It had been years since I first enlisted in 1940. Oh, how young and ignorant I was, showered by visions of honor, glory and sacrifice. Some fight to proudly serve, others have little choice.
I, however - I did it for the fame. It was a lifelong dream to fight alongside my brave countrymen, to reap the souls of my enemies and spread death among their ranks. Little did I know that these brave countrymen would cower in smoldering foxholes, and little did I know that I too would cower in their midst.
I felt fear. I felt fear long before the ships reached the soil of Normandy. I quivered in sheer terror as the shells of distant artillery guns whistled past me at breakneck speeds. I could not help but cry for my mother as I watched my comrades fall, torn to shreds by fearsome gunners, who like demons spat lead, firing relentlessly and without pause. I served my proud nation with loyalty and strength, but my endurance could only last so long...
There we lay on that foggy afternoon, entrenched, grim clouds passing overhead as rain pelted down upon us like countless bits of steel. We stood alone, cut off from all outside support. The enemy had long terrorized our front, fighting like a rabid beast, foaming at the mouth. A terrible fire, the lust for blood shone brightly where its eyes might be, never to be quenched; we feared this foe above all else, and we felt no shame for it. Artillery barrages and an endless rain of mortar fire became the daily norm. Our supplies ran short and morale died tenfold for every gravely wounded comrade. What was once a great battalion of staunch defenders was reduced to little more than a glorified platoon. All for the incompetence of the men charged with leading us towards victory. Quite frankly, we were prepared to abandon our post, for it was not our war to fight.
And so we did. It did not take long before we slaughtered our lieutenants in the dark of night. I took no part in this shameless act of mutiny, though I fought with little more than a furrowed brow, lest I'd suffer a similar fate. We marched through the fields, avoiding the light of day, hiding ourselves from passing SS divisions as we inched towards somewhere safe from prying eyes. We would have discarded our uniforms long ago, though it would have been of little use, for the chaos of war engulfed all. Sometimes we stumbled past abandoned farms, other times we scavenged. Still, it was better than lying around in a worm-ridden trench, so we didn't complain.
We were a group of thirty-two by the fifth week. I was surrounded by exhausted men, most of whom I did not know, praying to escape this vast conflict with at least a drop of humanity within them. I did not beg God under the blanket of night, and neither did my closest friends, Klaus, Ernst, and Walter, as we knew better than to waste our breath. They, like myself, fully realized the gravity of our fate.
We were neither friend nor foe. We were the deserters, the most vile and cowardly of men, below murderers and rapists. We were the banished lepers, and by refusing to defend the Fatherland, we dug our own shallow grave...
We walked through the great expanse of the French motherland, listening as talk of defeatism grew ever more present. The war neared its close, only a fool would deny it. With the Eastern front breached and the fall of fascist Italy, there was no doubt about it. Soon the Allies would retake their land and let loose their desolation upon our majestic country. I feared the enemy. I feared the Bolsheviks, the Americans, the French... Though most of all, I feared my own.
And so C Battalion, known now as the Company of Cowards, ventured forth towards home, towards Berlin, praying to find refuge among our people...
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125,029 Literary Works • 672,786 Reviews
Wow.
You've definitely got a talent for writing in the first person, and you are great at making it seem so realistic, vivid and colorful that its like an actual veteran is speaking.
You can feel his shame, his fear and loneliness.
This is your first story on war?
You obviously did your research. In 1940 the German army was indeed at its peak, and many men were honored to serve. Only in the later years did the men start to lose heart.
This is very well done. I am a complete control freak on historical accuracy, authenticity and realism. And you passed my test for sure.
I do have one question though.
"I could not help but cry for my mother as I watched my comrades fall, torn to shreds by fearsome gunners, who like demons spat lead, firing relentlessly and without pause."
This is taking place at the Normandy landings, correct? So wouldn't he be the one defending the beach, not the one being demolished by the fire of the guns in the bunkers? Unless you're talking about the gunfire of the Allied infantry as they stormed the bunkers or something. I'm just confused.
Overall, this was a great piece, and you've got tons of talent for this sort of thing.
10/10
Outstanding.
