The Great War began soon after. I easily bought into the hysteria and joined in the nationalist rhetoric. I looked forward to my own chance to join the military. I wanted to get away from everything and the allure of adventure made me long for my own uniform. When the Russians invaded our town, we sold whatever we had and went to live with our distant relatives in Vienna, never to return. After finishing school, I was finally accepted into the army as a lieutenant, and, after some short training, I was sent to the front.
The one who draws, but can’t be an artist
In the crowded, dark railway carriages, we buried ourselves in our coats and used our bags as barricades against the cold. We were going to a place we didn’t know to kill people we didn’t know. It was a community of dull gazes, stiff movements, and identical outfits. As the journey grew longer, we grew silent, didn’t move without orders and watched as our personalities and individuality disappeared. The days bled together and the scenery remained the same, as though we were moving in an endless circle.
When we arrived, autumn was turning to winter. Gray covered the mud and rain pelted the endless war debris of dead horses and overturned cars. A thick cloud of gunpowder hung in the air and left an acrid taste in our mouths. Everything—including the faces of the people—was rusted and muddy.
I entered a trench that was twice my height and struggled through the mud until I came face to face with the captain. I saluted and informed him I was ready for duty. It didn’t affect him. He remained silent and seemed focused on something far away. To him I was invisible. The man next to him, who seemed to be his aide showed me to a place in the trench and murmured something like, “Stay here.”
I knelt, turned to a pair of dull eyes next to me, and said, “Hi, my name’s Wilhelm.”
“Names have no use here, son,” said the one beside me after a long silence.
“I…well…,” I muttered before keeping quiet.
“Stay alive,” he said, “and don’t get in the way. That’s enough.”
“Nothing else?”
“Kill if you can and if you get injured, try to die as soon as possible,” he added with a grin before once again growing silent.
Exhausted, cold and alone, I tried to sleep right there in the unknown. When a skinny soldier woke me by poking my foot and offered me a bucket of slurry, I took it and wolfed it down, then went back to sleep to escape my surroundings.
Soon I grew used to the whir and crash of the artillery, but I woke up when I heard those sounds accompanied by the crackling of rifles. It was the enemy and they were getting closer. The order was given for a counter-offense, and I readied myself to go over the top. I took my bag off my back and set it on the ground but immediately realized that no one else had done the same.
Trying to keep up with the others, I approached the slippery wooden ladder and waited for the order. My eyes frantically scanned everyone to take it all in. I wanted to tell them I had never been in a war, had never been shot at, and had never shot anyone, but I knew there would be no sympathy. I gulped when I saw the master sergeant slam someone against the back wall of the trench, shove a pistol into his hand, and yell, “If anyone comes back to the trench, shoot him!”
Then the whistle. With shaky knees, I stumbled out of the trench. As I took my first steps, I tried to look around, hoping to see the scene before me, but in the impermeable darkness, I could only see a few meters ahead. All I saw were the backs of my comrades, glints of barbed wires, muddy holes, and flashes from the weapons. I was startled when I heard my own voice in the screams and cries of the night. I ran blindly forward, screaming, and, when I stumbled, I rose again and struggled forward.
Bullets whizzed by. From where, I had no idea. I wanted to fire my gun, but I feared stopping. As I ran with no aim not knowing what to do, bodies fell on all sides of me and I realized I was getting close to the enemy. Everything became a blur and soon I noticed that no one was in front of or behind me. I stopped screaming and slowed down, and, when I came to an artillery pit, I got inside. I suddenly noticed that I didn’t have my rifle anymore. Apart from an occasional gunshot, everything was darkness and silence.
I was frozen, and my teeth chattered. I feared looking around me. I don’t know how long I stayed there, but soon, I heard whistles and screams in what sounded like French. It took me a while to understand that, this time, it was the enemy that was attacking. I crouched in the pit, waiting as I listened to the screams and the gunfire and smelled the chemicals that wafted toward me. I felt like a twisted, shivering worm.
When dawn finally came, all had grown silent. A thick fog had rolled in that hid the horrid ground from the sky. I emerged slowly from the pit and, with hushed movements, I proceeded slowly without knowing where I was going. Along the way, I encountered barbed wire fences, pits filled with muddy water, and newly dug pits that hadn’t yet filled with mud. There were so many corpses. They had become a natural part of the scenery. It was impossible to proceed without touching or stumbling over a body.
Without any sense of direction and not knowing how long I had been walking, I started to think that I was going in circles. I could only see three to four meters ahead of me. I was terrified, but at least I was alive. As I moved forward, semi-blind, I sunk in the mud and quietly stumbled over something.
I was shocked when I encountered a living being in that land of death. First I saw its nose, then its blue eyes. Its ears were erect, and it took me a while to perceive what it was. I had grown up on a farm, and I had a treasury of experience with animals; however, I couldn’t determine whether it was a wolf or a big dog.
I feared the beast might attack me until I saw its tail flicking.
As I approached, I knelt down and caressed its head and murmured reassurance. “What are you doing here, boy? How did you end up here?” (I could have easily asked myself the same questions.)
