Shot By A German

There are three sides of a story. There is what was written, what was read, and what happened

 

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Read carefully this is a reading comprehension test. This is a true story, the facts are there. They will pass throught my mind, as they are typed on the page, they will be shaped by my experiences. A you read them they will be reshaped,  by your perspective.  Funny how things can stay the same, yet change.


These events occurred in 1943. We were at war with Nazi Germany, many of our young men had gone across the ocean to fight in that war.

Looking down on the scene we see three small houses. One is little more than a hut, but it is inhabited because a small wisp of smoke is coming from the chimney. The other two houses, one on either side, are with-in a mile of each other.

Our story begins in the barnyard of the first house. Two figures are moving around. One is busy feeding the chickens in their fenced in yard. The other is herding the two goats to the milking shed. The pig sty is empty now. The farmer fed the pigs all summer. Now they would return the favor and feed his family this winter. The farmer is already inside hunched under the cow coaxing out what milk there is. Not much as the cow is about to calve and is being turned dry. The goat's milk will be all, that will be available then. Together they get almost two gallons.

As they return to the house, upon opening the door, they are met by enticing aromas. The woman of the house has been busy. She and the three daughters have prepared a feast. That is the source of the smells. Bacon and potatoes with gravy, a few eggs and coffee. If you can call it coffee, nothing like before the war. Back then it would have been real. Now it was ground chickory root, a poor substitute, but better than nothing.

We are a band of brothers. We are five in number. We have spent the night here. It is now the time for an adventure. Two will go ahead, I will foiiow. The other two will remain behind.

As I follow the footsteps in the snow, passed the smoke house which hold the hogs as they are being preserved. A little farther on is a makeshift tower. there hangs last year's calf, slaughted and aging in the cold of winter. I follow the path from tree to tree, soon the hut comes into view. We know there is a German inside. We have seen him in the yard with a gun. Looking across the stream, I see the other house, there is another German there. As far as we know he has no weapon.

The tracks in the snow lead to the porch. That means the others are inside. As I approach the door, it swings open. Standing in the door is the German,  he motions me inside.

The small room has a table and four chairs, through a doorway I see an unmade bed. my compatriots are sitting  on two of the chairs. I take a seat on another. The German sits on the other, with the weapon on his lap. From the objects on the table , it is obvious he has been cleaning it. He proceeds to load the rifle. Placing each cartrige in a slot on the side. The last goes into the chamber. He then places his thumb on the hammer to close it.

Then it happens his thumb slips and the gun discharges. It sounds like thunder in the small room. I feel something warm soaking my pants leg. I have been shot.


Have you been paying attention.

In what country did this story take place? How mamy soldiers are mentioned in the story? Was I wounded in combat?

The story took place in the USA. There were no soldiers involved, except for my father, who served in WWI. I was not involved in combat. I was only seven years old. The Germans were my uncle, John DeWald. He married my Aunt and his brother, Jake. He is the one who shot me.

Just shows that what we think was said isn't always, what was said.

Reviews

[Dezaraye]

I love how you tell stories. You've got such a gift. Thank you for sharing it.