Two versions of an encounter in WW2

This story is prompted by a tutorial request to write to sequences telling the same story but from different viewpoints.
The seed was an encounter between a British and German soldier in WW2.

The Tommy's Tale

The first time I saw a real kraut was exactly ten seconds before I killed one. He was standing to attention, with his arms behind his back and a blindfold over his eyes. I was creeping, quietly, through an empty village in Northern France, four or five miles east of my proper drop point, when I looked round the corner. There he was, blindfolded, with his grey uniform jacket opened wide, showing off a white vest and the top of his pale Aryan chest. An officer stood five feet away from him, his jodhpurs flapping in the stiff breeze, pointing a pistol at his head. From the officer’s movements and puffing cheeks I guessed that he was shouting, but the wind caught every word and threw it down the road away from me.

Shoot the bastard officer first. The revenant of my drill Sergeant shouted in my ear and my arms raised my rifle without conscious thought. I sighted, took a breath, let it out and squeezed the trigger. A hole appeared below the officer’s right ear and he dropped like a theatre curtain to the ground.

‘Who’s a useless pansy now, Sergeant?’

I ran forward in a crouch from my position, ejecting the spent shell as I went. The other soldier had fallen to his knees. As I approached him, I could hear him talking to himself. Hellfire, hellfire. It seemed an odd thing for a kraut to say.

Moving closer, I saw that he was slim and tall, with an ill-fitting uniform. Below the strip of cloth that wound around his head, his pale cheeks were covered with the soft honey down of youth. He curled further and further forward until he toppled over, cracking his head on the ground. I reached down and put my hand on his shoulder, feeling sorry for him. Touching his ear with the outside of my hand I said,

‘It’s alright. It’s alright.’

He rolled on to his back and shouted at me.

‘Nine. Nine. Bitter she’s meek neek’

‘Shush, shush. Quiet down.’

I pulled his blindfold off and his blue eyes flitted wildly across my face, and then looked at my uniform. He scanned down between my legs and gave a look of calm bewilderment. Behind me, lay the body of the officer.

The youth gestured to me to untie his hands then flinched as I reached down to my belt and pulled out my bayonet.

I cut him free and he stretched his hands to my face then kissed me on both cheeks..

‘Tanker’ he said ‘Tanker’, and then kissed me again.

This time, I dropped my rifle and my bayonet and kissed him back.

The Hitler Youth

I stood to attention as Officer Gerhard prepared to carry out my summary execution. He had placed one of his own handkerchiefs across my eyes. It was a nice touch, I suppose, but perhaps it met his own needs more than mine.

When he chose me for his personal assistant, I had assumed it was because he liked me. I was not wrong. We had been corrupted by the rampant power of our overlords and become decadent in our desires.

He justified himself of course in those tender moments after he had used me, with passages of Greek philosophy and stories of Thebes, but all of that was forgotten when he found me with a French boy in my bed. He raged and railed, calling me a pervert and a traitor then made me sign a confession on the spot before dragging me out into the street to shoot me.

Tears ran down his cheeks as he bound my hands behind my back and covered up my eyes.

‘Goodbye’ he said.

‘F___ you, you hypocrite’ I would have spat if my mouth hadn’t been so dry.

That set him off. I heard him step backwards and then he started shouting again, but the wind came up and the blindfold covered my ears so that his angry words were lost on me.

I did hear the shot, but when I did not feel the bullet, I thought his nerve had gone.

I waited for a moment, but my head swam and my legs trembled so much that I dropped to my knees.

Footsteps clattered along the road in front of me with the clicks and scuffs of a common soldier’s boot.

‘Help, Help’ I said

The footsteps closed right in to me and I expected to feel the sharp pain of a bullet or a bayonet. I curled forwards, making myself as small as I could, until my head cracked off the pavement. A strange voice said something I didn’t understand and a hand touched my shoulder. I rolled away from it, onto my back.

‘Please, Please don’t shoot me.’

The hand ripped away my blindfold and I looked into the face of an angel. Then I saw his khaki uniform and there on the ground behind him, was Officer Gerhard.

I worried at what he would do now, but tried to look friendly and gestured to him to cut my hands free. When his hand touched his bayonet hilt, my heart leapt and I fixed him with a pleading gaze. He cut me free and in my relief I kissed and thanked him. As he kissed me back, I wondered what was in his thoughts, but the sheer animal joy of living overtook me and I surrendered.

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The overall title for this should be Brokeback Arnhem reallly .....

Prose in the form of a play

Prompted by the line
“The dance, in a black leotard, did not much improve her robust figure, only her appetite”

The scene opens in a living/dining room of an ordinary semi-detached suburban home.
Bob is sitting on a sofa watching TV.
Jane enters, carrying a large plastic carrier bag.

Jane: Do you have the table set ?
Bob: Mm ? Oh, hello dear.
Jane: The table ? Oh never mind, they’ve put in chop sticks. I don’t know what you do when I’m out. I think you just waste your time, while I’m improving myself.

Jane sets the carrier bag down on the table and unloads a prodigious quantity of take away food.

Bob: We expecting company?
Jane: I’m starving. All this exercise makes me quite giddy if I don’t eat. Anyway, I need to keep my strength up if I’m going to master all these steps and leaps. Do you think the exercise is helping ?
Bob: Mmm. You do look a bit slimmer.

Jane takes off her jacket and twirls round clumsily.

