Poppy of Patches Field

“My name is James Lauraine Jr., 1st Lieutenant and pilot in the 837th Bombardment Squadron, 487th Bombardment Group, 8th United States Army Airforce, stationed at Lavenham, Suffolk, England. To my adorable and loving wife, my parents and my family and to my friends I am just plain, Jack. As for my crew I am their Lieutenant; well, that’s what they call me to my face anyways; but what I’m called behind my back, I never did hear. I hope it is what I deserve for I have done all that was humanely possible to keep them alive as best I could, Jerry permitting of course. I’m writing this before what will be the 4th mission of my second tour and the 34th that I have flown over the Nazi occupied territory of Europe. It will, I know be my last."

"To all who have known me, ask them not to grieve for me, for I’m not worthy of their tears. Tell them I have been truly blessed; for I have loved and been loved in return, I’ve laughed with my comrades when they were alive and cried after they were dead. I’ve lived a full and eventful life, despite my youth. And I thank Almighty God for the wonderful life I’ve had. But tomorrow I’ll meet my maker and atone for the great and many sins I’ve committed these past centuries. I’ll feel the flames of redemption around me. All I hope is that this will letter will reach the one who’ll inherit the soul that once resided in this body of mine. I wish to tell them that any evil that once resided in my heart is no more; and that their life will be blameless and good. But this will not stop the torment they feel for the past incarnations of the soul we share. When they touch and read this letter, they’ll know everything of me and who I was, as though they were me. I will finish there and go get some sleep, before tomorrow - the last day of my life as Jack Rayne…when I die in Patches Field, where a single poppy will remember my end. I leave this letter to you ‘Jitters’ Brodski, my dearest and closest friend. Keep it safe. Ruby will know what to do with it, when the time comes.”


"As I sat in the controls of this unfamiliar plane, I knew then fate that had intervened. My dream had told me it would. This was exactly how my last day on this Earth as Jack Rayne would be. For this was not my plane. It was another’s; me and my crew shouldn’t have been flying this mission. The Fort’s pilot was sick and we’d being put on the roster instead. We’d been given the bum’s rush. Today we would fly to Merseburg again for the second time this month; to the most feared target of any in all Nazi Germany. They say you make your own luck in this world; what a crock of shit. NO! It’s mapped out for you; today being a case in point; try telling that to an Me109 or a flak shell. Whoever wrote or said that, well he was just a lucky bastard who made it good and though he’d done it himself!"

"As I sat in the controls of this unfamiliar plane, I knew then fate that had intervened. My dream had told me it would. This was exactly how my last day on this Earth as Jack Rayne would be. For this was not my plane. It was another’s; me and my crew shouldn’t have been flying this mission. The Fort’s pilot was sick and we’d being put on the roster instead. We’d been given the bum’s rush. Today we would fly to Merseburg again for the second time this month; to the most feared target of any in all Nazi Germany. They say you make your own luck in this world; what a crock of shit. NO! It’s mapped out for you; today being a case in point; try telling that to an Me109 or a flak shell. Whoever wrote or said that, well he was just a lucky bastard who made it good and though he’d done it himself!"


"I knew even before the briefing where we’re headed; the breakfast told me; every time we’d go to Merseburg, it was always special; the best of everything; fresh eggs, great coffee, even a shot of JD’s if you wanted it! I’m sure them cooks planned these missions, not the brass; what the heck did they know, sending us up in planes that should be in the breakers lot. Take this plane; Glorious Patches, it had more holes in it than a sieve; not just little ones but ones the size of a truck door; holes from machine gun bullets, flak shells, bits of our bombers, their fighters that’d blown up. You name it had it chucked at it and it was still in the air. Sure, the mechanics had done a great job patching it up with any bit of metal they could find; shame they’d used different coloured paint. It looked more like one of my grandma’s patchwork blankets than a B-17!"

"I knew even before the briefing where we’re headed; the breakfast told me; every time we’d go to Merseburg, it was always special; the best of everything; fresh eggs, great coffee, even a shot of JD’s if you wanted it! I’m sure them cooks planned these missions, not the brass; what the heck did they know, sending us up in planes that should be in the breakers lot. Take this plane; Glorious Patches, it had more holes in it than a sieve; not just little ones but ones the size of a truck door; holes from machine gun bullets, flak shells, bits of our bombers, their fighters that’d blown up. You name it had it chucked at it and it was still in the air. Sure, the mechanics had done a great job patching it up with any bit of metal they could find; shame they’d used different coloured paint. It looked more like one of my grandma’s patchwork blankets than a B-17!"