Tag der Niederlage

"Jeder Rückzug, ein Schritt vorwärts. Jeder Fehlschlag, eine Hoffnung auf Erfolg. Jeder Tag der Niederlage, ein neuer Sieg."

Connerré, France. 9th of August, 1944

What is there to say about a bombed French city? Each building tells a small story of it's own, whether it's about the families that lived there or merchants that made their living under those roofs. Every room, big and small, contains a small page of these stories, whether it's written on burnt paper or simply emblazoned in objects, such as furniture, artwork and decorations.

Yet, as different as these stories are in the beginning, most of them end in the same way. Families destroyed, their homes burnt and looted... Their lives turned into mere numbers.

When we arrived to Connerré last week, my heart sank upon witnessing the destruction we caused. Many buildings had been reduced to rubble, while those still standing were plundered and bereft of all their former beauty. The streets were littered with debris, and most houses were burnt and collapsed.

I remember the days when we occupied Poland and western Russia... When we left, we were ordered to destroy everything in our path, and execute thousands of civilians along the way. I can still remember the cries of the despaired women, whose husbands and children were hanged beside them.

Looks like on this new retreat, the land will be purged as well.

One of my fellow squad members found a mass grave in a small park. There, at least two dozen bodies lied limp inside muddy pit, all showing signs of being shot.

I could distinguish women and children among the dead... Mass executions were not unheard of these days. With the constant threat of partisans, together with the advancing American and British armies, our men have no choice. Kill or be killed, be it in the hands of our enemies, or some twisted, evil minded Schutzstaffel officer.

This is not a war. It's homicide, butchery...

And with these odds, we can't possibly win it.

...

...

"Bosch!" My train of thoughts was abruptly disrupted. I opened my eyes and noticed Oberleutnant Schmitt standing by the door. He was a tall man, wearing the standard grey uniform of the Wehrmacht Heer, with a helmet on his head and an MP40 in his left hand. "Die Allierten are on the move, headed zis vay. Get ready."

For the past three days we had been preparing the town against the invasion. Barricades and tank barriers were deployed on every street, buildings were fortified and German snipers were scattered in every direction. The tension increased even more when the SS began to flood the place with their wicked antics. Some even planted Nazi banners and flags on  buildings and defences, in a shameless attempt to raise their fanatical morale.

As a Wehrmacht Soldier, I hate them.

"Die Amerikaner?" I asked, puzzled by the news of the imminent attack. "Ich thought we didn't have to expect them 'til ze weekend..." I slowly stood up and massaged my aching neck.

"Vell, it seems somebody didn't do his job properly." He turned to the window and pointed at the wine bar. At least five SS officers could be seen enjoying their stolen French liquor. "Either vay, we don't have much time until zey arrive. Get by ze window and wait for my order. Wilhelm and Gunther will get hier soon with einem MG-42."

"Verstanden." I walked by the window and knelt down, removing my Karbiner 98 rifle from my shoulder and  taking off the safe. "Leutnant?" I asked, just before he left. "What about ze Panzer?" Directly in front of me, the broken Panzer VI Tiger tank provided an excellent cover for anyone trying to storm my position. Any fool could simply hide behind it and lob grenades at our position.

"What about it?"

"Vell, zhat's a giant piece of bulletproof metal. Die Amerikaner could easily hide behind it... Why did nobody take care of zhis?"

"Do I look like ein General to you? Zhey left it there for a reason."

"Und that reason is...?"

"Beats me..."

I gave a sigh in contempt as the officer walked out of the room, leaving me alone to prepare myself. I began checking my equipment when I heard some rustling coming from the neighbouring room. I turned and spotted the Leutnant poking his head through the opened door.

"Oh, I almost forgot." He threw three stielhandgranaten at my general direction, landing close to my feet. "Use these to blast anyone behind ze Panzer. Do not waste them."

I gave him a pleased smile and nodded while he retreated back to his own position. When I began attaching the grenades to my harness, I noticed a squad of SS troops removing all soldiers from the street. In a matter of seconds, the entire road was bereft of life, a deep silence taking over the scene.

"All clear! Move up! Go, go, go!"

An American voice broke through the tense silence with a loud yell, followed by the sound of many boots hitting the ground. I quickly positioned myself to shoot at the road, aiming directly at the ruined building by the corner of the street.

"Johann!" Schmitt said in a hushed voice. "Nicht schießen. Wait for ze signal."

I silently nodded and hid behind the wall. The noise intensified as around twenty Allied soldiers ran through the ruined building in front of my position.

"Spread out!"

*BANG!*

"SNIPER! SNIPER!"

I peaked through the opening to find the Americans taking cover behind some crates on the street. A dead body lied limp on the cobblestone road, slowly forming a puddle of it's own blood.

"FEIND KONTAKT!"

I could hear a yell coming from the winery's second storey, most probably from our sniper. A few of the Americans retaliated, shooting him across the street while completely oblivious of my presence.

