October 13, 1918 - The Germans to engage in a general retreat along a 60-mile portion of the Western Front in France
"Sergeant Muller, we want your unit along with the 38th infantry division to hold the lines while the rest of our army retreats", said a soulless voice from the radio. Karl had gotten used to it and he spent most of his free time reminiscing about his family and his childhood, He thought about all that he had once dreamed of. All that was shattered by the war. This announcement however caught his attention
He quickly switched the radio on and called in the Commander of the 38th division,Sergeant Cole to his room and told him everything word to word, "So what do we do now?" asked Cole. "If I felt that level of clarity, I wouldn't have asked you". They had known each other for the past 3 years and had become close friends but recently there had been a distant feeling of alienation. A short discussion led to the calling of a war cabinet
After a long discussion, they decided to follow the orders of the high command against Karl's best rationale. The alienation felt real to him. As the sole German commander in 2 Austrian units, he felt alone and abandoned by the German Empire. He walked slowly knowing that this retreat would kill thousands of men at the very least over just a few kilometres of land. The men who the commanders laughed with were nothing but numbers to them while planning
To hold ground while retreating is almost like suicide. Almost guaranteeing death and inflicted upon oneself for love for the fatherland. "A soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him but because he loves what is behind him"- beautiful quote, it was my quote of the day at some point in the last century.
October 12,1913 was the day when Karl's hatred for the Austrian's boiled over. Why the Germans fought to defend the Austrians was beyond him and it enraged him. The very thought of indirectly killing his own regiment of German Austrians disgusted him.
At the stroke of midnight, the rain intensified as the carcasses got covered in mud. There was absolute darkness in both the German and French camps. Karl and Cole sat in silence in the temporary commander's office. It was a high name for a makeshift tent with a bunk bed. There was a lamp in the corner of his room that Karl rarely used. He preferred the darkness but on nights like this he would sit and talk to Cole for hours with the kerosene burning away, The beds weren't even provided by the Empires , they were made by the soldiers who respected their commander and it was this respect making Karl hesitant. Whenever he sat on that bed, whenever he looked around in his camp, he could see those young men of 19-20 years smiling at him, laughing and cheering each other up before they went off to their trenches and remained isolated for hours under fire.
Karl went out into the open and started screaming orders. The soldiers quickly rallied around him and then
"I will put out this lamp in a minute or so. All those who wish to leave can do so with no repercussions. We will be holding our ground as the rest of the units retreat tomorrow. To those who stay just know that we are almost guaranteed martyrdom", I closed my eyes as my throat started choking
I can't cry. Not here, Not now, Not tomorrow, Not till I am someone's last hope.
The silence in the field was so loud that it could deafen me without me hearing anything. The only thing I had the raindrops crashing against the ground. The earthy smell was peaceful but I had no idea how to enjoy it anymore. I put out the lamp.
I was expecting a few men to leave, maybe 200 out of the 500 men under me, but the next few minutes sounded like a stampede. The ground started to shake but I felt the ground slipping under my feet. When I lit the lamp once again,100 men stood with me. My battalion had abandoned their nation, their fatherland and you want to know the worst thing about betrayal, is that it never comes from an enemy
I looked to Cole for comfort, but my eyes failed to find him. Cole had left after all that we had been through together. I couldn't bring myself to meet the soldiers with me in their eyes. I knew that we were going to die absolutely horrible deaths.
I talked to some of the soldiers and went to sit in my cabin. We couldn't hold our ground but what if we….fought our own regiment?
