Incident Near Cuney, France - November 1918

Sunday Morning At Cunel
Harvey Thomas Dunn
(Source)

"Sarge, it's still bleeding!" the young soldier screamed again, the pain was intense.

"I told ya kid, ya gotta ..." the older soldier paused as he fired again. The enemy was advancing in short rushes, he was hurting them, but each rush brought them closer and closer. "... take your belt ..." racking his bolt he fired again, "... wrap it tight as you can above the wound and torque it with your bayonet, damn it kid, didn't you pay attention in training?"

The older man started to turn around when a big German suddenly jumped out at him, bayonet poised to skewer him. His mind racing, how did the bastard get this close? He raised his rifle and fired.

The German's head snapped back, he could see that he had shot the man in the head, the hole in the helmet was obvious. Yet the man just bellowed incoherently in rage and drove his bayonet at the older soldier's chest.

In desperation, he brought his rifle up to deflect the bayonet thrust. He was only partially successful, instead of the blade sinking into his chest, it pierced his left arm just under the bicep. Miraculously it missed the bone.

Now it was the older soldier's turn to bellow in rage, his arm felt like it was on fire. He swung his right fist into the German's face. He heard the man grunt as the blow landed. But his opponent simply shook his head and reached for the older soldier's throat.

The older soldier gasped as he tried to knock the German's hands away. Those hands were clamped down on his throat and squeezing hard. Was this it? The older soldier was near panic as he tried desperately to break the German's grip.

Everything seemed muted, as if his ears were stuffed with cotton, there was a roaring in his ears as he thrashed under the German, who suddenly gasped. The German stared down at the older soldier, his face a mix of amazement and shock. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped over his intended victim. The German was dead. Shot dead.

"Jesus, buddy, are you alright?"

The older soldier was coughing harshly, he was sure that the German had damaged his windpipe, his throat hurt badly. Shaking his head he sat up looking around in near panic for his rifle.

The soldiers who had come up on the position, counter-attacking and driving back the German assault had a medic with them. That man checked the older soldier and said, "You're gonna be okay buddy, take deep breaths now, if you can."

"My arm ..." he wheezed.

The medic saw the tear in his jacket and bandaged him up as best as he could, they needed to keep moving. "That'll hold you for now, flesh wound."

"Where is ..." coughing again , but slowly getting his wind back, the older soldier looked around the position. The kid was gone, where?

"The guy that was here? With the leg wound? Stretcher bearers took him back to the aid station, tourniquet probably saved his life."

The older soldier coughed again, then reached down for his helmet, which had come off in the struggle with the enemy soldier. He brushed the mud from the interior as best he could, then once again looked for his rifle. A voice spoke.

"Hey pal, we gotta move up. Head back to the aid station when you're ready."

The older solder looked up, it was a sergeant, "Sure Sarge, thanks."

As the others moved off, the old soldier stood up and saw his rifle, it was under the dead German. Sighing he rolled the corpse over and reached for the rifle. Then for the first time, he really noticed the man who had been trying to kill him. The man he had been trying to kill.

He wasn't that old, while there was a lot of blood on the man's face, his bullet had clipped the man's scalp, his youth was obvious. The older soldier knelt next to the body for a few long moments, then he patted the corpse on the shoulder and muttered, "Sorry pal, it was you or me."

As he moved back to the aid station he began to wonder, where had the man been from, what was he like? Did he leave a family behind? After he'd walked out of sight of where the struggle had been, the older soldier had another coughing fit and had to sit down.

Then, for what seemed like no reason whatsoever, the tears began to roll down his cheeks. He had killed before, in fact had killed three men just before the struggle with the big German, but never so close as to feel the man's last breath on his face. He had never been so close to dying himself. In that long moment between his own near death and the German's actual death, he had seen something, felt something. A glimpse of eternity perhaps?

Shaking his head, he got up, "God damn this f**king war."