio.
Icarus pulled back, ignoring his commander’s orders. He slowed down until he was almost in the fighter plane’s shooting range, before suddenly pulling up, rapidly gaining altitude. The fighter plane followed, firing at him. Icarus could hear some of the shots hitting their mark. He had pulled back a little too much. Now, if he could just get a little bit higher. No other pilot would be dumb enough to follow someone to that altitude, then he’d be able to gain some speed with the lower air resistance and pull ahead, leaving the fighter plane in the dust. He’d just have to pull down before the lower amount of oxygen caused the engine to be unable to ignite the fuel and malfunction. And before he lost consciousness from lack of oxygen.
Pushing his plane to the limit he soared upwards, towards the golden chariot of the sun making its way across the sky. Blackness pushed at the edges of his vision and it was getting harder to breath. Just a little farther.
Finally his pursuer pulled back, giving up the chase. They had done it! Now he just needed to put a bit more space between them before he came back to a safer altitude. Besides, just another minute or two and they’d be in English airspace. Suddenly a warning light flashed in front of him. What? He should have had a few more minutes before the engine started to malfunction from the high altitude! One of the shots from the fighter plane must have breached the engine’s compartment. He quickly tried to bring the plane back to a lower altitude, but the damage had been done. With the engine gone he lost control of the steering and the plane spun out of control. If he didn’t do something fast, he’d be swimming with the fishes.
He wrestled with the controls, trying to start the engine again, when he heard shots pinging on the metal. The fighter plane must have continued following at a lower altitude. He looked to his left and saw the metal of his right wing being stripped from the frame as the damage from the bullets ripped it apart. His left wing wasn’t in much better shape. When he looked out, he could see Daedalus’ plane far in the distance, making its way towards England, unaware of the wings that were falling to pieces behind him.
Icarus reached for the radio to say one last goodbye before he hit the ocean and the raging waves swallowed him up.
Daedalus heard an unintelligible sound come over his radio. He was quick to respond. “Icarus? Icarus, where are you?” He had lost sight of his plane. Looking back he could see that their pursuers had given up the chase, but where was Icarus’ plane? He turned back, scanning the skies until at last, he looked down. There, being churned about by the waves, were some remnants of the wreckage of a plane.
His heart squeezed painfully within his chest as he realized what must have happened. Back in the camp he had promised he would get him home safely. He hadn’t been able to keep that promise.
Icarus had flown too close to the sun.
“…with melting wax and loosened strings
Sunk hapless Icarus on unfaithful wings;
Headlong he rushed through the affrighted air,
With limbs distorted and disheveled hair;
His scattered plumage danced upon the wave,
And sorrowing Nereids decked his watery grave;
O’er his pale corpse their pearly sea-flowers shed,
And strewed with crimson moss his marble bed;
Struck in their coral towers the passing bell,
And wide in ocean tolled his echoing knell.”
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