A/N
I had to write this story as as a friend of mine is fighting in Ukraine and as I'm scared of his life, the more I'm realizing I'm scared for his life.
Quoting him:
"We took the city. But it was one hell of a fight"
"It's horrible"
"You cannot understand war until you experience it"
"I've had to bury the bodies of people I recently considered friends"
Our Lord Jesus Christ, help him please.
All my life, I wanted to being a professional soldier, and God didn't let it to happen, but now for what I was preparing all my life is there. I'm pretty sure I'll go fight if my country gets attacked, even if I wasn't a professional soldier. If Russia attacks my country, I will most likely go to fight, partially with nationalism, partially with knowing what hell war is.
I do not know how to feel about this or what to think, I have interested in the military since childhood and if they attack my country, I will have finally chance to fight for my beliefs and for what's right, I'm both excited and scared.
This is first time I'm crying writing author's note because of knowing what will most likely, later or sooner happen, counting my country's political standing in all this.
Counting that being soldier was my dream since childhood, it feels bittersweet now
Yes, me and my friend are both from military families, yes we're about to fight like our deceased relatives did.
Me and my friend are both Christians and I pray to God for helping my family staying alive and safe if I go to fight.
If you were not saved by our Lord Jesus Christ yet, do it as you have time. Lord is forgiving and he forgiven even to an ex atheist and and an ex pagan like me.
Dear Jesus,
I admit that I am a sinner deserving of Hell. I am guilty for breaking your holy commandments. I believe that you died on the cross to pay for my sins, were buried, and bodily resurrected three days later. Please forgive me of my sins and take me to Heaven when I die.I now believe upon You alone, apart from all self-righteous works and religion, as my personal Savior. Thank you. Amen.
God is merciful and let him save you, accept faith in him and you will feel His love.
This is probably my last pre-war story before I'll go to fight too, and all the emotions, especially when Paperman is from to post WW2 are real and the characters are extremely, extremely relatable.
Singing the war song: the sad song of tens of thousands of dead young men whose lives were extinguished in war.
Un aigle noir a plané sur la ville
Il a juré d'être victorieux
De tous côtés, les corbeaux se faufilent
Dans les sillons et dans les chemins creux
Mais tout à coup, le coq gaulois claironne
"Cocorico, debout petits soldats"
Le soleil luit, partout le canon tonne
Jeunes héros, voici le grand combat
Et Verdun, la victorieuse
Pousse un cri que portent là-bas
Les échos des bords de la Meuse
Halte là, on ne passe pas
Yes, it was a first-war song and it was 1948, but the essence was the same: Young men under the banner of nationalism dying in masses on the battlefield.
The song itself was sad in itself, sadder to realize that it was quite possibly the last song the young men in the war 33 years ago heard before they met a brutal death by being shot, stabbed, torn to pieces, or breathing in gas and then throwing up their own lungs.
He was a soldier himself: a veteran of the last world war, which was worse than the first.
The young man could not handle the pressure of his difficult past, he was in a severe mental state, post-traumatic stress disorder took over his body and he was sweating and shaking. With tears in his eyes he pressed the loaded revolver to his head, cocked the hammer, and was about to pull the trigger.
He prayed to God while crying that he was about to end his life: he asked for mercy and forgiveness for his sins.
Memories of his unhappy life ran through his mind: there were more factors than just the trauma of the war that drove him to this act.
"Daddy? Daddy?" A six-year-old boy walked up to his father, who was sitting at his desk, scratching his hair.
Little George was confused, he never seen his father like this.
"What's going on George?" His father turned on him, saying with a tired voice.
George swallowed and changed his mind, when he saw his father like this.
"I was wondering if you'd take me hunting again." He still said though.
His father just laughed in a voice from which was heard he's mentally crushed.
"Sorry, son, I really don't want to see the guns. I hate them."
"But Dad, y-you used to take me in the forrest for-"
At that moment his father rose angrily from his chair and gave his young son a suspicious look. The little boy at that moment was scared of his own father and sweating.