Jane: Do you really think so? Sometimes I feel like an elephant, but this black leotard makes me feel like a swan.
Bob: Mmm. Yes.

Bob sits at the table

Bob: Better get tucked in before this gets cold, eh.



Notes: The main difference is this almost all show and no tell. Even more so than in a play, character is inferred by the reader rather than stated or acted out and setting is sketchy at best.

Clowning around.

Ha Ha. Very funny my name's Bugs Bunny. Kids love it. I hate it. Shit. Nearly put my makeup on straight. Right then, get it sorted. Get the bastards later. Nail this one. Get the money. Come back. Kick ass. Move back in and hey presto. Clowny is the hero not the putz. She loves me. She loves me not. Sad eyes for Pierot. Not for me. Smiley face on. Sell those burgers. Sell those burgers. Do I look tired? Shit. I smell like I slept under a tree. Cos I did. Boom, boom. Focus, focus. Hair. Where’s my hair. Oh. On my head. Lovely. Green and fluffy like the bush I was born under. Or was that a wandering star? Who cares? The kids need their burgers, Mum and Dad need an hour's peace and I need my rent. Flowers. Up sleeve. Squeezy bulb. Better fill it. Right, got it . All set. No messing about. Well maybe some. It is my job. Wait, something’s missing. Nose! Bugger, that was close. Red or blue, red or blue. You choose. No, you choose. Ok blue. No, idiot ! Red. Ok all set. One hour and then I can go back to her. Get a real job, she said. Don’t come back until you’ve got one. Well, this is real. I’ll take some flowers, real flowers. And the rent. Then she’ll take me back. Failing that, maybe I should run off and join the circus.

Strawberry Hill

Monday.

I went there last night again. It’s fantastic. Realer than real. Better than anything.

Bobby came too. It was his first time. When he saw it he nearly freaked. Crying and talking about Jesus. Like he’s got anything to do with it. Imagine if he’d stuck around. If he’d seen me with the Gog he’d have wigged out totally and then we’d all be in trouble.

I got in at four this morning. None heard me I think. It was beautiful. I could feel the sun shining on me. It was like I was still luminous. Sometimes when it’s so peaceful and the birds are singing it feels like you’re still there even though you’re back in reality.

Thursday

Shit. Lisa keeps looking at me like I’m on drugs. She stared at me over the breakfast table. Lucky I had long sleeves on. If she saw the bruises on my arms she’d tell Mom. Mom hasn’t noticed. She’s seen my grades and they’re all she cares about. She thinks I’m going to Harvard, but she’s in for a surprise when I stay here and take a job at the store.

I can’t leave here. If I leave here I won’t be able to get there and I can’t think about that. About never seeing her again. Miranda. Miranda. Miranda.

I wish I could write poetry. She’d like that. She’d smile if I gave her a poem and I want her to smile. I'm going back tonight. Bobby says he wants to come. Says he'll stay this time and not wig out. Says he's not stopped thinking about it since Monday. I guess it'll be ok.

Friday

Bobby’s gone. He ate something and he didn’t make it back in time. Shit. His Dad’s gonna die. It’s my fault. I knew he wasn’t listening. He didn’t follow the rules. This isn’t for kids. I have to go back and get him.

Maybe I should tell Lisa where I’m going. She’s young enough to understand. Or maybe not. Sometimes she’s more grown up than the rest of us.

I can’t tell the twins. They wouldn’t care. Too busy studying to be lawyers.

If I tell Mom, she’ll think she can fix it. She can’t. It’s not like she can buy Bobby’s Dad a new son. I have to go and get him. If I can’t bring him back, maybe I should stay there too. Miranda doesn’t want that though. Says she’ll never speak to me again if I don’t follow the rules. Maybe that’s because she wants Bobby instead of me. He’s with her and I’m not. It’s not fair. I’m the one who sorted out the Gog and that’s what she said she wanted.

Eyewitness. Bobby’s Dad

Simon came to my house on Friday. He seemed very upset. He said he and Bobby had gone somewhere together the other night and that Bobby had gotten stuck there. I asked him what he meant by that and he got very agitated. Said it was his fault. There was a girl involved. Miranda he said her name was. My Bobby’s never been in trouble before. We raised him a good Christian even if he is a bit slow sometimes. I always thought that Simon came from a good family but I guess kids of all kinds get caught up in drugs these days.

I asked him about that but he said no and got even more upset. Said I wouldn’t believe him anyway. I said I believed in a lot of things other folks don’t, like the blood of Christ and the Resurrection so he could tell me anything he wanted and get a fair hearing.

He said that was very kind and he calmed down a little. He said he was going to get Bobby back and if he couldn’t, well, if he couldn’t, I was to tell his family he’d tried real hard but there was a bigger reality out there than the one they knew about and he had to help his friend.

I trusted him I guess. He seemed sincere. A little shook up maybe, but a good kid at heart if I’m any judge.

He said not to follow him but I need to know where my Bobby is. He walked up towards Strawberry Hill. Bobby always liked the old stones up there so it didn’t surprise me.

Halfway up I guess I must’ve blinked because he disappeared right in front of me.

I thought the rapture might have come, but I heard a voice that didn’t make me think of heaven. Soft and beckoning maybe but more like a harlot than a holy virgin. I guess they’ll turn up when they’re finished with her or she’s finished with them. Maybe they’ll come back as men.