Work Text:
[SEPTEMBER 7, 1940, 6:00 AM / LONDON, ENGLAND]
The first light of dawn pierced into the horizon, the pale morning fading in the sky. The children were bleary-eyed as they clutched their small belongings, yawning and squinting against the brightening day. They were oblivious to the alarmed caution written on their teachers’ faces, their hushed voices a murmur of concern that floated above the chatter of excited boys.
“When do you think the Germans will attack?” , one teacher whispered, keeping an eye on the crooked line of primary school students.
“Beats me. All I know is that we need to leave,
urgently
.”
They both shudder at the thought. They all know that the growing aggression of Germany was getting out of hand. The staff exchanged weary looks, tallying each student on their clipboards. They can only look at the growing number of young, vulnerable students lining up by grade. However, there were only a couple of school buses that could fit such a hefty amount of students from a prep school, so they did shove a couple of smaller grades in the big ones.
The staff exchanged weary looks, tallying each student on their clipboards. Each student was given gas masks, which they found really silly when they showed their friends how they looked when they wore it, but maybe it's their way of coping with the situation. After all, it was.. scary. The boys were lined up anxiously, as the last batch of students were finally in place.
There was one man who stepped out of the crowd of grownups, who looked uptight and strange. He wore a strict expression on his face, in which the boys saw and immediately started shushing their friends as they straightened their backs, prepared to listen. The man began to clear his throat and speak.
“Attention, boys!” he began, his voice cutting through the morning air, “I trust you are all aware of how serious our situation is. You are to conduct yourselves with the utmost decorum and respect while you are under my supervision. This is not a time for games or foolishness; we have a serious matter to discuss.”
The stern man took a quick glare at a couple of boys in the middle who were mumbling to each other, and after catching their gazes, they all went silent in fear and respect.
“Now, I expect everyone to remain silent and attentive. You are representatives of your school, and your behaviour reflects on all of us. We are in a challenging time, and it is crucial that you work together. Remember,
this is not a field trip
. Do you understand?”
He then saw that all of the students hesitantly nodded. Despite their initial weariness, they could sense the palpable seriousness of his tone. It scared them. The smaller kids in the back weren’t able to mask their nervousness well either, clutching on the straps of their bags for comfort. The man continued speaking through the megaphone.
“Good. I know you are all used to the comforts of home, but we must adapt to these new circumstances. Together, we will find a way to overcome the challenges ahead, and become like men.” He paused, ”Now, who can tell me the first rule of being on this evacuation?”
The boys looked at each other. The front row weren’t keen on actually answering, or even moving at all. The middle row and the back row, however, were slightly shuffling in nervousness, heads turning. A few brave souls raised their hands, and when given permission to speak, shouted the answers out loud for everyone to hear.
“Stick together!” shouted one boy, eyes bright with determination.
“Don’t wander off!” another chimed in, a flicker of confidence in his voice.
A choir boy in the distance shuffled his feet, raising his hand reluctantly. The man’s gaze fell upon him. “Mhm?”
The boy, meek and quiet, managed to find his voice, albeit shaky, “Stay calm and… uh, look for help?”
“Good. All of these are correct. This is what we should do, and what we need to remember when we are going to the airport. Stick to your groups that you are assigned to, and please do it silently. This is not a playground, nor a place to roughhouse and have a loud mouth. We have a reputation to uphold,
and that means behaving responsibly.
”,his voice grew firmer, “Remember, unity is key. If we are to survive and find our way back, we must rely on one another. Distractions and quarrels will only lead us into trouble.
Understood?
”
A collective unison of “Yes, sir!” can be heard in the crowd despite most students’ gazes darting around nervously, some whispers at the back. This made the man satisfied, yet still retained his stern approach, leading his final line.
“Good. Now, let’s get moving! Line up! And remember—
no pushing!
”
As each group went to their assigned buses, there were at least one or two teachers that came along. The young British boys look from the window as they head to the big airport, leaving their school behind— and so was their comfort and familiarity. They still had to process that they were leaving, or that they were getting on a plane. Few boys stayed silent, watching the bushy scenery, while the others continued whispering to each other, ranging from silly topics to talking about what was happening.
