[H.F.] Death of a Soldier - A WWII Short Story
I lay here, in pain, soaked in blood. The bodies of my comrades surround me. I am dazed and confused as I go back between my past and present. I am now playing with sticks for swords and fingers as pistols. It's a game called war, and I'm with my friends who live in the same village in the foothills of the Bavarian Alps. If only real war could be like this. So fun, so innocent. The worse thing that could happen to you is to get a cut or bruise. And then mother would kiss me on the cheek, making the pain go away. If only that would work now. And now I'm back, in horrible pain. Now I'm marching in a parade in Munich to the Konigratzer March, my old friends still beside me. My legs might be sore, but I'm still safe. I'm proud of my nation. Now I'm, and my legs feel numb. I can barely move them. Now we're marching around a corner, next to us is a big bonfire, I can feel the heat. I can feel the sweat rolling down my cheek. As we march, Jewish literature is throne into the fire. If only then I knew what would really happen to those poor, innocent people. Now I'm back. It's beginning to snow, the air has gotten colder. A melted snowflake rolls down my cheek. Now I'm in Russia. I missed our victory in Poland. Much nervousness and excitement awaits us. We were told the Slavs were monsters who were desperate to fend us off. And we listened. We were told they were inhuman beasts. And we believed our commanders. Now I'm back. I move my eyes to the right to see a dead Russian soldier. He was little more than a boy like me. How could he be a monster? Now we enter a destroyed city in the East. My final resting place? Stalin-something was it? Now I'm, I hear voices in German. The voices of my comrades, of friends, of the angry commanders with veins in their neck sticking out. Of parents wishing us goodbye. Then, I'm walking, with my fellow soldiers. We're talking so nonchalantly. Then we turn a corner, to see a Russian machine gun tear us apart. Only a mere few minutes ago. I see him and his comrades packing up the weapon to move. Without remorse. Then our ergeant takes out a luger and shoots a Soviet who stayed behid to see if we were really dead. Now death has closed in. It is certain. My body begins to feel cold. I'm...rising? I'm going faster and faster as everything gets brighter and brighter. Now I'm above the city. I can see the smoke rise, hear the explosions and cracks of rifle fire. I go higher and higher, brighter and brighter until I can't see anything. I know where I am, and I know where I am going.
Darkness. Death.
Reply With Quote
