your-local-storyteller

[your-local-storyteller]

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Made a community dedicated to Ian McEwan's book and Joe Wright's movie Atonement.

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[your-local-storyteller]

This following chapter a part of a larger story about WW2 I will be continuing in the future.

Before reading it and any of my future texts under this series, I wish to warn you, dear reader, about the possible mentions of death, cold murder, heavy cursing, consensual sexual content, heavy use of drugs and alchohol, sexual assault, predatory acts towards children and heavy war crimes.

As a writer, I do not support any of the previously mentioned subjects (except consensual sexual content) and they only exist in my story to create a more realistic picture of war and all the atrocities caused during WW2.

So if any previously mentioned subjects might trigger you in any way, please do not read my texts under the name of Far away from home.

For everyone else, please have a pleasant reading experience and enjoy the story. Also I would like if you gave me constructive critisism so my stories would become better.

Far away from home 

Chapter 1

-1940-

Under the dusk of summer morning, a line of trucks moved on a hard road in a countryside that had been desolated by tanks and cannons. War had scarred nature's beauty and left its wrathful mark. Graves and broken machinery laid on the fields, creating a lifeless, dark garden of death. 

The first truck thumped on a wide pit on the road, waking up one of the soldiers inside. He was sitting at the last available spot in the truck’s body, right next to the rear hatch. 

While the man was waking up, lots of whispers and murmurs of the surrounding soldiers could be heard. The engines of the trucks were humming.

The air in the truck was slightly moist and a strong stench, a mixture of sweat and tobacco, hovered in the air. 

The man finally decided to open his eyes and take look around. There were a dozen soldiers sitting with him, the man included. They all wore grey uniforms just like him.

He aimed his gaze outside, seeing mountain peaks on the horizon, beyond the line of vehicles. The peaks kept getting smaller and smaller as the truck moved forward. Seeing a glimpse of the surrounding wasteland, the man decided to move his concentration back inside.

A gray tarp protected them all from the morning sun. 

The Man’s mind felt hazy, like he didn’t remember why or where he was. 

He had a submachine gun tucked between his legs, MP40 to be exact. He touched the cold metal with his fingers and he wondered, where were they going, everyone of them armed for combat.

Based on what he saw outside, the fighting here was done. But there might still be fire and death in their destination.

The man was unsure of the situation, so he decided that the best course of action would be to listen. 

The surrounding soldiers talked with each other.

“You think Captain Falle is going to allow us to rest in Metz?” It’s a long way to Dijon and my ass is going to be sore as hell if he doesn’t,” one of the soldiers said. 

“Don’t be a whining idiot. Of course he must let us rest there.” Said a man opposite to the one who had asked the question. He was a wide grunt and he had an officer's uniform. On his shoulders, there were badges of wool, and some silver markings. 

The grunt was a sergeant. 

And according to his words, they were on their way to France.

France.

At that moment, bits of memories began to arrive in the man’s head. 

He tried to gather them together as well as he could.

The nazis had just conquered France. 

But France wasn’t the first country to fall under nazi regime.

The first to fall had been… It was Poland. 

Then… Norway had been taken…

And now France. They had invaded France and won.

They.

Realization hit the man. He was part of the third reich. He was a nazi.

He looked at his own hands. They trembled slightly, caused by the current thoughts in his head.

How many lives had he ended that he didn’t remember?

He leaned his elbows against his knees, trying to look within himself.

No.

He was a good man. 

At least from this moment on he would be.

He didn’t know who he was, but the man knew his heart.

He raised his head, now a bit more certain of himself. 

As he moved, he felt something in his pocket. Something hard but also rustling.

He scavenged his uniform’s mysterious depths. 

The man managed to gather a few German marks, a pocket knife and finally the most intriguing item, a small envelope.

There was a name and a date attached to it.

To private Eduard Vogel, 29.6.1940.

The man looked at the name.

Could his name be Eduard Vogel?

With a swift movement, the man, now presumably Eduard, ripped the envelope open. There was a small letter inside, but also something else.

An iron engagement ring.

He began to read the letter.

My dear Eduard. 

I cannot imagine your current pain inside you. 

Nor can I imagine your state of mind.

I can only lend you strength from here, far away from our home.

Stay strong my love. 

Stay brave and be careful. 

Be a good man you’ve always been.

In your troublesome state I must warn you. 

Beware of the monster that now resides close to you. Captain Kristoff Falle. 

Right now your mind doesn't remember how extremely dangerous he is.

Do not ever trust his words. 

I wish every night and day that you come back here. Back to me. 

Unfortunately I cannot be there for you but I hope this ring will ease your mind in moments of despair. May it remind you of our love that is stronger than the hate that now surrounds us all.

To you, your love eternal, 

Berta

As Eduard read the letter, his surroundings grew quiet in his mind. The cab engine, whispering soldiers, the surrounding wind…

They all grew quiet as he consumed the words. 

He had a loved one. Berta.

Eduard pressed his thumb against her name. A feeling, a faint memory, rose inside him. But he couldn’t feel it fully. But the name still brought safety and a feeling of warmth to him. 

Eduard tried the ring.

It fit perfectly. 

He started to be quite sure he truly was Eduard Vogel. 

He proceeded to put the letter back into the envelope. He hid it deep inside his uniform jacket.

After that he turned to the grunt, the sergeant who had a moment earlier insulted one of the soldiers.

“Excuse me, sergeant, but during my nap I forgot our mission in Dijon. Could you remind me of why we are going there.”

The sergeant stopped his talk and turned his face towards Eduard.

“Private, when you talk to me, you will call me sergeant Steiner! Understood?”

“Understood, sergeant Steiner.”

The sergeant looked at them all with annoyance. 

“Everyone, listen up! I will not repeat myself. He, who forgets my following words, I will personally kick him out and he is walking to Dijon alone.”

Now every soul in the truck looked at the sergeant. None of them were willing to walk almost three hundred kilometers with full equipment.

Steiner seemed like a total dick in Eduard’s opinion.

Ordering and yelling at everyone.

“There have been rumors of rebellious activity in Dijon. The French have stolen some equipment and they have also sabotaged the city's structures and our supply lines. We have been ordered to bring order to Dijon and our duty there is to work as a guarding unit. We will patrol the streets and make sure to extinguish the beginning resistance,” Steiner told everyone.

Eduard was deep in his thoughts. 

So the French people had started to fight back against their oppressors. 

Good.

The nazis were killing thousands of innocent people and they were going to kill more if nothing was going to be done. 

Eduard felt a slithering anxiety crawling in his back. He should do something, so the French could have a higher fighting chance. 

They deserve freedom. 

The nazis deserve death. 

But Eduard was on the wrong side of the fight and wasn't sure what he should do next. 

He looked down to his gun and glanced at the soldiers. They most likely wouldn’t have the same views as him. 

How many he could kill before he would die himself?

If it was a surprise and he was quick, he could kill most of them. If he hit the driver, it might also lead to a collision, possibly destroying many of the trucks and the soldiers inside.

He could take his gun and shoot them. 

But the effect would be too small. The impact he would cause would be too little. 

And he had a secret mission of his own to fulfill. 

Due to that thought, he decided to not commit suicide and mass murder, even if it were for the greater good.

The sun continued its rise and the trucks continued their way towards the city of Metz. 

An unknown future, most likely a total hell, was waiting for Eduard.

But beyond the grim future, something much more magnificent was waiting for him. 

And Eduard was ready to do anything to reach it.