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Children of God

A WW2 Short Story

By Toorjo MishraPublished 6 years ago 7 min read
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Source: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/434386326535465094/?lp=true

The sound of gunfire filled the city of Chambois. The 90th infantry division had pushed back the German forces to this small city in Northern France. The war was ending and everyone knew it, but here the fight continued to rage on.

Sergeant Stuart Baker led his men to a church on the west side of the town. After months in the field, the seven soldiers couldn’t wait for the war to end. Rattta-ratta. A general-purpose machine gun was raining bullets from above.

“Boys, this is it, this is the last battle we have to face before we can go home to our loved ones. The church might have more Nazis than the machine gunner on his own, so we must be fully alert. Hooyah,” Sergeant Baker bellowed.

The soldiers echoed hooyah with newfound passion. There were three doors on the first floor that the soldiers needed to clear. They all went two by two to each room while Sergeant Baker covered the stairs. After three simultaneous shouts of clear, the seven men climbed the stairs to the next level.

There was a long hall with benches for praying, a statue of Jesus Christ on the cross, and confessionals at the back of the room.

“I swear there’s a church just like this back in Denver. My Ma and I used to go there every Sunday. Fucking German bastards using a place like this as a hideout. Cowards! All of them,” one of the men shouted to the rest of the team.

“All churches look like this, you idiot. I haven’t prayed or been to a church since the war started. In fact, this might be one of the nicest ones I’ve ever seen,” another soldier replied.

“Stay focused on the mission, we can pray all we want when we are back home. The machine gun hasn’t fired in a while. Let’s go check it out,” Sergeant Baker knew that staying here while there could be Germans with the higher ground on top of them was too risky.

The spiraling steps led to a brown door already peppered with bullet holes. They got into position to storm the room. After a silent three second countdown, one soldier kicked the door open hard, so everyone could get in.

They were greeted with a lifeless Nazi body soaking in a pool of blood. The bullet was still visibly lodged in his flesh, glistening right in between his eyes.

“Well our mission ended pretty early… Allied forces surrounded the city so fast they had no idea what to do,” a man blurted out, “this is probably the work of the Canadian snipers.”

“Let’s go back to the main hall and try to set up communications with higher HQ. It will be a well-deserved break for all of us,” suggested Baker.

To the surprise of the team, a little boy with light hair and blue eyes was sitting in front of the crucifix. His legs were swinging like a metronome; while his arms were crossed. Upon noticing the soldiers, he got frightened and immediately put his hands up in mercy.

“Put your guns down, it’s just a kid,” Sergeant Baker commanded his men. All but one put down their guns.

“It’s a German kid from the looks of it,” Lance Corporal Shubert spat back, “This could be a trap. These bastards are capable of using children to kill us. We need to be careful. You guys go investigate, I’ll stay by the stairs.”

“Chill the fuck out and listen to orders, Shubert. This kid probably isn’t even strong enough to carry a gun, let alone use one,” another comrade replied rather angrily.

The men walked towards the child, “Do you speak English? We can help you, where is your family?”

The boy said something in German that no one in the room understood. Realizing that the people he was trying to talk to couldn’t understand him, the boy started to cry. Baker got down on one knee, placing his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s okay, we’re not going to hurt you in any way. What’s your name? Are your parents Nazis?”

The word Nazi was familiar to the boy and he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a red armband with a stitched swastika. Shubert pulled out his gun again, “I told you, he’s a German kid. We can’t trust him…”

“Are you listening to yourself Shubert? He’s literally just a kid. My boy back home looks just like him too. You can’t shoot him just because he was born a German,” Sergeant Baker hounded to divert Shubert from doing anything stupid.

“Sarge, these Germans killed millions of little children, they don’t care about what's right and what's wrong, why should we?” Shubert shot back, gun up.

“We are American. We do things the right way, that's what separates us and them, that’s why we’re fighting this war in the first place, god damn it! Don’t waste your time thinking about what they would do; it’s our duty to help this kid.”

“Our duty, is staying alive and making it home. If we let him go, we’re compromising the safety of all the soldiers in the city. He might run down to wherever the fuck the Germans are hiding and tell him we’ve reached Chambois,” Shubert said, his face red in anger and disgust.

“This is non-negotiable. We are not killing a child. Even if we do get out of this, you think we can sleep at night knowing what we did?” Baker slapped Shubert’s weapon down and sat down next to the boy.

“Otto.” The boy said his name to Baker, sounding frightened. He moved closer to Baker looking for some comfort.

“Is there anyone else hiding here? Where are your parents?” Baker put his hand on Otto’s shoulder trying to provide some reassurance.

Otto looked confused.

“Papa?” Baker tried again.

“Ah, Papa!” Otto pointed to the ceiling.

Horror struck the faces of the men. His father was the machine gunner shot dead upstairs. The image of his head splattered like paint on the hardwood floor was the only thing on Baker’s mind as he looked down at Otto’s innocent face. Baker pulled out a toffee from his coat and handed it to him. Otto’s face lightened up a bit.

A loud thump came from one of the confessionals. The soldiers all raised their weapons as they walked towards the disturbance. As they creeped, Baker felt a tug on his uniform. Otto was pulling Baker to get his attention. Putting up a fist, Baker signaled halt to his team.

“Are you fucking insane? There are Nazis hiding in those confessionals! We have to advance to take care of it,” Shubert yelled at Baker with disgust. “This kid is just bait! They want us to get emotional over him and abandon mission, don’t let your emotions cloud your judgment.”

Baker got on one knee and looked into the eyes of the boy. Even though the blue eyes looked similar to the ones of his enemies, Baker saw something different in Otto.

“Nein, nein,” Otto begged to the guys telling them not to go. He fell to his knees and pulled on Bakers leg to make him stop.

“Fuck this, I’m going myself,” Shubert paced to the door of the confessional and reached for the knob.

While he slowly opened the door, Otto let out a huge scream that triggered all the men to get down. A loud explosion shook the foundations of the church, parts of Shubert’s body flew all across the room. The statue of Jesus Christ was covered in blood.

“Are you guys okay?” Baker shielded Otto so no debris could penetrate his skin. After fixing their bearings, the men realized that there was a booby trap that fell but never went off in the confessional. The opening of the door had triggered it to set off.

“The kid knew something was wrong; he knew we were about to be blown to smithereens. Why did he help us if we just met him? We were about to go kill his father,” one of the soldiers let out.

“The youth is innocent no matter where they are from, we have to respect that. Shubert was a good friend and a good soldier, but the nerves of war got to him. May his soul rest in peace,” Baker grieved.

“Papa,” Otto looked up to the ceiling calling for his dad. Baker picked up Otto and held him tightly.

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About the Creator

Toorjo Mishra

Student in University of British Columbia passionate about writing and business.

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