I called the wolf to come and after it accompanied me for a few steps, it began to pull me, biting my cuff. At first I tried to resist, but since I didn’t know where to go, I let it lead me.
The wolf brought me to a deep pit with a few corpses at the bottom. After sniffing around the edge, the wolf rushed into the pit and started to pull at something among the dead. I slid into the pit and gasped when I saw the layer of yellow gas on the bottom.
Then I saw it. A slightly-moving arm with gloved fingers. The chemicals were now making me cough, and my eyes were watering, so I clumsily reached for my gas mask and went to help the man escape from underneath the corpses.
It took a little time and attention and a lot of effort to take the skinny soldier out from among the dead. Finally seeing the same uniform as mine, I didn’t ask questions.
He was deep down and it took all my strength to drag the other dead bodies off of him. I didn’t know if the man I was saving was a friend or an enemy, but when I saw that he wore the same uniform as mine, it put me more at ease. I was exhausted, and I kept sinking into the mud, but inch by inch and breath by breath, I managed to move the soldier close to the surface.
I crawled out of the pit, and stepping on rifles, pistol grips, bayonets, and barbed wire planks, I struggled to drag the body out. At one point, the nail of my ring finger caught on something in the mud and a searing pain shot through my hand. I screamed and swore and stared at the blood as it drained drop by drop.
Gray. There is no other color that reveals the brightness of red. The drops of blood shone on the gray ground circled by white fog. Some red drops touched the water, thinning out in small swirls. When I pulled myself together, I put on the glove of a dead man and dragged the soldier the rest of the way out of the pit .
The two of us lay on the ground, exhausted and sweaty with wheezy breaths. We stayed there for a long time, looking at the foggy sky. When I gathered my strength, I quietly stood up and led the soldier to fresher air. He began to speak rapidly, saying something incomprehensible.
“What is it?” I asked in surprise. “What do you want?”
At the
sound of my voice, rifles began firing in our direction. The shots came from both sides. Even our side is shooting at us, I thought.
When things calmed down, I made sure to whisper.
“Take it easy, pal. It’s okay. You’ll recover,” I said.
His gaze was blank, and I tried to bring him around by shaking him. I checked his pulse to confirm that he was still alive. His pulse was weak but it was there, so I picked him up and lifted him onto my back.
The wolf was still there circling us and I feared we would get shot if it made noise. Keeping quiet, I kicked the wolf in its chest. “That’s enough!” I growled through clenched teeth. “Just walk away!”
With the wolf leaping from the kick and moving ahead of us, we set off for our uncertain journey through the fog. I walked, periodically falling on the ground, standing up, and spitting mud without being aware of how long nor toward which direction we had been walking.
When the fog thinned and noon arrived, the edge of the forest appeared. I saw that the oak trees had already shed their leaves, leaving behind barren black branches. With my passenger, I passed from a land covered in mud and corpses to a land covered in mud and dead leaves. There was no escaping this season of death.
In the forest, I sapped all my strength moving among the dense trees and shrubs. The wolf was now out of sight as if it had melded into the background. I heard it barking and growling, and I walked towards it as well as I could.
When I decided that we had escaped, I hoisted the soldier off of my back and onto a bed of soft leaves, then headed toward the sound of the wolf. The wolf led me to a narrow lake, where beside it stood an old tree with a large cavity inside it. After a short rest, I used my last bit of strength to drag the soldier to the tree and put him in the warmth of the cavity. Then I curled up next to him and fell asleep.
It was almost dark when I awoke to excruciating screams, wheezes, and kicks. The soldier had regained his consciousness and was grunting and pushing against me.
“Where am I? What is this place? Who are you? I can’t see, damn it! I can’t see! What have you done to me?” his weak and thin voice echoed off the walls of the tree and out into the forest.
“For God’s sake,” I said, getting up and stepping outside, “shut up and calm down! How am I supposed to know why you can’t see?”
I was annoyed that he was reacting in such a way rather than expressing his thanks. I had put forth great effort to save the bastard. Part of me wanted to shoot him.
I waited until his screams became wheezes and his movements subsided, then I headed toward the lake to get a stone in case he decided to make noise again. Once there, I realized how thirsty I was. I drank deeply from the lake, paused and drank again. I began to recover, feeling much calmer now. I splashed my face and let the lake wash away the mud on my hands. Evening was approaching and I now felt peaceful, so I left the stone behind and returned to the soldier with some water.
“Calm down and don’t push your luck,” I warned him. “I’m the only one here. We’re in the woods. I don’t know where the enemy is, and I don’t want to find out. Here’s some water. Give me your hands and be calm. If you pour it out, I’m not bringing you anymore.”
I settled his erratic hands and gave him the shell full of water. He wasted most of it finding his mouth, but still managed a few sips. I took the shell from his hands and went to get more. Give a human being something and you’ll gain his trust; our exchange that afternoon proved that hypothesis.
I held his hand, helped him out of the cavity and to stand up without hitting his head on a branch. Holding him upright, I described the surroundings and helped him down to the lake. While I watched this blind man drink water and wash himself with seemingly inexperienced gestures, I realized the wolf had joined us. It came and sat beside us and calmly waited. I described the wolf to the soldier and led his hand to caress the wolf’s head. That’s when I noticed the rabbit in the wolf’s mouth.