The morning of October 13 was actually quite calm. The slushy ground and rain mixed with the October mist veiled everything. The opposition camps were barely visible to Karl. He sat up straight and made his bed. His eyes were sunken into his skull and he wore his exhaustion and frustration on his face. His shoulders sagged as he walked out into the field and saw a quarter of the men who he would see normally. His face, however bore no sign of discomfort. After accomplishing the compulsory daily tasks like reporting to the high command and scouting, Karl sat in his room and peeked under his bed
The old rusty chest lay there with pieces chipped off here and there, Karl took out the keys and slowly turned it .It contained all of the memoirs of Karl's life which he could carry with him. But most importantly, there was a diary. It looked like it was a century old with crinkly pages and random ink marks on its cover. He hadn't used a pen ever since he wrote to his family 7 months ago. On realising that none of his letters were ever replied to, he assumed that the were just not being delivered and so he quit
But that day he did, opening his diary he started reading it from page one where he started writing as a teenager. From the embarrassing things he did in school while thinking he was cool to the time when he saved his best friend's life and got married on the same day. He tried to relive everything because good or bad it was all Karl. Slowly a wave of nostalgia washed over him as he felt a slight taste of this mom's homemade Stollen. Those Christmas eves when he sat with his family and laughed while singing Jingle Bells and other Christmas carols were now giving him the warmth and the courage to keep fighting
He was wearing a simple black shirt and while sitting on his bed, he didn't look very different from a rebellious teen. As the cold settled into his bones to send shivers down his spine, his eyes fell upon his coat which was laden with medals of honour. He quickly got dressed completely and put on his helmet. He put the chest away but stashed the diary within his coat's internal pockets. The French assaults on their front usually began around 2 pm in the afternoon but today they struck early.
There were sounds of bullets and bombs going off in the trenches and Karl rushed out quickly almost forgetting his rifle. A bullet whizzed past him grazing his ear. The continuous barrage of bullets wasn't helped by the fact that the British had just invented the world's first tank which was quite literally, a nightmare to deal with. As the battle raged on each soldier remained focused on holding off the incoming hordes of French soldiers. Then, a momentary silence took over as Karl realised the near impossible to deal with nightmare, he had trapped himself in. The silence was immediately broken by a deafening blow to his head causing him to jerk and fall to the side, before he could regain presence of mind, he felt a coarse cloth wrap around his face accompanied by an arm wrapped around his neck choking him and making drawing in a single breath another battle. His mind screamed for clarity but his diminishing strength and injuries made an escape impossible. He felt his consciousness slipping away. He used every ounce of energy to try and wriggle out of the deathly grip but he his fingers, his toes, and then his hands slowly become paralyzed.
6 hours and hundreds of dead men later, the trench felt more activity as compared to the past months. The French were quite naturally occupying and fortifying their new position.
Karl awoke to the French medical staff rushing in and out of the infirmary. A bloody bandage was wound around his ear and there was some slop in the bowl beside him. He tried to get up but the weakness of his body made it impossible. As soon as his awakening was noticed, a call was sent for some soldiers who arrived as is they were waiting for this exact moment. They roughly grabbed Karl who mumbled some German which felt like Greek to the French. The following struggle was rather long considering that the dude would literally be dead without French medical aid. He was quickly handcuffed and paraded outside. It was quite a spectacle to look at. The German military commander who had been the cause of so many French deaths, wearing a French infirmary dress with his body covered in mud and reeking of blood held captive. Yet his head bowed and gaze lowered not out of shame but to shy away from the sun.
Inside the French camp there was an influx of calls and letters containing further orders and information. It was certainly more organised and well connected than Karl's unit. The reasoning was simple. These men were important to the French Government while the German Government couldn't care less about Karl's unit. The realisation hit Karl quite quickly and the sun scorched his bare feet as they scraped against the pebbles and shards of wood embedded into the ground. Soon enough they approached a rusted iron building that seemed to be missing the windows. What an architectural flaw! The building was old and looked like it could crumple at any moment so much so that you wouldn't put leftovers there in the fear that they would definitely get ruined. Two men wearing dark blue coats which had small stars at their cuffs stood in front of the gate. They didn't seem particularly menacing apart from their 5-foot-long rifles with bayonets attached near the mouth. They weren't particularly tall and they didn't have the muscle stacked on top of muscle build. They murmured something in French and rolled their eyes in annoyance when they saw that they had to deal with another prisoner.