"I've told you about the Great War a million times. No hunting, no guns here. Because some Serb shot the Archduke of Austria-Hungary, I had to go to war. What I saw there as a soldier will haunt me for the rest of my life, it will haunt me and I know I'll never forget it. So no George, I'm done with taking you to hunting."
Fear was clearly visible on the face of the little dark brown-haired boy.
The young man swallowed as he looked around: It was his first landing in war-torn Europe. He didn't want to fight, but he had no choice.
There was snow around and his squad had to wade through the cold French mountains as part of the Allied forces fighting the Wehrmacht, Nazi generals and Adolf Hitler in 1944.
Eighteen-year-old George, dressed in his military uniform, held a rifle in his hand and shuddered: his father was a veteran himself, and the thought of being next terrified him.
But the situation could have been worse if he had been sent as a foot soldier to the Pacific. According to what he heard, prisoners were brutally tortured and executed or forced to work on construction sites under inhumane conditions. Prison camps and concentration camps were synonymous here.
But that was nothing compared to the so-called Unit 731, which allegedly conducted perverse experiments on civilians and prisoners during the Japanese invasion of China, of which there were rumors here and there.
The Nazis, or Dr. Mengele himself, were still merciful in comparison.
The young man shuddered all the more when he remembered what he had heard from other American soldiers about what was happening in the Pacific.
According to what he heard, the atrocities consistented of dismembering and cutting off off genitals, and it was said high ranked Japanese officer were playing golf/football with the cutted off heads of the killed American soldiers.
The Unit 731 was known for it's brutal inhumane experiments, even on babies and pregnant women.
So if he ended as a prisoner held by the Nazis and got send as a prison war worker to the German ammunition factories or to the camps from Gross-Rosen, Dachau, Buchenwald, Mauthausen, Ravensbrück, Bergen-Belsen or Theresiendstadt to Auchwitz-Birkenau he still knew the Nazis would treat him more of a human compared to the Japanese Imperial Army.
One of his fellow fighters lit a cigaret as teens did their best to brought through the snow.
They didn't even knew more about mission. They only knew they had to sabotage SS artilerry.
"Do you have fear from death?" He asked the other young men in the group shortly before they had seen their target.
"I'd never thought of it."
"Do you really think it's a good idea to talk about this now?"
"Shut up, something's going on." Another young man pointed out and all of them swallowed as they saw in the hills hidden a small Nazi military base.
"Is this what commander said we are suppossed to attack?"
"I'm scared, yes." He said, but then another man punched him for being crybaby.
"George, you do not have balls to fight?"
The young man grinned when he heard this.
But the young men were then startled during their attempt of attack realizing their attempt for attack failed. A headshot of one of them was next.
They weren't the only unit ordered to attack here, but the attack on the Wehrmacht supply division that was related to the artillery attack was overestimated.
They all looked scared as they saw pieces of bones from the skull of their comrade, along with his blood, skin and brain matter just flying in the air. Bloodied, deformed with destroyed skull the killed man then laid in the snow in the puddle of blood.
The open combat started.
George didn't remember exactly what was happening in the next few minutes because it was a total chaos. He noticed the moment he realized he killed someone in the combat as everyone did, blood flowing on his hands.
He heard screaming, shouting, and cursing in both English and German along with the sound of spatting blood. It was the time he saw what his father saw. He was terrified.
Probably the most traumatic of the first fight what he had seen was when flammenwerfer was brought to the scene. He heard screams and as long as he was trying to hide himself in the bushes, he was not able to take the stress when he saw the burned corpses of his friends next to him.
That look. Their faces were nothing anymore, but skulls with completely burned meat on them, so the rest of their burned bodies partially revelead their skeletons.
Despite their faces were not visible anymore, he still could read from what was left from their faces that they died scared, screaming in agony.
The young man, only a few months adult, did not know what to do next, nor did he expect that this fight would be fatal for his unit.