I collected dry wood and shrubs to make a fire and skinned the rabbit. The soldier took a lighter out of his pocket to help start the fire. We were so hungry, we ate the rabbit when it was only half-cooked.
We had survived and avoided dying of hunger and thirst, but the skinny soldier still cried over his blindness and misfortune as he sat next to the smoldering fire.
I could have given a cliché like “Be thankful you’re alive,” but sharing his pain would weaken me too. Instead, I remained silent, surrendered myself to the pitch-black forest and the sounds of night birds and fell asleep.
We woke up with the first light of morning. Despite the frost, we were warm, having snuggled into the warm fur of the wolf by the dead fire.
When the soldier realized I was awake, he began to share what he remembered.
“I don’t know how long ago,” he said, “but we were in a counter attack. We hid in a hole because of the heavy smoke and we suffered a chemical attack. the last thing I saw was the yellow gas coming inside the hole. I mean, I wasn’t blind before. I was an artist before the war; I painted beautiful pictures when I was in Vienna.”
“I come from Vienna, too,” I said. “I joined the army after I finished school there.”
“Actually, I was in Munich when the war started, and I joined the war with the Bavarian army at the first opportunity. These last two years, I have seen so much war and death that I feel like my life in Vienna never happened.”
“It’s my first tour. I only recently joined the army,” I confessed. “This is my second day.”
“I have a second degree iron cross medal, and I was to become a corporal.”
“I’m a lieutenant,” I boasted and immediately cursed my arrogance. “Anyway… I’ll make another fire and check if there is something edible around.”
The previous night’s meal did us good. We were more energetic, and we were living the joy of being in the forest after a long ordeal. I picked from some edible shrubs I remembered from my idyllic youth and the lake provided plenty of water. When I returned with our lunch, the soldier was alert and waiting for me.
“Describe it for me,” he said.
“Describe what for you?”
“The surroundings, everything you see, but without skipping any details, especially the colors, and the shadows!”
I then realized how many things I could see and how few of them I paid attention to.
“There’s a wide and old tree that can only be encircled with two or three men. It has thick, scattered, and layered bark that looks like the skin of an old woman, but its color ranges between dark brown and green. Some of it is green and some more bluish. And there is a lot of moss piled up in the direction of the wind. There is a meter-high cavity in a triangular shape, and it is sticky and black-brown inside.
“There are leaves hiding among the yellow grasses,” I continued. “A few of the leaves are yellow-green, but most of them are yellow-brown. A grove of trees encircles the small space with their dark, thin branches reaching up to the sky, and they get lost in the depth of the shadows of the dark forest beyond. Near where we sit, near our tree, there is a shallow, thin lake the width of a few arm lengths. As the leaves fall in the lake, the color of the water changes from transparent to brown with swirls and other shades. The small pieces of sky I can see are gray and dark-blue with white highlights in the light-blue. It seems as if the light that can’t reach down except in a few patches. The clouds move slowly like shadow pieces in various dark colors.”
“Thank you,” the blind soldier said.
I smiled.
“Thank you for helping me notice,” I said.
In the evening, the wolf rewarded us with another rabbit. From my foraging and imagination, I arranged a feast of stewed rabbit. With my increased experience and courage, the fire was bigger and warmer that night. We knew the storm of death that was coming, but that night we rested full and peaceful.
“If I survive and get my sight back, I will live to the fullest, knowing the value of everything,” the soldier said
, as the dancing shadows of the fire leapt and etched lines of determination on his face.
“Life must have a purpose,” I said, trying to sound philosophical. “You can do it.”
“Yes, yes! All the faintheartedness will vanish. I will be afraid of nothing. I will leave everything behind, and I will use all my ambition.” The blue light in his blind eyes flickered strangely as he talked.
“Will you go back to the front and be a hero?” I asked.
“No. This is not my fight. I’ll be the leader of my own war, one much bigger than this. Everybody will be at my disposal, and I will make history. Now I’m just a young, unsuccessful artist, a soldier no one cares about. But, I will become a legend. Everyone will know my name.”
I laughed quietly to myself as I listened to the grandiose ambitions of this person whose life I saved.
“One must have powerful weapons to win such a war,” I said. “When I was a child…I had a teacher…” I suddenly realized how much it hurt to talk about them, but I was able to continue after removing the part involving my mother.
“His father was one of the first archaeologists and studied civilizations that existed nearly five thousand years ago,” I continued. “Back then, people were much different than us, and they had incredibly powerful weapons that could destroy their enemies instantly. There are other worlds and lives, do you understand? People living there are not only intelligent but also very strong. They can visit the Earth at certain intervals, help the ones they favor to survive and succeed in their effort at killing others. If they want, they can even abolish a race.”
“Aliens?” he asked directly.
“Other worlds. Those little stars you see are actually huge suns, and they have many more planets around them like ours. If they live there and have the technology to reach here from space, then imagine what kind of weapons they must have.”
Save the Last Bullet for God Page 27