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Short Stories Miscellaneous Stories And it Grew Quiet
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And it Grew Quiet |
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| Written by Robert Quintin Penn | |
| Saturday, 05 April 2008 | |
We had only been out of Berlin for a few months. The training we had received was inefficient as we quickly learned. One minute you would be eating breakfast with a fellow soldier, only to find him lying in the mud and blood, all of his limbs blown off by the artillery fire. The sounds of machine gun fire would make you jump whenever they occurred at intervals. When the sound reached your ears, you knew it meant four or five more men had died. We would return the favor as soon as possible.
It was about 0100 on Christmas Eve. I was sitting with my rifle in hand, shivering in the cold. Out there the British were waiting. I knew it, he knew it, all of us knew it. Every night I would expect a bunch of angry yells to come over the hill and shots hit the mud all around me. But it never happened. That cold, early morning didn't change my mind. In the back of my mind I knew that it was only a matter of time. Many yards from the trench, I heard a scream of agony. The man screamed in pain, asking for help. I did not dare exit the trench to investigate. I knew the British were watching me as well as I was watching them. The man next to me nudged me in the back. Slowly I brought my head over the wall and looked. He was on his back, his rifle many feet away from him. His clothes were stained red from all the blood. I could not take in the sight any longer. Down into the trench I went again.
For about an hour it was quiet. Then the scream startled me awake yet again. I already knew what I'd see, but I looked anyway. I could see he was crying. I was trained alongside my fellow Germans. We were taught to be machines of war. We were not to have emotion, especially not fear or any hint of mercy. But the sight of the poor man, as well as his agonizing pleas teared my heart. For a minute I discussed what action we should take. The soldier told me to go ahead. Quietly I looked over the trench, and steadied the rifle on the wall. “It's all I can do...it's all I can do...I'm sorry.” I whispered. “Please...please hel-” I shot him in the head, cutting him off mid sentence. Immediately I sat down and began to cry.
The next day I would meet a friend of the man I had killed. For both sides had taken a moment to think back to their families, the birth of our Savior. No man, whether he was a professional soldier or a former barber, could find it within their heart to kill on Christmas day.
Comments (6) |
 04-05-2008 11:38, very nice story. war is such a hard thing. and going into it anything can happen. you have to do things that seem so abstract to you but you do them anyway. i think you captured that very well. » Reply to this comment...  04-05-2008 11:59, that was a great story. although i have never been a part of any war whatsoever. as the person above me said u captured it really well. » Reply to this comment...  04-05-2008 13:08, Nice work. Certainly from the reality of war, would like o see it expanded to engage the feelings of those in the trenches about themselves, enemies and the war. This was certainly a snipit of such, hngry for more. » Reply to this comment...  04-09-2008 08:59, i was always confused by the stop for christmas thing - let's kill each other tomorrow... well done robert! » Reply to this comment...  04-10-2008 22:42, always interesting to see someone do something from a different point of view, like you have when you chose the german side for your narrator. I wonder, have you read 'all quiet on the western front'? An excellent novel that I highly recommend to you. » Reply to this comment... » See all 2 replie(s) 04-13-2008 13:52, Put down your rifles for a lil xmas cheer. Thought this was a unique piece of writing. The merciful killing was an excellent idea to capture the hatered but still the love for your fellow man. Ok,,xmas is over,,,KILL them bastards. » Reply to this comment... |
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