“Do you think we’ll really get to fly?” one boy asked, excitement mingling with fear.
“I hope so,” another replied, “but what if the plane crashes?”
“We’ll be fine!” chimed in a third, trying to sound brave. “We’re all together, remember?”
Even if they were unable to understand what was actually going on, there was one undeniable fact:
They were not gonna come back home.
[SEPTEMBER 7, 1940, 10:30 AM / LONDON, ENGLAND]
The bus came to a shuddering stop at the airport, a sprawling complex that loomed like a giant metal beast against the morning sky. All of the boys were ordered to immediately line up based on their group number as they waited for the other buses to arrive. The boys shuffled out, each one acutely aware of the urgency surrounding them. They had arrived not for a holiday, but to escape the growing storm of war. The gravity of their situation hung over them, mingling with the buzz of excitement in the air. In the distance, they could actually see other schools evacuating too, the tension palpable on their side too.
As they stood there, some boys chatted in hushed voices, the variations of familiarity apparent in each group—some were close friends, while others exchanged shy glances. Across the sky, a plane soared overhead, climbing toward the horizon. The lucky few who spotted it had their eyes sparkle with delight, momentarily forgetting the anxiety and fear that had clung to them throughout the bus ride.
“Look!” One boy pointed at the sky, as the others immediately looked as if it was on instinct.
“Woah! That's it.. That’s an actual plane!”
“Yeah, duh. Thank you, Captain Obvious.”
“Hey! I was just pointing it out! It’s not everyday we get to see a plane up close, let alone
ride
one!” His voice tinged with a mix of excitement and nervousness, he leaned in closer to his friends, their earlier fears forgotten in the moment of wonder.
“Do you think it’ll be big?” another boy asked, his eyes wide with imagination.
“I bet it’s huge! Like, bigger than my house!” , one particular kid with auburn, curly hair gestured, spreading his arms to suggest an enormous object.
“Or it could be tiny, like a toy!” came a giggle from the back, causing a ripple of laughter among the group.
As the laughter faded, a sudden hush fell over them, the weight of their situation creeping back in. The reality of the airport loomed ahead, filled with unknowns and the promise of adventure.
Everyone finally gathered around the expansive parking lot, the boys’ chatter fading as staff members hovered at the front, eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of chaos. The man with the megaphone reappeared, deep in conversation with the vice principal. He paused for a moment, staring into the distance, his shoulders sagging under the pressure of the situation. With a long, resigned sigh, he strode to the front. The boys, sensing his presence, fell silent far more quickly than before.
“Alright, boys,” he began, his voice steady but firm. “You know the drill. Group A will be the first to head to the airport once we receive confirmation about our flights. After that, Group B, then C, and so on. I expect you all to line up properly—no pushing. Let’s make this process as smooth as possible for everyone's safety. Understood?”
He scanned the crowd, ensuring his gaze met each boy’s eyes, searching for any signs of mischief or defiance. The boys, a mix of excitement and apprehension, nodded in unison, the gravity of the situation settling over them like a heavy weight.
As they all march forward, they can all see the various planes as they pass by the huge windows. The boys were all amazed, their eyes shining in excitement and butterflies in their stomachs as they could see the plane slowly roll down the ramp, and fly away to the bright horizon, the sun shining down upon them as it grew higher into the sky. The fluorescent lights and the scent of metal on their noses, as the slow yet growing mutters of students and teachers could be heard in the background. Some boys were shuffling, others had to be constantly shushed down by their peers for being so loud that their voices echoed through the enormous walls.
Group A was called to board first, stepping away from the shiny white tiles and bright lights of the airport into the windy, noisy outskirts. There, they caught their first glimpse of the aircraft that awaited them.
A Douglas DC-3, affectionately known as The Dakota, stood proudly on the tarmac, all with its majestic glory. The plane towered like a soaring eagle, the exterior coated with dark grey that was similar to charcoal. White stripes adorned both sides of its wings and trailed to the tail, which bore a striking symbol of three concentric circles—blue on the outside, white in the middle, and red at the core. Before the boys could start admiring the absolute beast of an aircraft, they were immediately rushed inside of the plane by the teachers, which was met with some disappointment, before their protests were immediately silenced.
