The End

Originally written May 31, 2008

It’s very cold, but I hardly notice. My heart is pounding, my mind racing as I pause here in the ditch my brothers and I have dug in the wet earth. Even now, cold, drenched and hungry, with loud shouts and angry silver hornets flying over my head, part of me finds itself free to wonder.

 Here I am. Far from home, my family lost, I have nothing left to lose. But I’ve never been a quitter. What could be better for us with nothing to lose than to fight for those who have something to keep? I remember my friends who have died; friends who left families behind them. Why did they have to die when I still live?

 There is a roar in the sky. I look up to see those great metal beasts flying overhead, raining their fiery thunder down on me and my brethren. Though I can’t see it, I can imagine the four armed spider-demon painted on each of their tails. That, I realize, is why I am left alive – so that I can continue to fight the spider-demon and those who follow it.

 There is a shout. I leap up from my place on the ground and run alongside my comrades. We run, not to flee, but to surge forward. My tired limbs don’t want to move, but I run anyway. This is what I live for now; it is all I have left. My left shoulder is jerked backward as something burns into my chest. But I still run, because I know my brothers are depending on me even as I depend upon them.

 Something tears into my right leg. It collapses beneath me and I fall hard. I must get up again! I have to fight! I try to rise only to find that I haven’t the strength to get up. My eyes close as my lungs begin to gasp for breath.

 I hear a startled cry as someone falls to the ground. I open my eyes; there is a new face here with me on the ground. He is a young boy, like me – barely out of school. His dirty yellow hair shakes a little as he, too, struggles to breathe. He turns his deep blue eyes to my brown ones and says something to me. I don’t understand the German words; but his eyes speak for him. “You’re just like me”, they say, “We’re the same. Today we are brothers.” I try to nod my encouragement to him, with little success.

 As he reaches out his hand to me, I notice the bright red armband he wears, and the sprawling black symbol emblazoned upon it. I reach back, our fingers touch. Sides no longer matter to us.

Many of our brothers will leave the field today to fight one another again someplace else, but we will remain here. We have nothing left to lose, and no reason to fight. Now, we only have to wait.

 I originally wrote this story back in May of last year. It was something like 2 in the morning and I couldn't sleep. I'd had this story repeating itself in my head since about 10:00, so I decided to write it down. It's the last reflections of a dying soldier in World War II. What do you think?

Bunny trail: My dad sent the story to an e-mail buddy of his who is a published author. He replied saying that he liked it and until he read the word "German" he thought it was a sci-fi story. I laughed.