The hell continued.
The year written was the end of 1947, this year. He didn't tell her anything about this. He didn't tell her anything about what happened a few months after they met each other first time at the train station waiting for the train to work.
As a war veteran he didn't want to see anyone dying as it triggered his traumatic memories and he was proven to suffer from PTSD. Unfortunately, the disorder kept showing itself and it was clear that there will be consequences.
He didn't fully remember what happened that evening: it was just fragments of memories that began to replace the false memories.
It bothered him a lot, yes it did.
He saw those images from the war, it all came back to him, and he thought he was back on the battlefield and his life was on the line. He was breathing deeply and quickly. And it was the sound of fireworks that reminded him of the sound of artillery.
"Man, what are you doing!?"
The aggression that came over him at that moment was unstoppable. The young man was unstoppable in that moment, not caring that he had attacked an innocent man in the middle of the dark New York streets.
There was screaming, the scene was bloody.
The young accountant, though dressed only in a shirt and tie, had bloody hands.
He poked his victim's eyes in the sockets with his fingers, blood flowed everywhere, and it was only a matter of time before the crushed eyeballs of the still living attacked man burst.
He was only brought back to reality by the sound of an approaching police car and the fact that a terrified witness had been watching him the whole time.
The redhead gave him a startled look, and he realized at that moment what a mess he was in.
He went on the run.
When he was little, he didn't understand what was going on between his parents. As a child, he could barely observe it from his room. He heard his father screaming, the bangs and his mother crying.
It's as if his father, his role model, his parents, his hero was ambushed by something that wasn't even his dad. But still, as a kid, he could still figure out that Daddy was hurting Mommy.
When he tried to sleep and heard what was happening, he cried softly. But the hell that was going on at home was only going to get worse.
It's hard to tell if it was a mistake, his instincts told him to follow his mother.
But instead, like a frightened little boy, he realised he was face to face with a violent, mentally unstable father.
"D-Do not t-touch Geoge!"
He heard his mother's cries after he couldn't stand what he was hearing anymore and went to his mommy to the living room.
The little boy swallowed in fright at that moment when he saw his violent father.
The man wasn't his dad.
The boy did not recognize his father in the man, he was not the same man at all.
His father was an evil-looking tall figure with clenched fists. He was sweating and breathing fast, looking at his young son as if he didn't even recognize him.
George knew he has fear, he felt hot tears filling and flowing from his eyes as he looked at his father. He wiped his tears with his sleeve, but at that moment his own father pushed him to the ground.
"George!" He again heard his mother, but this time as she was weak from the long-time beating she wasn't able to run to him, and he knew at the moment what is about to happen.
The boy felt pain as he hit the ground and tears filled his eyes again.
He began to back up to get as far away from the aggressor as possible, but his father, who was obviously unable to discern what was real and what was not at that moment, approached him.
He tried to get up and run, but it was too late: By now he himself had been beaten.
With more bangs, the cries of an eight-year-old boy echoed through the house within seconds.
He was in the love relationship with Meg a few weeks now and she just started noticing something is wrong with him.
"M-Meg!?"
He stuttered when he felt the touch of her warm soft hands on his back.
"George, are you okay?" She asked him, looking a bit concerned.
"Why are you asking?" He responded back, completely confused.
"It's like you weren't here for a minute, just stood still and stared at the wall."
After she said it, George bit his lip and continued in silence because he knew very well what it means.
"Did I even tell you I fought in the war?" He turned on her, asking.
"No, you didn't even talk about what happened during the war."
Then he felt her put her hand on his shoulder.
"Isn't that the trauma of the fighting I've been through? I know, I should probably get treatment." He said with a sad sounding voice, looking at her.
She stroked and kissed him on the cheek.
"Don't worry, you'll get through this. I'll try to find you a psychotherapist. What do you say, George?"
"I love you." He said, passionate kiss followed.
An old song was playing in his head as tears started filling his eyes.
