Intro

The introduction

Introduction - 2005

"How many died? Who knows the number?/ In your wounds one can see the agony/ of the nameless ones, who burned to death here/ in a hellfire made by human hand.”

As I sit here with my family I feel proud of what I have achieved in my lifetime. I have raised a family, been active in my local community and most importantly - been a good husband to my wife who I love. My name is Robert Ryan or Bobby for short, I was born on the 8th of September, 1914 in Brooklyn, New York and was the only child of Nurse and a Mechanic. I was raised mostly by my father after my mother died when I was five years old. My father never was able to come to terms with her passing and became an alcoholic and went to jail after trying to rob the local store when I was 17. 

Now live in Westfield, New Jersey with my wife Elizabeth. We met upon my return from Germany at the end of the Second World War in San Francisco. She was walking in the opposite direction as I going down an inner city street. Accidentally, I bumped into her and as I began to apologize for my clumsiness I could not help find myself attracted to fair skinned, long-haired brunette. She soon walked off and continued on her way until I saw her again later that night. 

Sitting in a local restaurant alone, eating the first steak I’d eaten in over three years. The news talked about the on-going war in the Pacific and the horrific campaign on Okinawa. I occasionally thought that I should reenlist and help continue the fight. After what I endured in Europe over the last three years and what I had gone through, I felt that the war had already taken more from me than it had from most soldiers. I felt like another year   or two more couldn’t hurt, But as I pondered over my options Elizabeth walked in with a group of friends. I took little notice at first but after realizing that it was the same woman that I had encountered this morning I felt curious about her. 

Soon after a friend of Elizabeth’s came over and asked if I would be interested in joining them and since I had nothing better to do I accepted the offer. Her friends only seemed in what the uniform represented but she sat there with no expression on her face and simply staring at me. Questions kept coming about where I had served and things that I had seen. I gave the same standard set of answers that I had given to everyone over the past few months. As the girls went to get drinks at the bar, Elizabeth remained behind. 

My curiosity got the better of me and I asked her why she had said so little. “You’re just like every other soldier we have met since the war in Europe has ended” she replied. Perhaps I should of been offended but as I thought some more I realized that I was no different. My reasons for fighting the war were different but in the end, I was just another man. How she could see straight through me brought me to feel an attraction towards her. While her friends were still at the bar I continued to try and engage her in conversation but she had none of it.

I went up to the bar to grab myself another drink and her friend Ally asked me if I was interested in her. I could not deny that I was attracted to her and she gave me some advice in how I should approach her. When I sat back down at the table things seemed more easy going, she finally gave me her name and that she was originally from Dallas, Texas. She had volunteered as a nurse during the war and came to San Francisco with her friends to help with the returning soldiers. 

Just as the night ended, I invited her out to dinner the following night and well the rest is history. A year later I proposed to her and we were married in a chapel overlooking the ocean in Southern California. I graduated from college and became a writer, while Elizabeth became a teacher at the local community school. We raised two children, Louis after Elizabeth’s father and Evelyn after my grandmother. We moved to New Jersey after my father passed away two years after he was released from prison in 1956. Now we are both retired and are active within our local community as we help organise and host the annual charity event for the town church.

The yearly ball is something we both look forward to every year. Every year when I see Elizabeth walking down the stairs in her gown, she looks as beautiful as she did when I first saw her. She looks exactly as she did to me all those years ago in my eyes. But like wine, she’s only grown more beautiful with age. When we arrive at the ball everyone knows who she is, she walks in the room and people come running up to her. She has been close to all the state senators since we have lived here. Everywhere you go in town, people know who she is. In every store she walks into, she is greeted by name. A friend to everyone and a caring individual who gives everyone a chance.

I feel like I’ve overachieved sometimes. She could of had someone that deserved her more than I do. She’s always wanted to go and travel around Europe but understands my reluctance to return there after what I went through. Her birthday is next week and I’ve purchased two tickets to Germany to surprise her. There is a lot of unfinished business for me there and it’s time I confronted my past. There are things in my past that not even Elizabeth knows.