Well as it turns out, the long walk and beautiful journey was for nothing. After a long back and forth between the guards and the infantrymen, Karl was paraded back to the French military camp. Through a nearby town as he walked along, he saw beautiful tulips starting to grow next to the corpses of the dead. The vultures tore apart the organs of the dead and their faces were mutilated. They were disfigured to the extent where even their loved ones wouldn't be able to recognise their corpses. Most such young men who were thrown into the human meat grinder that World War 1 were shifted into military owned cemeteries. Cemeteries made to honour the men who had fought to defend the honour of their nations and their people. The sight left Karl completely unfazed. He had practically spent an year living with dead men, rats, flies in the trenches. He started to admire the sky on the beautifully grey dawn and was snapped back to his senses when one of the infantrymen punched him for walking too slow.
As the darkness of the night set in, Karl was escorted to small room with another inmate.
I didn't really like the room but then again you aren't supposed to like prison. .A short guy with hazel eyes and tanned skin was lying on a bunk bed in one of the corners. He turned to me slowly and our eyes locked. In that split second I tried to analyse him and it was almost like he had an air of respect around him. Like the light in the room saluted his presence and bent to his will. He seemed unnatural. He was wearing a unique red and white sweater which had quite the Christmas vibe to it.
"And who might you be" he asked without getting up . The tone in which he spoke confirmed my doubts.
"It's a question I ask myself often but to no avail"
He gave me a slight smile and got up, "I am Sebastian, I think we'll get along"
"We might"
"You better hope we do"
Our conversation was interrupted by loud knock on the door. Oh, did I mention that the room had no natural sources of light and a lamp was all you could rely on? I didn't? That's my bad. There was some Mold growing around the walls and the humidity inside gave the room a crucial attribute that any prison requires, discomfort.
Then I looked over to the furniture. Old, dirty, broken and containing tons of blood stains. A classic. I started wondering how many people might have died in this room but then I realized that I didn't want to know. It was a stupid question and I needed all the hope I could get.
Sebastion walked over to the door cautiously. A metal door with a small window that could only be opened from outside. Then he stopped and the window opened. 2 plates of "food" dropped through. Now I highly suggest not reading the following part if you're eating.
The food consisted of eggs, milk and bread. The egg yolk had the colour and consistency of pus and started leaking out slowly when I tried to pick it up with my wooden spoon. I looked at Sebastian in disbelief as he had already started ploughing through his meal. The spoiled milk and bread created an ungodly mixture that let out the sourest stench ever.
Needless to say, I slept hungry
As morning came, roosters cawed and Sebastian seemed to be the guy who woke up the rooster cuz he was ready to roll. My guy had somehow combed his hair and wrote 17 on the wall.
"What does 17 mean", I asked him
"Oh, it's just the number of days till I'm out of here"
"Your sentence is over already? Damn my hearing hasn't even happened yet, hell I don't even know if I'll get a trial."
"I haven't gotten a trial either, I'm just leaving"
Then he launched into a villainous monologue about his great escape plan and honestly it was very impressive. In about 15 minutes as he concluded his plan, I asked him if that was all. He told me it was but as his big hazel eyes met mine, I knew.
Guilty.
In the few long hours, we had spent together I had noticed a few things about Sebastian. He was a really honest and respectable person so he really couldn't lie. He couldn't lie to the extent where he seemed physically uncomfortable if he was put in a compromising situation where this habit was at stake. Most prominently his eyes would dilute and his pupils would become quite large. He also really didn't believe in hard work, hated the Archduke and was the part of an extremely nationalist party.
"Through corruption, everything is possible. If you can't do something or get something done through corruption, just be more corrupt. Let it seep into the foundation of your very existence. Let it flow through your veins and then only may you forget the suffering of the commons"
Sounds insanely cool doesn't it. Makes you feel like he was quite a revolutionary? Well he also believed in letting people suffer and thought that they didn't deserve to be treated better. He was infact a terrible person
As a Sergeant, whenever we took prisoners of war, we often made them work either in mines or in basic construction activities that were extremely strenuous just to save some money on labour. For the first few days I wondered when we would be takes to the mines or just outside in general. There was a lot I would have been given just to perform forced labour for my enemy.
As our days bled into nightfall and slowly faded together came the day when Sebastian wrote 1 on the wall. The day had come.