The Promise
Then one day the Germans opened a ferocious artillery barrage in Paul’s sector. The German artillery was relentless as they hugged the forward edge of their trench wall. Shells often dropped right in the trenches, hurtling bodies upward with each impact, or would strike near the trench wall causing it to collapse, leaving soldiers half buried in the dirt. The whole experience was very unnerving as one never knew where the next shell would strike.
Then someone cried, "They’re coming. The Hun is coming!" Machine gunners scrambled to their positions and Paul, like the others, peered over the trench and through the barbed wire. A great wall of soldiers with their olive-coloured trench coats and coal scuttle-shaped helmets were coming toward them, shooting as they held their rifles out front and yelling with adrenalin-charged lungs as they ran toward the Canadian lines. Paul fired again and again watching them fall, but there were too many. Soon they were leaping over the barbed wire and into the trenches. Again the world went mad as men, strangers to one another, began bayoneting each other with murderous ferocity. One German soldier sprang over top of Curtis and he stabbed upward with his bayonet feeling it pierce the flesh as the soldier fell on top of him. Paul shot one who was trying to leap over him as the first wave of the German attack was now moving behind them. Paul was struck with the awful thought, ‘I’m now behind enemy lines. Will they kill me or take me prisoner?’
For a long time he lay with the dead weight of the fallen soldier on top of him and then he heard a moan beside him.
"Curtis?" he cried as he rolled the soldier off the top of him, thinking his buddy may be hurt.
He heard the moan again and realized it was from the soldier that lay over Curtis with Curtis’s bayonet sticking up through his shoulder. He grabbed the soldier and pulled him away from Curtis causing the soldier to cry out in pain as this action allowed Curtis’s bayonet to be withdrawn from his shoulder.
"Why didn’t you shoot that damned Hun?" Curtis gasped as he struggled to regain his feet noticing the enemy soldier beside him was grimacing painfully.
The solider groaned again as he looked at them with appealing eyes. He was bleeding profusely from the shoulder wound.
"I think we are now behind their lines," Paul replied.
"Not for long," Curtis said as they heard the return of the battle. German soldiers were now retreating, leaping over the trenches to get back to their own line. The tommies, however, didn’t follow. The Germans then turned and fought leaving Paul, Curtis and the wounded soldier in no-man’s-land caught in a crossfire that raged over their heads. Paul turned now to the wounded solider as blood was showing through his trench coat. With his helmet long since fallen off, the soldier looked so much like themselves - a young man who had probably, like them, volunteered to serve his country. Paul remembered the time that Bob was ordered to execute a wounded German soldier. He was now determined to save this one.
"Let me help you," Paul said with kindly eyes as he moved to unbutton the soldier’s coat, while Curtis watched warily with rifle in hand as he kicked the soldier’s rifle out of reach.
Offering no resistance, the man said with a look of gratitude, "Danke."
"Do you understand me? I want to tend to your wound," Paul said as he opened the coat.
"Ja," he replied. Then with broken English he continued with a painful voice. "I vas studying English in ze university before I choined up."
"That will make things easier," Paul smiled. "You are bleeding quite badly. Let me cut open your tunic so I can put a compress on the wound."
"Danke, I mean zhank you," the soldier said as he allowed Paul to cut open his tunic with his pocket knife so he could dress the wound.
Curtis set his rifle down and lit a cigarette, convinced that the wounded German soldier was harmless. Observing that the soldier was watching him with hungry eyes, Curtis pulled out his cigarette case and said, "Would you like one?"
"Bitte, I mean please," the soldier said with a painful smile.
Curtis lit the cigarette and passed it to the soldier who then began puffing gratefully.
"That’s it, just lean back and relax," Paul said in a soothing voice as he put a compress on the wound. "I think the bleeding has slowed down."
"You are very kind, Englishman," the soldier said.
"We’re not English. We are Canadians."
"Ah Canadians. I haff two cousins in Canada. I wonder if zhey are in your army shooting at us?" He laughed and winced with pain.
"Who knows?" Paul smiled. "Where in Germany are you from?"