Sometimes I wonder why I have never told her about these things. I’ve thought about this everyday since 1945. It isn’t my experiences as a member of the 101st Airborne Division that have stayed with me but what occurred during the closing months of the war. When I heard what had happened over the Allied newsreel I became so inconsolable that I drank an entire bottle of scotch while on duty and threatened my CO with my side arm when he tried to figure out what was wrong.

I eventually told my unit a story about why I was so emotional but it was all a lie to get them off my back. Apologizing to my CO was probably the only part in the whole process where I wanted to be sincere. I told my unit that a good friend from back home in Brooklyn was killed in action in the Pacific. They seemed to buy it which was more than enough for me but it couldn’t be anything further from the truth. I’ve never told anyone what really happened, not even my closest family members or friends.

As I sit and eat dinner with my family I feel that I should come clean as to what happened but something always stops me. My grandson has always been interested in my life as a soldier and every time he asks me a question I tell him what he want’s to know. I even helped him with a school history project by letting him conduct an interview about my experience’s in Operation Overlord. I continued to eat while the family knowing that my grandson could not wait to ask me more questions. 

As soon as desert was served, he asked me a question that I felt was almost impossible to answer “Grandpa, what did you do before the war?”. No question in my life made me think as much before I answered. “I worked in a library” I answered. It was partially true. But the memories I relived made me feel uncomfortable and I excused myself from the table. 

I retreated to my private study and grabbed a box that I had kept hidden underneath the book cabinet before heading out onto the balcony. I sat down in my favorite chair and opened the box. Sifting through it’s contents I came across a little black box and a photo. The box contained different pieces of memorabilia from my travels through Europe. Everything from My dog tags to a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray signed by Olivia, the daughter of the chef of the restaurant I worked in while I was in France.

She was my first kiss and girlfriend. Her parents treated me like a son and from time to time I wonder why I left such a great situation and what happened to her. Did she survive the war? Did she have kids? Did she ever achieve her dream of becoming a famous performer? The whole thing felt as if it were a distant memory from another life time and in  more than one way it was. 

I continued to flip through the photo’s and different items I had kept stored in this box from the war. It hadn’t even been opened since I closed it at the end of the war in 1945. When the war ended I felt that my life had reached a crossroad. I felt that I had lost more than what the soldiers that survived the war had lost. It took me many months to recover from what happened. When I met Elizabeth I felt like I had been given a second chance. She helped me find my way out of the dark place I had been in since the end of the war.

It was like wondering through a dark forrest at night without even the light from my old lighter to guide me. While most soldiers celebrated once the German surrender was announced, I took a few bottles of whiskey and sat alone. The men would try find out what was on my mind but I could never find the words or strength to talk about it. My CO, Lt. Powell was a close friend over the course of the war and often tried to help me but even he was never able to get through to me.

After receiving my honorable discharged I headed for Eastern Germany with hope that what I had feared this entire time would not come true. When I arrived in Dresden, the city that was once amongst the most beautiful in the world had now been reduced to a smoking pile of rubble. Bodies lined the streets and the survivors stood staring at me as I represented those responsible for destroying their lives. But I continued to the center of town hoping my worst fears would not become reality. 

I continued to flip through photo’s and came upon a photo of Gabrielle and I standing in front of an apartment building. The building was the place I stayed in prior to the war. This photo represented the last piece of my life prior to the war. Gabrielle was the daughter of a writer who had fled the country when the National Socialists took power. Needing money to pay my rent I took a job in the university library and in doing so I met Gabrielle. She came in one day looking for some books on the history of the city.

Author's Note

Any feedback would be much appreciated!

Reviews

[William Liston]

This is a very good introduction. Often, writers will make a very boring introduction, or in other words, one that simply states details in a way that causes the reader to say "this is going to be terrible." You, however, did a good job because you both introduced essential details to the plot and developed the narrator's character. The only thing I didn't like was the first paragraph. Though it did grab my attention, you could have found a way to tie it into the situation; otherwise, it just seems like an irrelevant quote. But overall, it was still great. I'd give it a 9.6/10.

[TheNightStalker]

Thanks for reading :)

[Joshua Haines]

I really enjoyed the intro. It just got me to read more of your story good work. And keep it up