As the teachers were tallying the students for a final time and taking attendance, each student was given an assigned seat. It was perfect for approximately 30 boys to fit into, and for two or three more chaperones to accompany them with. There was a slight commotion in the back, but it was pretty hushed, so it didn’t bother everyone. The tension grew thicker than butter, their hands shaking in both nervousness and.. fear.
This wasn’t just an adventure or a holiday. They were leaving.
Evacuating
.
They aren’t gonna come back to their country again. They were evacuating. Despite all the fun and adventure they were excited to see, since, well, this is probably their first time that they’d get to see the outside, it was.. scary. The reality of leaving Britain behind was very much real, and it loomed above them like a shadow in the night. They can only hope that, maybe when they get back, they’ll see their parents again.
A chaperone, standing near the front, cleared his throat and raised his voice:
“Alright, attention everyone! Please fasten your seatbelts.” His tone was clipped but not unkind, like someone trying to mask his own anxiety. “If anyone needs the bathroom, it’s located at the back of the plane. Now listen carefully—there will be no kicking, no screaming, and absolutely no disturbances during the flight.”
The man took a breath, forcing a reassuring smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“In the event of an emergency landing, it is essential that you stay calm. Oxygen masks will deploy automatically. Put yours on first, then assist others if needed.”
His gaze locks into the many smaller faces, ranging from fear, to curious, to slight excitement for adventure. As he glanced over to them, his eyes were lingering a moment longer on the smaller boys.
“We will reach our destination safely. May God save us all.”
[SEPTEMBER 7, 1940, 4:30 PM / OCEAN??]
There was an unsettling chill in the air that hung around in the atmosphere. They have already almost left Britain by now, and are heading.. Somewhere. Unfortunately, the plane had to encounter an oncoming storm, and the pilot had no choice but to actually go inside of the storm for there was no way to get around it. As the lighting cackled in the distance, some of the boys in the front row heard that the chaperones said that they were heading for the Pacific Ocean. One little curious boy slowly leaned closer to the teachers’ seats, straining to catch snippets of their conversation that he could slowly understand what they were chatting about.
“Where are we heading again?” The female teacher, Mrs. Jones looked at the other teacher in apprehension.
“Uhm..” He fidgeted, trying to figure out as well, “Australia. We are heading to Australia, I reckon.” The man, who he figured was actually just Mr. Wright slowly cleared his throat, anxiety barely slipping on his tone as the mask of professionalism cracks.
He whispered to her, “
They’ve started the bombing in London.
”
An unsettling silence befalls them, as they stare at each other with knowing, frightened eyes. Mrs. Jones’ hands were shaking like crazy, while Mr. Wright gulped silently and readjusts his position to try and calm down. Despite their hushed whispers, the boy was stunned, both in concern, but also cluelessness. What is happening?
Before they knew it, something
immediately
went wrong.
The airplane lurched suddenly, a shudder that rattled the boys in their seats. A murmur of confusion spread through the cabin, eyes darting to the front where the pilot strained against the controls, his brow furrowed with concentration.
“What’s happening?” a boy in the middle row whispered, gripping the armrest tightly as he looked to his friend.
“Just turbulence,” someone replied, though the quiver in his voice betrayed his uncertainty as he reassured them.
Suddenly, a loud roar echoed through the sky, drowning out the whir of the Dakota’s engines. The boys’ heads snapped toward the window on instinct, just in time to see a menacing, sleek, silver shape slicing through the stormy, thundering clouds—
a Messerschmitt Bf 109
. Its wings glinted ominously in the sunlight as it rose from below, and the boys’ faces quickly morphed into dread and horror.
“Is that a… plane?” one of the younger boys gasped, his voice barely a whisper.
