My War Story

Memory is a funny thing. You know the smartest people in the world have debated over how it works, but none of them can seem to figure it out. Now I‘ll be frank with you, aside from knowing some trivial facts, I‘m not that smart...but I can tell you something about memory. There are some things, like what you had for breakfast this morning, or what movie you went to see last weekend, that can be easily forgotten. Then there are other things, which have a certain special quality to them, some inexplicable element that they are endowed with that keeps them fresh in your head, up until the moment of your death. Things like your communion, your first time riding a bike, or the first time you’ve killed someone.
So here’s what I remember: I was with the third platoon at the time, we had a small base camp set up right outside of Dieppe. It was getting late into the evening and I was on perimeter watch at the north end of the camp with two other members from my squad, Jacob Brown and Connor Nagel.
I remember it being a quiet night, with only a small breeze coming through every so often. Just as I was about to doze off, Jacob crept over to me and nudged my shoulder.
“You hear that?” he whispered.
“Hear what?” was my groggy reply.
“Listen, over there in the bushes...I think I heard something move”

Connor overheard us and he crawled over. “What the hell's goin on?”
“Just shut up and listen” Jacob said quickly.
We began to listen, and sure enough we all heard it. It sounded like someone was creeping in the bushes not far from us.
Connor was the first to act. He checked the magazine on his rifle, then ran forward. Jacob and I followed after him, but by the time we caught up he was firing at what looked like a German soldier.
The soldier fired back, naturally, but Connor turned out to be the better shot.
"Hot damn, I got him!" yelled Connor, after the German collapsed to the ground.
Connor was only half-right, he had shot the German in the stomach, but he was still very much alive. He lay about 30 feet ahead of us and as we cautiously approached him, we could see him writhing on the ground.
"Gegrüßet seist du Maria", the German sputtered, while blood trickled out his mouth.
Jacob Brown looked over him with an air of calm intrusiveness. "Well now, to have come out this far by himself he must be a scout", he stated.
"Voll der Gnade, der Herr ist mit dir", continued the scout, who began sobbing quietly.
It was earlier that week when Jacob Brown told me Connor’s story. Connor was the son of a high-ranking general. His father had gotten him into West Point military academy, but he failed out in his third year, when his father became too involved in the war to have his grades manipulated. Because of this, he was drafted as a mere grunt and found our way into our platoon.
"Hey...whatcha mutter’in to yourself there, Adolf?" Connor chided. The German ignored him, and continued murmuring. Connor turned toward me.
"Hey Evans, what’s this krout say’in?"
I had taken a little German in high school, but not enough to know the language fluently. “I think he’s praying”
Connor cocked his head to the side while Jacob seemed intrigued. “Praying? I didn’t know these hardcore Germans liked to pray”, was Connor’s reply, and then he kicked him, hard.
“Something tells me you don’t like to pray much either”, Jacob remarked.
“Hell no, I don’t believe in that crap. Lets just finish this germ off and get back to our posts.” Connor then stuck his rifle to the cowering soldier’s head.
Jacob‘s eyes widened.
“Now wait a minute, I’m not gonna kill a wounded man who’s praying”.
“What do you have against him anyway?”, I added.
Connor shoved the barrel of the rifle into the soldier’s head again.
“It’s why we’re here right, to kill these bastards?” The soldier just kept crying.
Jacob looked at Connor, then to me. He had an uneasy expression on his face.
I think it was at that moment I realized Connor had snapped.
Jacob outstretched his hand toward Connor, “Just put the gun down son, and give it a rest.”
Connor had a wild grin on his face. “A rest?”, he jeered. Then he shot the German in the face. He then twisted himself towards Jacob and raised his rifle, ready to shoot.
Not knowing what else to do, I brought my rifle up to chest height and shot Connor twice, he fell down almost instantly.

* * *
The next morning, when our lieutenant questioned us, all we could do was tell him a big lie. Speaking of Connor’s insanity would only have complicated things.
We told that lie to our fellow platoon members too, and we told that lie to several inquisitive interviewers later on. Everyone believed it, the only people we couldn’t lie to was each other. The special element that memory was endowed with made it impossible to forget, and so unfortunately we had to remember it all, fresh as if it had happened yesterday. The eeriness of that quiet night, the horrific way things played out, the look of fury in Connor’s eyes as he delivered the deathblow to the soldier, it’s a wonder that the memory hasn’t driven us insane.