I am a poor wayfaring stranger
I'm traveling through this world of woe
Yet there is no sickness, toil, nor danger
In that bright land to which I go
This is how he felt the moment he found himself in open combat in one of the larger German cities. Yes, he was traumatized. But now he seemed to feel nothing when his fellow soldiers called out to him.
There were tears in his eyes, he didn't even fight.
He saw the ruined city - debris everywhere. Shots flew one after the other and now and sometimes a civilian appeared on the battlefield.
He wanted to rummage through his hair from the shock, but he couldn't because he was holding a gun.
The nearly 19-year-old youth couldn't handle it and decided to hide.
He threw the rifle to the ground and sat against the red brick wall while he heard the fight.
He started crying. And he cried and cried and cried.
I'm going there to see my savior
To sing his praise forever more
I'm only going over Jordan
I'm only going over home
The small family home was as quiet as it had ever been. 9 year old George by this time returned from school. He was confused, normally his mom would have welcomed him, but she was probably exhausted after all the physical assaults.
He knew because he saw his mother sleeping on the couch. And his father? Nothing.
Yes, he was afraid to enter his father's workroom, but at the same time he was drawn by the curiosity which the awkward silence caused. But a chill ran down his spine as soon as he opened the door.
On his desk were things his father had brought back from the army in the Great War, but the first thing he saw was his legs swinging, and then he realized that this whole body was swinging.
It was his father. And now he's seen his hanging corpse.
"It's only a matter of time before they come for me!" He shouted at her, helding the revolver as they got to argument after she found him trying to kill himself "Meg, I'm not the man you love, nor I am worth your time, I'm a murderer, and I want to end it!"
They looked at each other. They were both breathless, tears were streaming from her eyes.
"I'm just like my father was. He was a war veteran, he suffered trauma, he killed himself."
He put the loaded gun down on the table for a moment, took her hands and looked into her eyes.
"Meg, I love you with all my heart and I do not want to hurt you. I know I don't deserve to be a father of your children, nor be your husband, but I love you and I want you to be safe. I suffer from the same thing my father did, and that's why he was violent. It's why I murdered an innocent person because environment around triggered back the traumatic memories."
He then noticed she wasn't talking, just crying.
"M-Meg!" He tried to soothe, her but despite she didn't say it he saw fear in her eyes.
They both then heard the sound of police cars pulling up and froze.
"I can't handle all of it anymore, and now they're here." George said and he took the loaded gun and tried to aim it at his head, but Meg tried to stop him.
"George no!"
She still had feelings for him, which is why she didn't want him to kill himself, but he wouldn't give up the gun.
The two then got into a dangerous tug-of-war with a loaded gun where accidentally pulling the trigger would have meant the death of the other.
"Find someone better, I say this because I love you, I'm just a war-torn wreck and a murderer doomed to die!"
"No discussion, no suicide, you get help!"
"Curing PTSD will not fix the fact that I murdered someone because of PTSD! Just already go away from me dammit!"
"George, you are love of my life, I'm not going to leave you, so give me that gun."
"I do not deserve to have a family!"
He managed to get the gun back and this time he really didn't wait for anything. A shot rang out and the body of the 22-year-old fell to the ground.
He didn't shoot himself in the head, but in the chest. And now he was dying with his chest bloody on the ground. She was kneeling by his side crying, him in her arms
"Meg, t-trust m-me, i-it's for the b-better..." He murmured looking into her eyes as she held his bleeding body and blood was flowing from his mouth.
"George..." She continued crying
"It's okay, it's okay, as long as nothing didn't happen to you..."
The young man coughed blood and within seconds his gaze turned to the ceiling where he could see the reflection of the lights of the police cars. He died.
"George..." She continued crying helding his body, ignoring the police arrived
She noticed he held something in hand. It was the paper plane which brought them together. But now it was torn, burn and destroyed due to the fired bullet.
A/N
Songs:
1)Verdun, On Ne Passe Pas
2) I'm a poor Wayfiring Stranger
