Ralph was scared. He was really scared. Really, really, really scared. He wanted his Mum. But the men with guns had come to the school and put all the boys in a bus and Mum had been at home, hadn’t she, and he wasn’t going to see her again! He wanted to cry. But he couldn’t. His friends were here, weren’t they? Harry and William. But their parents were gone as well, and they were crying. So he cried. He cried and cried and cried, much more than a big 12 year-old should. He was ashamed. But he kept crying. And eventually, he drifted off to sleep.
When he woke up, it was not of his own accord. The men with guns were jostling all of the boys awake who had been asleep on the bus, poking them and prodding them and even hitting the more catatonic with their hands and weapons. He heard one of the men say that they were in London. He’d always wanted to go to London. So had his Mum. Thinking about mum made him sad, and he started to cry until one of the armed men hit him and gruffly told him to get of the bus. He was pushed out into the cold London air and immediately regretted not bringing his scarf. He heard a mighty roar and looked to the sky to see a plane taking off into the air. Wizard. He liked planes. They could fly above everything, soaring majestically in the sky. He was going to become a fighter pilot when he was older. He would kill the Nazi’s that had killed his dad. He’d never met his Dad. He’d died before he was born. Whenever he brought it up, mum got sad. And thinking about mum made him want to cry. But he didn’t this time.
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