Remembering
Part I
It didn't suddenly hit me like I would've liked to tell. I only realized it two days later when my platoon and another regiment were moving into a taken internment camp. A young man standing several feet from a smoldering fire began to scream. A herd of people came from behind him. There arms were as skinny as the barrels of our guns, and their bodies looked as though a single blow would be the end. They were ghostly and had eyes that seemed hollow and forgotten. This was my first true view of war.
Awhile later my regiment passed a surrendered group of three. Put to knees and hands on head in a surrendered motion. Standing behind them were another three men, all American. Holding there nine-millimeter pistols out in front, all pointed at the Nazis heads. I saw this image every time I closed my eyes for months to come.
The truck tipped and lurched left. It had caused me to turn for only a split-second. Three gunshots rang out and three dead Germans lay. It was quick. For days after I was shocked, not because of what my fellow soldiers had done, but because I felt nothing. I was numb and I was in war. It was what I had finally become.
Even though I was what I was, I was still hesitant when I asked myself. "What would I have done?" To be honest I probably would have done the same thing. Out here we change and when that happens, things that once seemed horrid become a regular occurrence.
Remembering Part II
After passing the three American soldiers, and the three dead Germans, the truck I was in passed a whole regiment of surrendered Nazis walking. Passing them was a great pleasure to all of the men. It was weird, the things we now came to enjoy.
The men in the truck that day seemed cruel and harsh. They had acted like rough and mistreated children that had won a small battle. The war was raging and it would be a long time before we had another victory, so that day we enjoyed the one we had.