"Hamburg, a big port city in norzhern Chermany. Und you?"
"Toronto, a city in central Canada."
"I’m from Winnipeg in western Canada," Curtis added.
"I zhink mein cousins vent to British Columbia."
"That’s in the far west of Canada."
"What is your name?" Paul asked. "I am Paul Cunningham."
"Kurt Schmidt."
"Kurt Schmidt!" Curtis exclaimed. "My name is Curtis Smith. It is almost the same name."
"It is ze same name," Kurt replied. "Did you know zhat Chermans und Englishmen are cousins anyvay?"
"Yes, our kings are for sure," Paul laughed.
"Yes, your Kaiser, our King George, and the Russian Tsar are all grandchildren of Queen Victoria," Curtis added.
"I wonder vhat ze Old Lady would zhink to see that zis family feud among her grandchildren is costing millions of lives," Kurt said as he winced from the pain.
"Sad isn’t it?" Paul frowned. "Here we were strangers without quarrel, trying to kill each other. Now we are tending your wounds."
"Take off ze uniforms und ve are all people vis ze right to live in harmony," Kurt observed. "Men above us, chenerals," he snorted, "order us to kill each ozher."
"I wanted to kill you when Paul dragged you off me," Curtis added. "Now I couldn’t kill you, even if ordered to do so."
After a time of listening to the battle raging around them, Curtis asked, "Did you volunteer or..?"
"Ja. I volunteered to serve ze Vaterland und His Majesty, Kaiser Wilhelm II. Und you?"
"I volunteered to serve the Dominion of Canada and his cousin, King George V of the British Empire,"Curtis replied. "I’m sure we both pray to God for victory."
"Ja, ve ask Gott for ze strength to kill each ozher," Kurt spat.
They listened in silence for a while as the battle raged around them. Then the tommies began arriving, leaping into the trenches around them to secure the line. Curtis joined the line to repel any counterattack, while Paul still tended to Kurt.
"What’s that Hun soldier doing here?" one of the others cried upon seeing Kurt.
"He is my prisoner," Paul said calmly. "I’m tending his wounds."
"What’s going on here?" Lieutenant Bedford said, upon arriving at the scene.
"This soldier is my prisoner, sir," Paul said directly as he stood up. "He was wounded so I dressed the wound."
"You should have shot him. Prisoners eat our rations," the lieutenant said with cold indifference.
"I couldn’t do that, sir, with his helmet off and gun taken away, he is a human just like us."
"Human, just like us, huh. What if I were to order you to kill him?"
"Please don’t put me in that position, sir," Paul begged.
Kurt looked around with fearful eyes. Was this megalomaniac going to execute him?
The other soldiers in the vicinity were platoon members who looked scornfully upon the belligerent British lieutenant at the best of times. They were appalled at the turn of the conversation. Many of them turned from their watch in disbelief.
"Get back to watching for this Hun’s buddies," Lieutenant Bedford barked. "This is not your affair."
All turned forward toward no-man’s-land except Curtis, Bob and Dale who watched events unfold from the corner of their eyes.
"Now then, soldier," he said to Paul. "It has been observed for some time that you have been soft on the Hun."
"Soft on the Hun, sir? I do my part when we are in battle, sir," Paul replied.
"Why are you then busy trying to save this Hun when you could have finished him off?"
"I saw a wounded soldier get executed once, and I didn’t want to see it again, sir."
"If you recall, I ordered him shot as an act of mercy," the lieutenant replied.
"Kurt is not mortally wounded, sir."
"Kurt is it? He is still the enemy." Lieutenant Bedford turned to Kurt and said harshly, "How many tommies have you killed to date, Hun?"
"How many Germans have you or I killed, sir?" Paul said.
"Enough!" the lieutenant bawled. "I should order you to shoot this soldier just to remind you whose side you should be on."
Paul stood in silent disbelief while Kurt’s eyes darted from one to the other.
"That’s it. I order you to execute this Hun."
"I won’t do it, sir."
"You refuse?" the lieutenant said in disbelief. "You refuse a direct order from an officer. Do you really know the penalty for that?"
