Finished expelling the remnants of his stomach contents, Howard rolled onto his back and tried to get his bearings. He was in a building, his vision slowly cleared and he could see the steeped peaked roof of a very large attic. Sunlight streamed in from the dormer window across from his bed. There were over two dozen beds, most of which were occupied by men wrapped in blood soaked bandages. Two women wearing blue striped dresses and white aprons bent over separate beds, tending the wounds of the occupants. The bed on Howard’s left was empty but on his right lay a dark haired man who watched him with piercing green eyes full of curiosity and fear. He looked to be about the same age and perhaps in another life they could have been schoolmates.
Noticing the folded German uniform at the foot of the bed Howard introduced himself in the man’s native tongue and apologized for getting sick.
“Three bullets? That sounds right. I definitely remember getting hit three times,” as if wanting to confirm, each of his wounds groaned deep into the bones of both legs and his shoulder. Another wave of nausea washed over him, threatening to overwhelm him once more. Without realizing he was doing it, he began humming to soothe his nerves.
“You keep humming that song while you sleep.” Kurt observed. “It remind you of special girl from home?”
“I suppose it does,” Howard smiled. “My little sister. I miss her so. How long have I been here?”
“Two days,” Kurt replied. “When they brought you they say they got you in France the day before. I shocked you have anything left to be sick on.” Again he laughed. Howard liked his laugh, it was a full belly rumble that made his eyes twinkle.
“So we’re in Germany,” Howard mused. “What do they keep chanting below us?”
“The alphabet!” Kurt laughed as realization dawned on Howard’s face. “School’s still in session. When I came, the kinders were playing in the yard. One poked bloody bandage on my foot and lehrerin yell and swat his rump!”
“So we’re in a schoolhouse?” It struck Howard how different the war was for those who lived in Europe than it was back home in Nebraska.
The war took its toll on the little schoolhouse hospital. The health of all the patients began to decline as their rations dwindled to nothing more than turnip broth. Even the nurses and guards grew gaunt and their eyes sunk into dark circles. Finally, the chanting of the children ceased, draping the building in eerie silence.
Then the day came, Howard heard the guards whispering in German which patients they should shoot to save themselves. But one shook his head emphatically, “No, we can’t kill them. It’s wrong. Besides, we’re losing. The Allies are coming. If we keep the Americans alive maybe they’ll take us with them.”
“Would you?” Another soldier looked pleadingly at Howard. “Would you please take us with you when they come to save you? Please!”
When the Americans arrived, Howard pleaded for his former captors. “They were always fair to us. Even when we all started to starve, they did their best to keep us alive. Please, treat them with the same kindness.” He then pointed to Kurt, “And this is my friend. I need him to come with me.”
Howard and an Army Nurse at the hospital in Kansas where he finished recuperating
Howard eventually returned home, then found a truly special girl, and raised four children in New Mexico where he worked as a Chemist. For years, he carried the memory of the war in the limp of his shattered right knee. His weeks of starvation took a permanent toll, a probable catalyst to his severe Diabetes that routinely sent him to the hospital. But he spoke little of the war. He moved forward in life, not focused on the darkness of his past, rather the hope of the future. It led him to the moment his nineteen year old son sat beside him on the back porch.
“Hey Dad, I’m really excited the church is sending me on a mission. But…” he sighed heavily, “I’m worried Dad. How do you feel about me going to Germany to serve the people who held you prisoner?”
“Kurt, my son, never judge a people for what they do in a time of war. Just because they were our enemies once doesn’t mean they always will be. Serve them with love. I will be eternally grateful to the Germans who chose to save me when they just as easily could have snuffed out my life.”
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