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| War Story | Started by: MacLeod on Feb 09, '09 02:46 |
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You can barely see two feet in front of you as walk down the street. Only pride keeps you from reaching your hand out in front of you like an old woman stumbling in the dark. The fog has rolled in from the sea and enveloped the city in a grey mist, and you curse the hardly profitable drug deal that brought you down near the docks. Pausing, you hear a low sound that seems like it's floating from over the water. As you follow the path down towards the park overlooking the ocean, you see a young man perched on a hill and playing the violin. Slowly approaching him, you see one of his eyes flash open for an instant and appraise you. He continues, however, as you listen to the strain of the rising and falling melody. Staring at the man and trying to place him, you recognize him as MacLeod. His face is stoic, but the distraught and haunting melody seems to cry out over the waves. After a few minutes he ceases and, reaching into his pocket, offers you a cigarette. Still trying to process the music you heard, you mumble an acceptance and a small compliment. It's nothing, really- I only know the one song. Well, some Irish drinking songs as well, I suppose. Those can certainly come in handy. But business doesn't exactly leave a lot of time for practice. What brings you down here? Yea, I got stuck with the mediocre heroin too. My condolences. The story? What story? The violin? Well yea, I guess I've got some time til the next flight out. Were you in the war? No? Lucky you. Yea, you look too young for that. Alright then, let me start at the beginning... I was 15 when The Great War started. Didn't mean anything to me though, not at first. The orphanage I was at was a world of its own. We had our own alliances and trenches to worry about. Every now and then we'd catch a glimpse in the paper, but it didn't matter to us. That all changed three years later when I had to get out of town quick. The reason's not important- I don't want this to turn into a novel. Anyways, I was a big kid and I was able to sign up with the first wave of troops that was heading across the pond. I was just a dumb kid- I could shoot straight and I was too preoccupied to think about what I was doing it for. In other words, I was perfect. The trip over was fine. Joking about how we'd show the British and the French how it was done. But it was different when you got there. It was like being dropped into hell. The trenches were huge gashes in the earth with nothing but mud and blood between them. Those men that were there- the British and the French. They were alive, but it was like the life had been wrung out of them. And it was easy to see why. Right after my unit got there the USA started bearing some of the burden of the war and running down the German trenches. Luckily, the Krauts were pretty much licked by this time and they knew it, so there wasn't too much in the way of counterattacking going on. Well one day during a push toward the Germans myself and some other men got cut off. At this point in the war we'd pushed them back past their fortifications and we wound up in the middle of the woods. There were 6 of us that were split from the main group- we ended up hunkering down near a river in a dense part of the woods. We had no idea where we were and figured the best thing to do was to try to wait 'til morning and get our bearings. I was on watch, just listening to the river go by and trying to stay calm when I heard it. Probably like you did a little while ago. Just that soft violin's song floating out over the air. So I woke up one of the guys, checked my rifle and my mask, and went to check it out. I followed the song- the same one I was just playing, to a small clearing near the water. The person playing was a young man, around the same age I was. He had a muddy face and he wasn't dressed like a soldier, but I saw a holstered pistol on the tree stump next to him. I tried to sneak up on him, but the violin cut off quick when he heard me. It was almost like we were frozen for a moment. He began muttering in German and I tried to talk him down to being calm. The whole time I could see his eyes keep flicking and flicking to the pistol next to him. I pointed my Springfield at him and tried to shout him against it, but he lunged for it. I didn't even think about it- I just let him have it. Walking over to him afterwards, the poor kid was starting to choke on his own blood. So I took out my pistol, turned my head, and put him out of his misery. I was holding the violin when the other guys showed up. By that time it was started to get light out, and we struck out west as soon as we could. We had to duck around a couple patrols, but we made it back alright. It was another few months before the war ended and I ended up losing count of the people I shot. But that first one just kept coming back to me. Was it a soldier? Was it a spy? What the hell was he doing out there in the middle of the night? I don't expect I'll ever find out. But when I got back to the U.S. I brought that violin with me and had someone teach me how to use it. Every so often when I need to clear my mind I like to just come out here and play. Helps me organize my thoughts. Anyways, that's the story. You'd better hurry, though, if you want to catch that flight. Cradling the violin, MacLeod tips his cap to you and proceeds to lean against the railing, looking down into the waves as they lap up against the concrete wall. |
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| Well written there friend hope there is more to come | |
| Reply by: CadburyKid at Feb 09, '09 14:24 | |
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Stapled tips his hat to MacLeod in acknowledgment of his sad tale Very interesting story my friend, I enjoyed it thoroughly. I have heard many a sad tale from the Great War and this one is up there with the best of them. It is a shame that young German man you encountered had to suffer that fate. I do think it is a nice gesture that you are minding the violin and mastering your skills. Almost like remembering the life of that young soldier and a constant reminder of the harshness of war. |
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| Reply by: Stapled at Feb 09, '09 14:35 | |
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| Nice story mate very well written :P | |
| Reply by: DeathKnight at Feb 09, '09 16:31 | |
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| Nice story, hope you and you violin playing days bring you joy :) | |
| Reply by: MrShady at Feb 09, '09 18:44 | |
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| i wish i liked to read. | |
| Reply by: Rodey99 at Feb 10, '09 22:40 | |
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| That makes two of us. | |
| Reply by: MacLeod at Feb 10, '09 22:45 | |
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| That was a great story! Well, the first two paragraphs of it! | |
| Reply by: RevanIAm at Feb 10, '09 22:46 | |
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Coughs and heads towards the nearest bar, muttering. Are you people trying to depress and disenchant me? Or is it just happening by accident? |
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| Reply by: MacLeod at Feb 10, '09 22:51 | |
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| Well, I'm doing it on purpose, but I finished it up and it is was still great. | |
| Reply by: RevanIAm at Feb 10, '09 22:53 | |
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I noticed you said: I followed the song- the same one I was just playing And then later said that you learned how to play the violin when you came back. Also, you never said anything about playing a song... Yer story seems a bit strange ta me... |
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| Reply by: Apophis at Feb 11, '09 00:19 | |
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| Well, you did just stand there and watch me play for a while before the story started. You feeling alright, friend? | |
| Reply by: MacLeod at Feb 11, '09 05:56 | |
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