Post by mikevictor on Nov 15, 2009 19:20:49 GMT 8
The youth fingered the trigger of his rifle. He felt tense behind the stone wall which served as his squad’s cover. He had awoken to the rumbling of tanks and in a moment got up, scrambling to the position he was now in.
It was his first time in battle. The sounds he heard and the things he saw were new to him. Even the trees and the houses seemed different.
Along the road astride the wall, he could see a tank and some infantry advancing. The sergeant gave the order to train their weapons on the enemy targets, but withheld the order to fire.
The enemy column was advancing slowly. At times it would pause, and the enemy soldiers would scan their front. Thankfully, the youth’s squad could not be seen and no fire greeted them.
The column was now quite close. The youth could now see their faces, sitting below their round helmets.
“Amis...,” the man on his left whispered. So, they were the Americans whom he heard so much about back home. They were the psychopaths and murderers the officials were talking about.
His insides were filled with different feelings. His blood boiled at the sight of those who were ready to kill his fellow Germans. This was the day he was waiting for, the reason why he enlisted. And yet, he still felt a pit in his stomach, as if his insides were pleading for him to stop with this madness.
The youth suddenly heard the order to fire. A rocket flew from their position and hit the tank, which caught fire. A hatch flew open, and as a man was rushing out, the tank’s ammunition exploded, launching him in the air. His body landed with a sickening thud, except for his legs, which had remained inside the tank when it burst into flame.
From then the world around the youth was filled with gunfire and explosions. He crammed clip after clip into his rifle and fired blindly into the group of Americans. His pulse was racing and his sight was dimming. But still, he kept on firing.
The firefight soon ended. The remaining Americans had fled, leaving their wounded and dead behind. A medic rushed forward to tend the wounded, and the rest of the squad approached too, keen on getting souvenirs.
The youth had no stomach for treasures. Yet, he felt gravitated to the spot where the Americans fell.
He looked at the American who had lost his legs. He did not look like a psychopath or a murderer. He looked a little older than the youth. He looked like the older brother he had, who was serving with the SS in Russia.
He knelt beside the dying American. Without thinking, he grabbed his hand and held it as the man looked at him with eyes that penetrated his soul.
For some strange reason that he could not comprehend, the youth began to recite a prayer. “Unser Vater in dem Himmel, dein Name werde geheiligt,” he began.
To his surprise, the American slowly and painfully recited the prayer with him. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” he said.
The man died before they finished. The youth conclude the prayer with a solemn and quiet “Amen,” and stood up to rejoin his squad. They were comparing souvenirs.
A man held out his hand and showed off a watch. Another produced a pack of cigarettes. Still another one showed a large knife.
“What about you, Rolf? What have you got?” they queried the youth.
He slowly opened his hand, caked with blood.
The End
It was his first time in battle. The sounds he heard and the things he saw were new to him. Even the trees and the houses seemed different.
Along the road astride the wall, he could see a tank and some infantry advancing. The sergeant gave the order to train their weapons on the enemy targets, but withheld the order to fire.
The enemy column was advancing slowly. At times it would pause, and the enemy soldiers would scan their front. Thankfully, the youth’s squad could not be seen and no fire greeted them.
The column was now quite close. The youth could now see their faces, sitting below their round helmets.
“Amis...,” the man on his left whispered. So, they were the Americans whom he heard so much about back home. They were the psychopaths and murderers the officials were talking about.
His insides were filled with different feelings. His blood boiled at the sight of those who were ready to kill his fellow Germans. This was the day he was waiting for, the reason why he enlisted. And yet, he still felt a pit in his stomach, as if his insides were pleading for him to stop with this madness.
The youth suddenly heard the order to fire. A rocket flew from their position and hit the tank, which caught fire. A hatch flew open, and as a man was rushing out, the tank’s ammunition exploded, launching him in the air. His body landed with a sickening thud, except for his legs, which had remained inside the tank when it burst into flame.
From then the world around the youth was filled with gunfire and explosions. He crammed clip after clip into his rifle and fired blindly into the group of Americans. His pulse was racing and his sight was dimming. But still, he kept on firing.
The firefight soon ended. The remaining Americans had fled, leaving their wounded and dead behind. A medic rushed forward to tend the wounded, and the rest of the squad approached too, keen on getting souvenirs.
The youth had no stomach for treasures. Yet, he felt gravitated to the spot where the Americans fell.
He looked at the American who had lost his legs. He did not look like a psychopath or a murderer. He looked a little older than the youth. He looked like the older brother he had, who was serving with the SS in Russia.
He knelt beside the dying American. Without thinking, he grabbed his hand and held it as the man looked at him with eyes that penetrated his soul.
For some strange reason that he could not comprehend, the youth began to recite a prayer. “Unser Vater in dem Himmel, dein Name werde geheiligt,” he began.
To his surprise, the American slowly and painfully recited the prayer with him. “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” he said.
The man died before they finished. The youth conclude the prayer with a solemn and quiet “Amen,” and stood up to rejoin his squad. They were comparing souvenirs.
A man held out his hand and showed off a watch. Another produced a pack of cigarettes. Still another one showed a large knife.
“What about you, Rolf? What have you got?” they queried the youth.
He slowly opened his hand, caked with blood.
The End