I ducked back behind the wall and began waiting. While the standoff kept going on the street, the sound of boots again rang through my head. Turning to the window on my left, the one overlooking the panzer, I noticed at least three German platoons running straight towards the Allied position.

Was zum Teufel? What are they-

"KRAUTS IN THE OPEN!"

In a split second, the entire Allied strike force opened fire at the grey coated soldiers. I closed my eyes as a cacophony of rifles, machineguns and grenades rained hell on the road below.

"Alles klar, männer! Feuer frei!"

From the next room, I could hear the rest of my squad shooting through the windows and holes in the wall, yelling incomprehensible words at each other.

Taking a deep breath, I stood up and slightly poked my rifle out of cover. Looking to my back through the front window, I saw a group of Americans stacking up by the ruins, one of them looking out through the corner. Slowly, I levelled up my rifle at their position, waiting for them to run out.

"SQUAD! FLANK RIGHT!"

Wait.... focus...

Running as fast as they could, five men clad in green uniforms ran out of their cover, heading towards the wrecked Panzer. Without thinking twice, I squeezed the trigger.

"MOVE! MOVE! MOV-" *bang*

Got him.

Satisfied with my first kill of the day, I got behind cover and operated the bolt of my rifle. The other four Allies, however, made it behind the tank.

Without thinking twice, I grabbed one of my grenades and lobbed it behind the Panzer.

A dud. Of course.

Fearing retaliation, I snuck into the neighboring room, joining up with the rest of my squad. I arrived just in time to see Wilhelm and Gunther run into the room, carrying an MG-42 and a few ammo belts. Both men seemed exhausted and had their uniforms covered in dirt and blood.

Hopefully not their own.

"Herr Leutnant! Where do you want ze MG?!"

"About time! Hier, on these sandbags! Schnell!"

Gunther, the tallest of the two, lowered himself to a crouching position behind the sandbags, which were set to cover a big hole punched through the wall. He grabbed the MG and unfolded the bi-pod, resting it on the canvas surface, while Wilhelm fed a long ammo belt into it's receiver.

With a loud burst, the machine gun came to life, striking panic among the Allied ranks. The green coated soldiers quickly ducked behind the tank, most probably praying for their lives. Those too slow were shredded to pieces.

I took a step back and looked at the Oberleutnant. He too was visibly disappointed in our engineers and sappers. Our soldiers outside began retreating, running for cover in the heat of combat. Some even got inside our building, one carrying a heavy field radio in his back.

An SS officer ran in as well, just as scruffy as the others. He grabbed the field radio and began transmitting.

"Wotan, hier Walküre! Haben schwere Verluste! Feind bei Emil Minus dreizehn Plus fünf in Zugstärke durchgebrochen! Fordern umgehend Entsatz! Stellung kann nicht gehalten werden! Ich wiederhole, Stellung kann nicht gehalten werden, kommen!"

"HERR LEUTNANT!" Gunther cried out. "ZE MG! ZE TRIGGER IS STUCK ON AUTOMATIC!"

"WHAT!"

"IT WON'T STOP FIRING!"

"SCHEISSE! WE HAVE TO GET OUT!"

To my horror, we were completely surrounded. There was no way out...

"WE CAN'T! WE ARE SURROUNDED!"

*click* *click* *click*

"NEIN! NEIN! NEIN! IT'S OUT OF AMMO!"

"GET A GRENADE IN THERE!"

What...? I looked below and saw two green grenades by my feet. Oh scheiße...

"GRANATE!"

"GET OUT! LOS! LOS! LOS!"

The last thing I remember was being blasted out of the window. I think Wilhelm and Schmitt managed to survive, though I doubt they escaped unharmed. Darkness overcame me as I plummeted down onto the hard cobblestone road. I tried to move, but I couldn't feel my body, only a sharp pain, and cold beyond the imaginable.

I felt an alien warmth around me when I woke up. A soft silk caressed my skin as I slightly shifted my body to hug the pillow. I opened my eyes to find myself in a small bedroom, resting comfortably on a small bed. My legs were curled inwards, since the mattress was too short for me, and a smooth bed sheet warmed my hurt body.

I began slowly scanning the room I was in, taking special note on the posters and decorations pasted over the blue walls. To my right, next to the bed, white trimmed window showered the sun's light into the little bedroom, with it's blue curtains laid open by the sides.

Directly in front of me, a big closet was built beside the doorway, it's wooden doors painted in bright white. It was partially open, revealing a few unpainted drawers and clothing hanging from barely invisible hangers. I could tell this room belonged to a young boy, possibly around the age of fifteen or sixteen. A most refreshing sight, in comparison to the crumbling towns of occupied Europe.

I turned to my left and saw my tunic and camouflage smock lying on a chair, next to a wooden desk. My jackboots had also been removed from my body, placed on the floor beside my clothes. My equipment and helmet were placed nearby as well, resting on top of the desk.

My eyes were drawn back to the posters. Their design was that of military recruitment propaganda, written in bold English letters. But... why horses? Each sign featured a white, winged horse holding a spear with either it's wing or hoof. They were both clad in a medieval looking golden armour, one of them bearing a chain mail underneath the plate.