“Yes, and it’s not friendly!” shouted a chaperone, who had rushed forward, his face pale. “Everyone, stay calm! We need to—”
His words were immediately cut off by a sudden flash of gunfire, bright and crackling like fireworks. The Dakota jolted violently, and the boys screamed, fear choking them inside out.
“Get down!” Mr. Wright shouted, throwing himself over the younger students, shielding them from the chaos unfolding outside. The plane tilted sharply, the pilot fighting to regain control as panic erupted. Everyone ducked down, the other two teachers immediately tried shielding everyone else.
“Keep your heads down!” Mrs. Jones urged, her voice barely audible above the chaos as she kept yelling. “Hold on!”
The pilot fought to regain control, the engines roaring in defiance as they struggled against the onslaught. The boys’ eyes widened in fear as they watched the fighter dart around them, its guns spitting fire and smoke.
“Why are they attacking us?” one boy shouted, tears streaming down his cheeks as he cried desperately.
“It’s not us they want!” Mr. Wright shouted back, his voice strained. “It’s the war! Just stay together!”
As the Dakota struggled to take control of the situation and veered to avoid a second barrage of open fire, the storm worsened, rain pelting down in sheets as the thunder cackled beneath them, matching the pure terror the Bf 109 brought with it. They were caught in the awful crossfire of a war that they were desperately trying to evacuate from, as the German plane shot them down. The Dakota, despite being airborne, was no match for the speed of the German plane, and they could only hold on as the chaos unfolded around them.
As the Dakota shuddered violently, the roar of gunfire reverberated through the cabin. The boys huddled together, hearts racing as the plane twisted and turned, desperately evading the relentless assault. Through the din of terror, one boy near the window risked a glance outside, his curiosity overcoming his fear. His breath caught in his throat. “Look!” he shouted, pointing at the chaos unfolding beyond the glass.
The others turned their heads, eyes widening in horror. Through one of the windows, they could see the wing of the Dakota—a trail of smoke spiralled upward, mingling with the storm clouds above. Then, as if the scene were torn from a nightmare, flames burst forth, licking hungrily at the metal, a vivid orange against the grey skies, slowly but surely eating whatever it touched.
“There’s flames coming out of it!” one boy cried, his voice breaking as collective panic surged through the cabin.
“We are gonna die!” another one sobbed, terrified and pale.
“Everyone, stay calm!” Mr. Wright commanded, though his voice quavered. “We need to—”
But his words were lost as the cabin erupted into chaos. The boys screamed and scrambled, instinctively looking for escape routes, the fear of the flames sending them into a frenzy.
“Get back in your seats!” Mrs. Jones urged, trying to maintain some semblance of control. “We need to brace for impact!”
Everyone decided to grab the oxygen masks that were just hanging down, helping themselves before helping the little ones as they were trying to calm themselves down despite being in danger of not only getting shot down, but also something else.
“Why is this happening?” A smaller boy cried louder, breathing faster and heavier than the rest as his trembling body shook violently.
“It’s the war!” Mr. Wright shouted back, desperation creeping into his tone. “Just hold on tight!”
As the Dakota banked sharply to the left, the boys’ world tilted with it. They clung to their seats, eyes glued to the inferno outside. The fire roared, and the smell of burning metal filled the air, mixing with the rain pelting against the windows.
Suddenly, the pilot’s voice crackled through the intercom, steady yet filled with urgency. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re losing the right engine! Prepare for an emergency landing!”
Everyone, including the teachers, exchanged terrified glances, understanding dawning that they were in grave danger. The chaotic atmosphere shifted into one of a bleak realisation: they were no longer just fleeing a war;
they were now part of it.
The Dakota was slowly, but surely plunged down, unable to hold itself up in the sky any longer. It was heading straight down for the ocean, and as the flames danced ominously, devouring the engine, the Dakota continued to struggle against the storm, the fight for survival intensifying as they plunged deeper into the chaos of the sky.
In a last-ditch effort, the pilot veered toward a nearby island, before he immediately grabbed his parachute and got off of the plane, leaving the sounds of screaming terrified children and adults intensifying until it was abruptly cut off by an ear-deafening screech—
THE END..?