"Franz squinted and aimed through his gun sight. He lowered his finger onto the trigger, ... When the bomber's thin wings spread past the ring of his gun sight, Franz narrowed his eyes on the tail gun position, looking for the blink of his opponent's guns. But nothing happened.
Something's wrong, Franz thought when he saw the tail guns pointing lifelessly to earth. His eyes fixed on the bomber's left stabilizer. He realized it had been shot away...
From a hundred yards away, Franz saw the tail gunner's position and knew why the nearly four foot long guns had never been raised. Shell fragments had obliterated the compartment. The glass was missing from its windows. ... He saw fist sized holes on one side of the tail gunner's position where 20mm shells had entered. On the other side, he saw where they had burst, peeling the bomber's skin outward.
Then Franz spotted him, the tail gunner. With the rudder's frayed fabric silently flapping overhead, Franz saw the gunner's fleece collar red with blood. Inching closer to a plane's length from the bomber, Franz saw the gunner's blood frozen in icicles where it had streamed down the barrels, Franz lifted his finger from the trigger...
Franz had seen planes come back from battle shot to pieces. But he had never seen anything like this. Every foot of the bombers metal had silver holes where the bullets had entered and flaked away the paint...
He saw that the waist gun was missing, blasted from its mount... and that the radio room had been blown apart. ... Then, alongside the bomber, Franz saw something troubling. Exploding shells had stripped away its skin in the waist. Through the plane's exposed ribs he saw its crew, huddled over one another, caring for their wounded. Moving forward, Franz, could see that the bomber's nose was blown away...
... over ancient Sicily, the last of Europe's Knights had taught Franz Stigler a new code. Their code said to fight with fearlessness and restraint, to celebrate victories not death, and to know when it was time to answer a higher call.
Franz gazed at the men in the waist tending one another's wounds. He looked into the ashen face of the ball turret gunner. He thought about what his brother August would have done...
A gear clicked in Franz's soul. He laid a hand over the pocket of his jacket and felt his rosary beads within. This will be no victory for me. Franz decided. I will not have this on my conscience for the rest of my life."
--Page 200
A Higher Call
Of 28,000 German fighter pilots to see WWII combat, 1,200 survived. Franz Stigler was one.
Uno