I was intrigued by the premise of their titles, though. 'Equestrian Royal Guard'? I thought with amusement. Whoever drew these surely has some imagination.

I tried to get up for a closer look when an uncomfortable pain emerged from my ribs. I moved away the covers and realized my shirt had been unbuttoned, and blood soaked bandages were tightly wrapped around my thorax. I moved my hand forward to touch my chest, feeling my ribs intact, save for a few sore spots on my skin.

Just what happened to me? I tried to think back to the moment I blacked out. My memory was spinning and only small fragments came back to my mind. There were many gunshots.... The Allies assaulting our position...

The grenades...

Realization hit me like a truck. How could I possibly survive that? What happened to Gunther and the others? Was I captured when found alive?

No, no... I couldn't have been captured, I thought inwardly, puzzled by my situation. I should have been restrained and my equipment taken away...

Perhaps some French family felt pity and took me in..? Bah, who am I kidding. The French wouldn't have helped a German. Not after all we did to them.

I interrupted my train of thoughts when I tried to get up again. I winced a bit, but slowly made my way into a sitting position on the bed. I gave a slight grunt while trying to stretch out, what little I could.

"Ah... scheiße..."

While buttoning up my shirt, I moved towards the desk to check my equipment. My belt and webbing were neatly splayed on the wooden surface, with all their attachments still bound to the leather. My six ammunition pouches were left untouched, and my trusty shovel was still packed in it's sheathe, together with my mess kit, bread bag, battle pack and canteen.

On top, the metallic canister containing my gas mask lied closed, together with my grenades, gas pouch, pistol holster and helmet. As for my rifle, I found the weapon lying diagonally on the floor, resting over the desk's right side.

I noticed there were a few other items placed on the desk, beside my combat gear. There was a small white lamp on the far right end, working as paperweight for a few clean parchment sheets. Next to it, two wooden frames were on display, one holding some sort of document, while the other a coloured photograph.

It was a strange sight, to say the least. Just like the posters on the wall, the picture featured these weird looking horses. This time around, however, the creatures looked quite different. Their coats and manes were painted in vibrant colours, nowhere near those of normal horses, and all had horns sticking out of their foreheads.

Unicorns, apparently. Mythical beasts with magical powers.

Yet, the picture had this uncanny 'realistic' look to it. Despite the sheer craziness of the concept, the herd of unicorns in that picture looked almost like real, living creatures. They looked like a family, posing and smiling for the camera all together, accompanied by what I thought was their pet lizard.

A very odd looking lizard, though.

I grabbed the frame and brought it closer to my eyes, in an attempt to analyse it's authenticity even further. I stared at it for about ten seconds before putting it back, just as confused as when I first saw it.

This doesn't make any sense, I thought. First the posters, and now this photo... Whoever owns this place is really obsessed with horses...

Deciding I had no further reason to stay in that room, I sat on the chair and slid my feet into the jackboots, feeling the leather once again brushing against my skin. Then, ignoring the pain in my chest, managed to put on my tunic, buttoning up all but the upper button.

Leaving the room, I found myself in a narrow hallway, which led to a staircase on the opposite end. I could distinguish a very low voice coming from downstairs, most probably belonging to my 'saviour'. As I got closer to the stairs, I noticed it wasn't just one, but two women talking in English.

Needless to say, I felt all but safe. Making the least noise possible, I hacked the wall beside the stairs, trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.

"So... do you have any idea on when he's gonna wake up?"

"It's hard to tell, Twilight..."

"I just don't want him to experience more pain..."

"There isn't much we can do about it. His wounds are healed, at least. But he went through a lot... Remember to administer him some of that medicine I gave you, should he start screaming again."

Wait... what? Screaming? I thought.

"I will."

I could now hear footsteps coming from below, as well as the distinguishable creaking from a badly oiled door. I felt a chill run down my spine, welcoming the cold breeze from outside.

"Well, that's it for me. Take care, Twilight. And remember to keep him out of sight. His uh... kind... may not be quite welcome."

"A sad truth. Thanks for coming, Red. I mean it."

"Hey, anything for a friend. I'll come around next week, kay?"

"Sure. Have a safe trip."

"You worry too much. Best of luck tonight!"

"Thanks. Good bye!"

I returned to my room once I heard the door close, sitting down on the bed and trying to put my head in the right place. Well, that woman was surely a nurse, I thought, giving a sigh.  But Verdammt... Just where am I? If I could-

"Ah! You're awake!"

My heart almost skipped a beat. My trail of thought was abruptly broken by her voice. How could have she snuck into the room that easily? Didn't I close the door?

What is happening to me? Why can't I turn my head to face her?

Taking a long, deep breath, I slowly turned towards the door and stared dumbfounded at the shape before me.

Standing by the threshold, a white horse looked at me with her huge turquoise eyes. A motherly look was drawn on her expression, and a white, pointy horn poked out of her white and purple mane.

...

...

"Was zum Teufel?"