The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

England lost planes every day. Germany lost more. New planes flew into our
airfield from the north of England. New pilots came straight from their
training fields. They went up every day, and not all of them came back.
We had to win this battle, Susan said, or we would lose the war. On the
radio Prime Minister Churchill said, “Never in the field of human conflict was
so much owed by so many to so few.” It meant the pilots were saving us all. It
meant they were the only thing keeping the Germans away.
September came. I quit attracting so much attention in the village. A week ago
British planes had attacked Berlin: The first time we’d taken the war onto
German soil. Fred cackled in delight. “We’ll show ’em now.” A small piece of
a damaged German plane had come down on the edge of one of Thorton’s
wheat fields. Fred gave it to me to take to Jamie.
“How do you know it’s German?” I asked, turning the scrap of metal over
in my hands.
“I saw the bugger,” Fred said. “He was heading back over the channel,
trailing parts of his airplane as he went.”
It was bad training to let Butter run when he was close to home, but that
day I did it. I felt so happy. The sun was warm, I couldn’t see planes or hear
sirens, and Jamie would be so pleased to have the chunk of German plane.
Butter galloped happily, his ears pricked. I’d been practicing my jumping all
summer, and even though Fred hadn’t given me permission yet, I knew we
were ready. Instead of slowing Butter for the pasture gate I turned him toward
the stone wall, and urged him forward.
He flew it. We’d jumped the wall at last.
Across the field I could see Susan standing in the back garden with Jamie
and an adult I didn’t know. I kicked Butter on, flying down the field. “Jamie!”
I yelled. “I brought you a piece of a Messerschmidt!” I pulled Butter up and
patted his neck, laughing. “Did you see us jump?” I asked Susan. “Did you?”
Then I recognized the woman standing beside her.
Mam.