Ah, an old and dated work of mine. Hey, but thanks. I'm also one for perfect historical accuracy. A work should be as true to its time period as possible, in my opinion.
You know, a few people reviewed this cca a year after it was written, and y'all seem to like it somewhat. I'm thinking I should rewrite it. After all, I've improved some in the past year. Might consider giving that a shot!
Rewrite it for sure! I'll be glad to give that a review as well.
I'm also happy to see another writer who posts historical fictions as close to the facts as possible. idk Historical Fiction has been slacking lately, not many people write it. Its sad.
I've been hoping to revive the genre and all.
Yup. Totally agree. Don't even get me started on arguing with people over hand-to-hand combat and fencing in the middle ages. Most people are convinced that you can't run in plate harness.
And all that is exactly because there aren't enough loyal historical fiction writers. Imma take this concept and transfer it into the Six Day War in Israel. That's a time period seldom explored.
haha true, and many people still believe you can just slide your sword against a suit of plate and have the wearer tumble to the ground in a pool of blood.
Yeah, no.
There are tons, and I mean tons, of unexplored topics in history. Ever heard of the entirety of the Dark Ages? Most people don't know a single thing of what happened between 400 and 1000 AD.
Wait, you're going to write something about the Six Day war?
Cause that sounds awesome. Write as much historical fiction as you can, and I'll help you spread the word as much as possible. I have a few friends on here who would love to review any historical fiction, as they always review mine.
Hey, I appreciate it. I'm all for some mutual helping out. I think we can get a collaboration of sorts going, spreading the word, making known what isn't so, if you catch my drift. You and the friends you mention.
PM me tomorrow and perhaps we can start spreading around some good historical fiction. Besides, never hurts to have allies here and there.
Awesome!
I'll be there to form a plan tomorrow, I've already contacted some people who will help us make our writing and the general genre more popular.
Very good. Looking forward to this grand cooperation!
Yes, lets get history back in people's minds.
Radrook here a once again to offer some suggestions.
Apologies if i offend. It isn’t my intention.
Please feel full free to cast aside all things you deem not helpful.
But if you do be sure its true by being extra careful.
That having been said:
This is one of the most entertaining stories I have read on this web-site. It brought me into the mind of this soldier and made me feel the desperation and fear that he was feeling during that whole ordeal. I especially like how the story kept the identity of the battalion secret almost to the very end. I thought that the unit was not a German one but part of the allied forces which invaded at Normandy. I should have realized that it was German unit when the mention of discarding their uniforms in order to blend in with the civilian population was mentioned. But somehow I kept thinking it was an allied unit.
The final part was equally dramatic with the soldier still regarding his country as great although facing inevitable defeat. Perhaps the description of the enemy as being a monster, foaming at the mouth, and demonic helped to dissuade me that they were possible Americans, British or French. So that served to keep me thinking Nazi for the surprise turnaround. Very nicely done! Look forward to reading more of your work.
Oh, well thank you!
This is over a year old, but if it's actually good, I might as well rework it and start anew. Been interested in writing a partisan story for some time now.
Hello! I'm the Chirave Canicthus, and I'm here to review your work on behalf of the Spoopy Skeletons!
I really like this piece. Throughout it, you hold a constant tone of how dreary and bleak these wars were. It all sounds so hopeless. It fits with the title well, also.
The plot is so great! I can just imagine all of this going on. What goes on is alluded to even in the earlier part of the story. I appreciate how it wasn't just a split second PLOT TWIST!!1!! but something that was constant through the story. I can imagine myself doing exactly what the narrator does in this situation
I can't find any grammar nitpicks, but I really do love the commentary on all that was done. The part where he compares himself to the lowest of society makes me realize how much it was ingrained into their brains that they shouldn't be doing this. Now that I look back on the story, I can see much of the tone was almost like a confession. A guilty regretting kind of mood, if I may.
I actually can't express how you've described everything. Nothing's all that literal, but there's so much figurative language that I get a better feeling of what the main character's going through mentally than physical. I really appreciate that, especially because I'm guilty of being a very literal writer. (Rip me.)
So yeah. I really like this!
