I liked the pace of this story. I also like historic fiction. As you probably know, I am not a very tactful reviewer although, God knows I try to be. I loved this story, but I have some points that I think will really smooth out some rough spots. My only suggestion is to cut obvious reduncancies and over-descriptions that detract from the story. I have copied your piece and will attempt to indicate what I'm talking about by stricke-outs and underlining in red. Please have patience with me and do not take any of my suggestions as criticising your wonderful work, just as an honest appraisal which I'm sure good writers appreciate. ALMOST ALL OF THE STRIKEOUTS indicate too much verbage, over-description, or redundancy.
The gray military truck rambled down the dirt road. A tire hit a rut, but the vehicle didn’t stop. I sat on a bench in the truck bed, my eyes drifting past the canvas walls. It was twilight, that time of day when the sun and moon were on opposite horizons battling for control.
“Look at the floor!” Was this coming from a friend? At this point, I as a reader, don't know he is a prisoner. Maybe you could add: my Soviet guard shouted?
My eyes cut from the outside woods and greenery, to the Soviet soldier who sat in front of the truck’s gate, back to the floor. was he lying down? or did you mean to say, "his back was to me."? I could take him. He held his rifle loosely and his pistol was holstered. The smug, confident soldier was the only thing between me and the truck’s gate. Freedom was a breath away.
I shivered. The sun sank lower past the horizon. My need to escape was raw, like a jungle cat I flexed for the attack.flexing control. I had to make my attempt at just the right moment, when the moon’s dim light took over from the sun’s orange and red shadows.
It was 1950 – five years after the war ended in Europe. The continent, including Hitler’s capital, Berlin, had been divided by the four winning allies – the British, French, Americans, and Soviets.
Soon after the war ended, the Soviet's true desires came to light. They partitioned their territories off from the rest of theworld, but they couldn’t keep everyone out.the rest of the world from tip-toeing in – especially in Berlin where only a physical,a concrete wall was the only thing keeping the West out and the East in.might be the only thing that would keep those unwanted out.
Oh, the Soviets tried to keep us out. They surrounded the city and wouldn’t let the British, French, and Americans in. They threw up barbed wires, created “no-man” lands, and established heavily fortified checkpoints. That didn’t stop us. The Americans spearheaded an airlift campaign, dropping needed items into those areas of the city occupied by the three remaining allies. It worked. The Soviets had to give us access to the city whether they liked it or not, and they didn’t like it. They put up checkpoints on every block and requested travel papers authorizing one to cross into their section of the city, which had to be signed by their military commandant.
Despite thisall the Soviets attempts, Berlin still thrived. The Germans were a resourceful people. The western part of the city was booming in reconstruction projects.
My eyesI dared to look at my Soviet guard again. He wore a thin expression; his eyes began to droop. I’d have my chance soon.
My name was Alstair Kent and I wasa British officer taken prisoner at Checkpoint Charlie when my travel papers were deemed inappropriate. They were taking me outside the city to Potsdam to rot away in their military jail. We skirted the Wansee woods, still untamed by modern inventions. The Wansee Lake was the in the American sector of the city and on the border of Potsdam. The lake was now to the right of the truck as it weskirted the dirt road alongside the water. If I was going to escape, I had to do it now. The Americans were my last hope.
“Look at the floor, Captain.” The soldier’s halting English was firmer, icier, more demanding.
“Screw you.”
He cocked his head, as if not understanding. I bolted from my seat. He spun his rifle around, as if to head butt me. I dived for his feet, knocking him off balance. We collapsed on the floor of the truck bed, grunting and groaning from our struggle His rifle flew across the floor. Lunging for his holster, I grabbed?withdrew his pistol. He caught?grabbed my wrist. The whites of his eyes pierced the growing blackness of night like a star.
Using the palm of my hand, I shoved the palm of my handit into his face, forcing him off me. Then I stood up and dived over the truck bed’s gate, landing face first into the gravel road. I tumbled over and over, and myribs felt as if they'd been prickedpierced by a knife.
“Halt! Halt!”
I stumbled to my feet, ignoring the pain to my face and chest, willing myself to run, spitting out mouthfuls of dirt. My side hurt, but I limped into a full sprint. The truck screeched to a stop and I heard the Soviets scrambling to get off the truckrattling around.
Foot over foot, I ran as fast as I could, drawing in deep painful breaths. My destination was Wansee Lake and the American checkpoint. Boots scrambled behind me. Loud orders in Russian filled the air. I spied a wooden dock on the shore of the lake. It waslooked to be old and fragile, the wooden beams splinting as if the dock had seen its best days ten years pastago. Across the lake on the opposite shore some 500 meters away, the American checkpoint was ablaze in the moonlight..
I pumped my arms, drawing in deep lungfuls of air. My boots struck against the creaky planksof wood, as I made the decision to swim the length of the lakefor it.
GunshotsBullets whizzed around me. The oldwooden dock groaned under my weight. With one last desperate gulp of air, I dived off the dock, slicingthis brings to mind an olympic diver gracefully entering the water. Maybe "splashing" would be a better choice.into the water. More bullets zappedflew around me, splashing into the lake. Loud Russian curses tore through the dusky night.
The lake caressed me as if I were familiar being in its boundaries. My arms grew tired. The Soviets’ bullets were out of range, but I was determined not to fall prey to the lake’s now challenging vast width.
I had to push harder – push faster. My body moved like a lithe dolphin coursing through the water. A foreign soldier with binoculars stood on the shore looking through binoculars.
“He’s going to make it!”
Arm over fatigued arm, my body moved in synchronized rhythm, drawing and exhaling air, focusing on the not so distant shore. I saw two men wade into the water. Finally exhausted, my limbs stopped. I gasped for breath.
“I’ve got him, Sergeant!”
Two arms grabbed me. Another pair of arms wrapped around my waist. My shaking legs touched the muddy ground. I looked up at the American soldier.
“He’s a British officer!”
The sergeant looked directly at me. “You’ll be okay now, Sir.”
I nodded my head. The men dragged me out of the water. The moon smiled down us like a proud cat. I had escaped.
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. Good story. Gunny
