In 1942-1943, war raged in Tunisia between the Germans and the Allies, as the country became the springboard for the Allies' offensive in Sicily and Italy.

One day I recall watching aerial dogfights.  The pilots tried to place their planes behind each other in order to have a better target.  Whenever one of them succeeded they were alternately applauded by the Jews and the French or by the Arabs and the Italians according to separate loyalties.  But I did not enjoy this scene since I knew that these two men in the sky fought for survival as one would probably die leaving his family bereft. 

Suddenly the British pilot positioned himself behind the German and fired at him.  The German plane wrapped in a black cloud headed down to the ground.  It was heartbreaking to watch.  Thank God the German had time to open his parachute, there was hope he would see his family again, although he might be held as a prisoner for a while!  Unfortunately the English pilot not satisfied fired at the parachute.  The German's head fell on his chest and his body thumped to the ground with a leaden sound. 

British soldiers and Jewish and the French refugees ran out to rescue the body of that poor fellow who died far from his motherland and freedom.  In fact he died because his superiors sent him into battle.  A small bible was found in his pocket but that did not help him very much.  Possibly the British pilot had one too.  No doubt they worshipped the same God.  In the afternoon a brief ceremony was held and three salvers were fired in salute by a British platoon to honor the dead pilot.  What a farce!  One has just buried Jesus again.  His parents will be notified by an elegant piece of paper saying "Your son is missing" or "Your son died nobly for his country".  They will never see him again.  But I saw him alive and dead.  He was too young to die, he knew the death before knowing life.