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N.D. wrote: "The following information is required when requesting a book be added:* Title: American Flyboy
* Author(s) name(s): N.D. Clark
* ISBN (or ASIN): 978-1523323876
* Publisher: Self
* Publication Date..."
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* Title: American Flyboy
* Author(s) name(s): N.D. Clark
* ISBN (or ASIN): 978-1523323876
* Publisher: Self
* Publication Date Year: 2025
* Publication Date Month: 06
* Publication Date Day: 05
* Page count: 253
* Format (such as paperback, hardcover, ebook, audiobook, etc): Paperback
* Description:
Winter, 1943. Shot down over enemy skies, Lieutenant Kenneth Hellman lands in the merciless grip of Stalag Luft III—a prison where brutality and bartered power rule. Beneath cold stares and sharper knives, an unexpected alliance forms with the camp’s enigmatic commandant, Colonel Wilhelm Braun.
In a world torn apart by war, their bond becomes a forbidden flame—a dangerous solace amidst unforgiving shadows. As danger tightens like a noose, Hellman must navigate treacherous lines of loyalty, survival, and desire.
American Flyboy is a taut, unflinching tale of courage and connection when all seems lost—where love is the ultimate act of defiance.
Excerpt: (Please add along with Description)
The reprieve was short-lived. The guards snapped orders at each other, their guttural syllables layered with impatience. One lifted a lantern, illuminating the cattle cars that waited for them. The crude, wooden cages on wheels, mausoleums of the damned, echoed with a mournful dirge. “Get in! Schnell!” A guard jabbed the muzzle of his Mauser toward the nearest car with an urgency that bordered on manic.
“What do they think we are? Livestock?” Shaw muttered, his voice low as they shuffled forward. Hellman didn’t answer, but the sick twist in his gut said he thought the same damn thing.
A guard grabbed his arm, yanking him impatiently as he hesitated on the threshold of the boxcar. “Move! You vant to freeze instead?” The man’s spit glittered in the lantern light, his breath curling in the air like smoke from something burning.
Hellman climbed inside, his boots hitting the splintered wooden floorboards. The smell hit first—a sour stench of sweat, piss, and despair that had long since seeped into the walls. The air felt dense and muggy, a choking contrast against the memory of the icy winds outside. The car began to fill, a crush of bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee. They packed in, making room where there was none until even sitting was impossible. Someone groaned behind him. Another cursed under his breath in clipped words that the squadron leader couldn’t make out. He pressed his back against the wall, trying to find an inch—just one inch—to call his own.
* Language (for non-English books): English
* Link to book page: www.amazon.com/American-Flyboy-N-D-Cl...