Short story on the experience of a German militiaman and a Chinese conscript during WW2
Quote:
World, war, two
Otto Dekker was hearing news when Helga, carrying a dish of freshly-baked breads, complaining about yet another cut of coffee ration. He kissed his two daughters who were leaving for the Girl's League. Helga was worrying. There were more and more Allied Jabos flew pass the town; but who would bomb this lovely Isselburg? Then he caught the sudden burst of martial music. Men from 16 to 60 must register to the German Home Guard, the Volkssturm. That was 18th October, 1944
--
Li Ssu-mien woke up his five rag-less brothers, and his ailing mother as the blueish dawn leaked into the cracked peasant house. Before his once 11-family, he unloaded a bag of husk-mixed rice he got from miles away - the first in months - and smiled for the joy in their eyes. Despite her illness, his mother toiled to cook, like she always had been for half of century on the farms in the Li Village. Just as the steam irritating their tied stomach, the door was shaken by rapid blows. He was grabbed out by yelling soldiers. You were conscripted into the National Revolutionary Army of China. That was 18th October, 1944
--
Otto was unsatisfied, as was all eligible Isselburg men in the town hall. The trolling speeches of SA men produced nothing but protest. We were to fight without uniforms and weapons, and unprotected by the Hague Conventions? He burst questions against the high-ranking Party officials sat in front of him, for while it was his unquestionable duty to fight, same was his right to fight meaningfully. We were not some Eastern cannon fodders!
--
Ssu-mien was nailed to the sandy road by terror, as was every beaten, ragged farm boys around him. Shouting; cries; men were grabbed, women were pushed; Chiu-chin would not let go of the threshold. His yelling mother was pulling him back with both hands. Ma! Son! Blood splintered to his face as a rifle clubbed on his fists. The bond did not severed, not until another blow, blow, blow, blow, had cracked his twisted fingers from his falling, emptied family. Two grinning soldiers walked pass with her jade Kuan-yin. What a treasure
--
Otto recalled his passionate youth, Watch on the Rhine in 1916. Now, in the heart of his town, they stood as one for the Fatherland again. March, heroic speeches, and in the ensuing solemn silence, they sworn the sacred Oath as one. He felt the bond between his mates, the proud brothers he would share his honor and sacrifice with. His armband stood. Deutscher–Volkssturm Wehrmacht
--
Ssu-mien could not feel his legs. They have been toiling for three days, with little rest, and no food, which the soldiers have ransacked. Men dropped as dead skeletons one by one, while the living skeletons staggering pass, not even glanced. Chiu-chin rushed out of rank suddenly. His hung limbs were swaying. Ma was waiting for me; rice was steaming; I'm home! Angry shouts, clashes exploded. Ssu-mien turned his head for the first time in three days, and witnessed as the blood-stained rifles hammering on what was his best friend for 14 years.
--
Otto was assigned to the Battalion HQ, an elementary school overseeing the Rhine. Though the mountains of paybooks, records, orders, he glanced to the other forested bank. In his youth he dreamt of adventure, but Somme wounded his leg, confined him in offices back home since. What was the world looks like? A classroom poster fell down. History of the Kaiser's East. An Oriental in funny dresses was gazing from China
--
Ssu-mien was told the colorful shops, the dancing lions, and children dressed in elegant cotton garments, but now Guilin was hell. He was lost in a desperate flow of Pekingese, Hakkanese, Cantonese – This he speaks, but only in how it was spoken in the Li Village. Swarms of little beggars were chasing every smart-dressed. 40000 for a shih of rice! 70000 for a melon! Suddenly he was smashed by a drunk American. Chinks and Japs all look the same! Towered above, the gigantic Generalissimo was gazing it all
--
Otto watched the spectacle with unconcealed amazement, as was every new Volkssturmmann. The Wehrmacht trainer had just demonstrated the new MG-42 machine gun, which had just roared a stream of thunders across the field. Who want to use that clumsy Gewehr-1898 rifle I shot every Sunday in the rifle club?
--
Ssu-mien was chilled by his first touch of steel. He never forgot what it did to Chiu-chin, but it was cut short by a blow in abdomen, and a savage scold from his sergeant. He struggled to stand against his starving legs a rusty, crudely tooled "old tube" - the last thirteenth in his platoon - as the platoon head spoke in broken Cantonese: Hanyang rifle, superior than the Jap's "38-lid", based on the German Gewehr-1888...
--
Otto was hiding, like all his comrades in the trench. The sky was dotted by parachutes. Mortars exploded all around them. He mobilized his rusty sense from 1916. Calm down, Johan, all their rounds flew pass us. Tommy 100m ahead! Fire by my order! Ruechriem cocked his machine pistol, as Otto raised and locked his aim.
--
Ssu-mien was screaming, but he couldn't hear. The thousands' cries were drown by roaring shells and machine guns. Dadao on the Devil's head! The platoon head thrust his "box cannon" against the dead sky. They went over the top, their Dadao swords flying, until one by one their limbs and guts went flying. He went down in weak feet. He pulled the trigger – for the first time in his life. The piercing explosion cracked his breaking nerve. Shoot again! How? The platoon head was wandering among fire, eyes-white, grinning. Suddenly an explosion thundered point-blank, and then the world went black.
--
Otto Dekker was eye-wide with joy. After months of detention in the English camp, he was finally released. He returned to Isselburg, and found in complete relief that his home was, among the ruins, intact. Helga! It's me! Otto! I'm home. The stair was pounding, and the house exploded with happiness as Helga and her two matured daughter reunion with their husband and dad, after more than half a year. What were we going to do? He recalled what the Englishmen used to say. You were asking the price of tea in China.
That was 8th May, 1945. The war was over.
--
Li Ssu-mein struggled to see, but he merely felt something warm leaking. He heard sobs nearby; and laughs, foreign, savage. Shells were silenced, gunfires were faltering, but he heard something else. A slice of air, and then something heavy dropped. What happened? Suddenly another slice sent breeze to his side. The sobs ceased. Something rolled to his legs, something round. Then he knew. He jerked in horror as he struggling to stand, but snarling palms thrust him to knee. Someone stepped behind, and his body went icy as a fleeting chill of steel touched his neck. He didn't cry – the tears irritated his wounds. In the blackness, he saw his five sleeping brothers; Chiu-chin looks so naive before the jade goddess. Dinner! His ma called. He heard she screamed, before he ceased to hear.
That was 8th May, 1945. His war was over.
PS.
Kuan-yin: Chinese deity
Box Cannon: Chinese nickname for the Mauser C96 pistol
Dadao: Chinese broad sword
38-lid: Chinese nickname for the Japanese Arisaka Type 38 rifle
The Generalissimo: Chiang kai-shek, authoritarian leader of China during WW2
Otto Dekker is a fictional character took from "Hitler's Home Guard , Volkssturmmann - Western Front, 1944-45", published by Osprey.
29 Dec 2012, 8:00 pm
