Germany Will Honour Him ... Always?

• Andrew Hunter, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2015

“Reuben Bachmann, get that pen out of your hand and clean your rifle,’’ yelled Oberst Kruger.

“But ... ”

“Schnell!”

Reuben put down his pen, popped his love letter to Rebekah in his pocket and started to polish the end of the bayonet of his Mauser Gewehr 1898. He yearned to be home with his fiancé, but the Fatherland came first. Rain started to fall making the mud in the trenches like quicksand. Reuben’s boots drowned, making each step impossible.

The next morning the Kompanie, of which half the men were exhausted, advanced towards the British trenches, trenches that were blocked by rolls of rusty barbed wire. Soon, bullets peppered randomly around Reuben. Shells whistled through the early morning air. Dust, gas and smoke filled his eyes. Men lay dead everywhere. The smell of blood made Reuben nauseous. Then, he felt a burning pain below his heart. A sour taste rose in his throat. His knees dropped to the ground. His hand grasped his breast, his uniform turning from khaki green to crimson red. ...

... Then, the dust dissipated and the smoke began to clear. Rebekah walked towards him, smiled and reached out her hand.

‘Bachmann,’ called Oberst Kruger. ‘Your grenade!’

Reuben’s mind snapped back to reality. Had he really seen Rebekah?

With a gasp, his face contorted, he clicked open his side pouch, pulled out a Stielhandgranate 24, clenched his teeth around the pin and, with all his might, threw it. It soared through the air peacefully, landed, blowing apart the wire that had stopped the advance.

Then again, the dust dissipated, and once again Rebekah appeared. She walked towards Reuben, her hair like the finest silk, her eyes rare sapphires, and her face like an angel’s. Reuben’s mind flickered back in time: he was a young boy; his father was spanking him for playing on the Sabbath. Now, he was pressing into the hand of Rebekah, the prettiest girl in the fifth grade, a note. Now, he was reading the Torah, on his bar mitzvah - a great honour, and after, the food was scrumptious. With one last breath, Reuben clasped Rebekah’s hand, and said, ‘I love you.’ And with that he laid his head down and was still.

* * *

Rebekah walked towards the Berlin Synagogue, her handkerchief out, tears trickling down her cheeks. How had she persuaded Reuben to join the Army? He had wanted to stay with her. And now he was dead.

She climbed the marble steps to the doors of the synagogue. Rabbi Abraham was standing at the doorway. When Rebekah reached the last stair, the Rabbi spoke in a sweet manner to her, “Reuben died and he has made us proud; Germany will honour him ... always!”