The Spoils of War

Title: The Spoils of War

Author: Anog.




The weather was getting bitter, you could see your breath in the icy wind. The cloud cover was thick that no planes could drop supplies, or help us with bombing. The snow burned to the touch as I dug my foxhole with my spade, making it deep enough to hide and get out of the weather, but not too deep that it would be a deathtrap if American soldiers were to charge us. I took a break and decided to clean my favorite little Luger pistol, as it would get very dirty fast. I cleaned it so that the little bit of sunshine would reflect off the barrel,I admired its craftsmanship and looked down the Iron sights which made me feel excited. I put it back into my pouch and continued digging.

The only relief from this is that I have brave men fighting by my side, I didn't talk to anyone much, but I could tell they'd fight to the death for their comrades. The tough dirt hurts my hands as I try to dig my shovel into the frozen, snow-covered ground. After a few chunks taken out of the ground, I begin to sweat, and in a cold environment, sweating is a most uncomfortable feeling.

An field officer wanders down the line as he checks on his defensive situation, you can occasionally hear him yelling at a soldier, 'No! You're too close together, those Americans can slip right through!'
He walks past me without saying anything and I try to chip away at the tundra ground....



Eventually, the hole is 5 feet deep and 4 feet wide.. rough estimation. I find a couple small Pine tree branch and put it over the foxhole, hoping to keep snow and the breeze out. A young soldier, not to younger than I, observes and copies my idea. I'm not selfish so I don't mind.

Suddenly, loud roars are heard in the distance, it shakes your heart and freezes your nerves. The noise is familiar to all of the German soldiers.
The explosions of American 105 Millimeter cannons break trees and send burning hot shrapnel and splinters through the air. I dived into my newly formed foxhole.

I hear the screaming of many German men as they lay out in the hellish explosions and no one can get to them for they would risk their own life. The rushing blood and adrenaline through my body warmed my up, I guess that's the only good thing out of this mess or bloodshed.

Amazingly, just as fast as is occured, it ended. Nothing was heard but the screams of the dying.
I scurry out of my foxhole as I hear another whizzing in the air, another wave of fire filled death rained on top of me, I had been impaled many times by Shrapnel and Tree branches..............


.............We charged the German lines with no opposition. The Germans had abandon their posts and a couple American soldiers came over my body which lay paralyzed.

"Hey, search him for a Luger, Hehehe."

"I get it if I find it!"

The soldier tears through my jacket and pulls the Luger from its leather holster

"Whoo Wee! It's a beauty."



...The American soldier returns home to the United States, but his Luger is confiscated by Police because of a murder he had commited with it. It had been stored away in a vault for many years.......



.........A man walks into his local Gun shop and the Owner says politely, "Hello, sir, how are you this fine afternoon"

"Great," the man said,"I am looking to buy a 9mm Parabellum Luger that you have recently acquired"

The Owner pulls out the handgun with a rag, not to get any fingerprints on the metal, "From what I was told, this pistol was from a soldier that served with the German army during 'The Battle of the Bulge' and as you see, there is still a small spot of blood from the poor boy who unfortunately was killed a day back then. This weapon has not been externally cleaned in over 60 years."

"Wow, that's quite a story, how much would that item be worth," said the anxious man

"About $546 dollars, sir."

"Oh, that'd be great!"

"Alrighty then, I need to see your drivers license and fill out these forms," Confirmed the Owner.



The man brought the gun home and showed it to his son. The son took a good look at the gun, feeling the presence of the German boy who once held this weapon two generations before him. The son looked down the sights, feeling all, including excitement.