Keep Writing!
Chiravian Out!
Hey, thanks!
I might actually follow up on this and finish it some day, but I myself am guilty of never finishing my work. It's always more exciting to start something new!
nice! a very well done prologue - i could find only a few areas for improvement here. you utilized figurative language well, didn't use "I" too much. reading this felt smooth and i could imagine what you were describing well.
>...by visions of honor, glory and sacrifice. Some fight to proudly serve, others have little choice.
I, however - I did it for the fame.
i don't think you need a new paragraph here.
>and little did I know that I too would cower in their midst.
"midst" might not be the best word here. although it still works, "midst" is - from what I know - normally used for when the character is in the middle of a bunch of enemies or strangers. i would've written "and little did I know that I'd be doing the same." that's just my opinion - but then again, that applies to every review ever.
>I quivered in sheer terror as the shells of distant artillery guns whistled past me at breakneck speeds.
"breakneck speed" is usually applied to humans/animals running. "faster than I could've ever imagined" would be cool
>...torn to shreds by fearsome gunners, who like demons spat lead, firing relentlessly and without pause.
"who like demons spat lead" feels awkward and slows down the text. "who spat lead like hellish demons" or something would work
>I served my proud nation with loyalty and strength, but my endurance could only last so long...
ellipses unnecessary
>I served my proud nation with loyalty and strength, but my endurance could only last so long...
There we lay on that foggy afternoon, entrenched, grim clouds passing overhead as rain pelted down upon us like countless bits of steel. We stood alone, cut off from all outside support.
minor problem, sentence structure repetition. this could apply to some other parts of your writing here, i feel. something happens, comma, something else happens.
>The enemy had long terrorized our front, fighting like a rabid beast, foaming at the mouth.
rabid beasts.
>What was once a great battalion of staunch defenders was reduced to little more than a glorified platoon.
"glorified platoon" ain't punchy enough. "platoon" makes me think they're still well-organized and cohesive.
>Quite frankly, we were prepared to abandon our post, for it was not our war to fight.
"this" was not our war to fight.
>We were neither friend nor foe. We were the deserters, the most vile and cowardly of men, below murderers and rapists. We were the banished lepers, and by refusing to defend the Fatherland, we dug our own shallow grave...
nice. although i do wish you'd stop with those goddamn ellipses...
>We walked through the great expanse of the French motherland, listening as talk of defeatism grew ever more present.
...defeatism? just "defeat" would do.
>The war neared its close, only a fool would deny it.
was nearing.
>Soon the Allies would retake their land and let loose their desolation upon our majestic country.
something tells me this guy wouldn't be thinking of his country as "majestic" right now.
Thanks for the review! I never really took lessons on "proper" English sentence structure. I work purely instinctively, so that could partly play a role in my lack of essential skill development. What are, if I may ask, the ellipses used for anyway? I usually use them at the end of a philosophical thought or when I'm skipping ahead in time. Embarrassing mistake.
I must agree with most of the points made. Except for a few. The paragraph break was actually a formatting issue. I had originally wrote this in Wordpad and pasted it into the text editor. It was merely a new line when I first wrote it.
With the "rabid beast(s)" part, I intended to make it singular on purpose. I did so to emphasize on the thoughts these soldiers may have felt. They saw their enemy not as individuals, but as a single unified force, a rabid beast. But perhaps plural would have worked better.
Defeatism was a thing in Nazi Germany, especially near the end of the war. When the gestapo caught people doubting the great German war machine, they would often times arrest and punish them. That's why I chose defeatism instead of defeat, to hint even more at the fact that it's a story about Wehrmacht soldiers and not Allied troops. But again, it doesn't sound as good in the sentence as defeat.
This soldier loves his land above all else. He blames the Allied forces for its destruction. After all, he was raised in an age of propaganda. Most likely, he himself was a part of Hitler's Youth, trained to be a loyal soldier from the start.
I hope to make the story not only a physical journey, but a psychological one as well. One where the soldier slowly realizes that it is the great warmonger who is at fault. Sure, he deserted the Wehrmacht, but he did not yet forsake the leaders of Germany.