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The Innocent

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The Innocent GCSE Original Writing Coursework By Annika Kataria 10N1 18th April 2002 Annika Kataria 18th April 2002 The Innocent A foghorn sounds in the distance, the Sun piercing the night's curtain of secrecy as the morning mist rises over the Dachsmag facility. I know I have to move quickly. The rusting stern hatch of the W�lfram through which I emerge creaked, this port is crawling with Jerries. I became a member of the Services only three weeks ago and was hastily briefed on this mission. Then I was sent out, deep into enemy territory as a stowaway on a German cargo ship. This port was already beginning to wake up, deliveries were being made. I pick each step carefully. Making my way out into the yard using the walls for cover, I feel like a shadow darting round looking for the traditional side entrance to the U-boat base - easier said than done. The gun-strap of my Tommy gun begins to cut into my shoulder, I know it'll have to be used sooner or later. ...read more.


The guts of this menacing building echo, with clanging and creaking. Staccato, gunfire-like Nazi exclamations ring through the bleak-looking corridors. I feel constricted as I slide through dimly lit tunnels trying to make sense of my mind's picture of the schematics presented to me so long ago, back home in England. Oh how much I wish to be back home instead of this dank German hell hole. Suppressed pistol at the ready, this is not the time for my mind to stray. Turning another disorientating corner, the all too familiar sound of those black Nazi boots is closing in on me. There must be two of them. Icy wind rushes down the corridor, the hairs on my neck standing up on end. I check behind me, the paces getting ominously louder, echoing down the endless tunnel, and surrounding me. A bitter, bilious pain rises from the groaning pit of my stomach, my trigger finger quivering. The wind howls once more, a surge of blood pounds my brain like the relentless drumming of the bombs. ...read more.


The dial turns and emits whistles and groans through the speakers. Dots and dashes are hastily sent to HQ; the mission is officially aborted and the pack of hunters sit silently in their watery den, waiting. I swivel on the chair, light-headed, no warmth in my skin. Desperate. The door is hit again and again with loud commands to open up, "Die t�r �ffnen! Die t�r �ffnen!" The shouts penetrate the thick wood of the door. I am cornered. I quickly scan the room for an escape and notice a small metal grate at the bottom of the wall behind me, my only wish now is to escape. This must lead to the service shaft where vents run up the shaft with the elevator. With the door beginning to unbolt, I scramble to the grate, shoot off the restraining screws and pull myself along on my belly. Please God, let me make it. There is nothing more I can do. The colossal creak and snap of the door echoes around me in the vent. It's just a matter of wait, until this whole terror unleashes from the innocent. ...read more.

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