"I am not a murderer, sir."
"Murderer, indeed. These animals have killed millions of tommies including my best friend. He died in agony from a gas attack. You want to show them mercy. Hah! The only good German is a dead German." Lieutenant Bedford had a trace of emotion in his voice with the last statement. "You Canadians think you can make up your own rules." Lieutenant Bedford was now worked up into a frenzy fuelled by his emotions. " I am your commanding officer, I order you to shoot that Hun." He looked at the anxiously watching Kurt with hatred-filled eyes.
"I will not do it." Paul was adamant.
"You are disobeying a direct order?"
"Yes, sir."
By now several of Paul’s comrades were watching the tirade in disbelief. Disbelieving both the lieutenant whose sanity was now in open question and Paul’s daring defiance.
"You all saw this, this insubordination," the lieutenant bawled with the tone of a madman.
All except Curtis and Bob turned back toward watching no-man’s-land. Lieutenant Bedford looked around desperately, knowing that at any hypothetical court-martial they would testify against rather than for him. Yet, his obsessive hatred for German soldiers and current emotional state clouded all reason.
"All right, then I will do it." Lieutenant Bedford drew his revolver.
Paul stepped in the way and said, "You’ll have to shoot me first, sir."
"If that’s what it takes," the lieutenant’s eyes were wild like a madman as he raised his pistol.
Paul lunged at him and tried to wrestle the pistol away. It fired, but the aim was up in the air. As they struggled, rolling around in the mud, the lieutenant gasped, "I’ll have you shot for assaulting an officer."
"To make it stick, you’ll need witnesses," Paul gasped as he tried mightily to wrestle the pistol from the lieutenant.
The pistol fired again and suddenly the lieutenant was still. Blood trickled from his mouth. There was a bullet hole in the side of his head.
"Oh, my God!" Paul gasped as he rose to his feet. "I’ve killed an officer. I’ll be condemned to the firing squad.
"It was an accident," Curtis said in a comforting voice. "He had quite clearly lost his mind."
The others were all watching again and Curtis said loudly to them, "The Hun shot him when he stuck his head up."
"Yeah, the Hun shot him," Bob added. "I saw him stick his head up."
The others all agreed. The loss of the difficult lieutenant would scarcely be mourned and certainly none would want to see Paul put up against the wall for his part in it.
"You’d better take your prisoner back to the holding area," Curtis said quietly to Paul. "Take your rifle along and make like you’re guarding him. I’ll inform the sergeant of the lieutenant’s death by enemy fire."
"Thanks, buddy," Paul replied.
Paul helped Kurt up. The latter was wide-eyed with disbelief at what he had witnessed.
"Let’s go," Paul said, picking up his rifle.
"May I put mein hat on," Kurt said as he struggled to retrieve his cloth cap from under his coat.
"Go ahead," Paul said. Kurt got his cap out, wincing painfully as he did so, then placed it on his head. "Now I can surrender like a proper soldier."
"I should zhank you very much," Kurt said, as they walked along. "You are a very brave, but foolish soldier. Mein Gott, if zhey find out, zhey vill shoot you. I know zhey vould in ze Cherman Army."
"They would here too, if they determined that I murdered the lieutenant," Paul said gravely.
"Ze ozhers vill stand mitt you, ja?"
"I think so. It was an accident anyway, as I didn’t really intend to kill the lieutenant.
"Ja, it vas accident."
As they reached the prisoner collection area behind the last row of cannons, Paul saw another dozen or so German prisoners, some like Kurt were wounded.
"Well, in a way you are luckier than me," Paul said. "For you the war is over."
"Ja," Kurt replied. "But I vill be in a prison far from mein family."
"When the shooting stops, they will probably allow you to return home."
"Vell, I vish you luck und hope you survive zis var," Kurt smiled weakly. "Und ze ozher problem."
"I plan to," Paul assured him. "I promised my sister that I would return."
"We’ll take over now," said one of the guards assigned to handle the prisoners.
As Paul stepped back, Kurt turned and said, "Auf weidersechen, mein freund."
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