 
The Old Gray

Written by: Hanz Lünfer Neinhausen

**Published by: Hans Neinhausen  
Copyright 2014 The Old Gray  
Hans Neinhausen 2014**

K

Table of Contents

PAGE

1. The Good Ol' Times 7

2. The Rotting 31

3. A Brazen Interrogation 35

4. The Old Gray 37

5. A Hurried Escape 42

6. The Cells 46

7. A Messy Job 53

8. A Clean Surveillance 57

9. Intelligence & Unintelligence 63

10. The Treacherous Trespass in the Midst of Execution 68

11. Preparation for the Intense Escape 72

12. The Intense Escape 77

13. From the Flames of Desperation to a Victorious Inspiration 93

14. The Final Pathway 106

15. Living in Peace 111

16. Coming out of Retirement 122

17. A Sweet Reunion 150

18. The Disappearance 157

19. Search and Rescue 167

20. The Rescue 171

21. Hopeless, but Not Forgotten 174

22. The Return 176

The Old Gray© is dedicated to God, who without You creating me, this would not be a possibility, and my family members and all of the veterans who have served in the United States military and rescue services. A special dedication goes out to: SFC John Joseph Nichols, Robert John Dunn (R.I.P. Pops, 'Hey boy, where ya been?'), Robert Lohse, J.T. Gilbertson, Richard Lohse, Grabowski, Timothy Sneed, and Richard Williams (Rest in peace, uncle. You served your time and did well for the nation and for God.). I love all of you and I thank you for your service and dedication to our country to fight and prepare the freedoms of the American citizens. God bless America!
Shadows are as visions

Hatred and peace intertwined

Battles wage in foreign states

In different lobes of the mind

Distraction becomes wisdom

Understanding is hard to find

When opinion becomes religion

Truth balances on a line

In the realm of intellect

None are spared from control

Except the occasional few

That set fire to their soul

-Gawain Avalon

Warning: This book contains graphic depictions of war violence and is not for the faint of heart. This is a non-fiction/ fictional work and all content herein corresponding to any individual or circumstance in reality is merely coincidental. Enjoy and thank you!
Chapter 1: The Good Ol' Times  
November 17, 1960. The phone rang on the living room wall. The Old Man rubbed the sleep from his eyes and set his feet onto the floor to stand up from his chair. He stood up as his knees popped and walked across the room to answer the phone. The birds were incessantly cawing outside of the windows of his cabin as he picked up the Army-camouflage telephone from its receiver.  
"Would you shut up?" He said as he put the phone to his ear.  
"Hey, are you planning on attending the morning service?"  
"Yes, Father John, I will be there at my usual time."  
"Okay, see you then."  
"Until then."  
The Old Man hung up the phone as his dog nudged him on the leg with her wet nose.  
"Are you ready to go eat, girl?"  
Cali barked excitedly and pressed her body low to the ground with her front paws, and then she lurched into the air like a bucking bronco.  
"That's my good baby."  
"Go, get your leash."  
Without hesitation Cali ran over to the screen door and gripped the leash which hung from a hat rack. As she turned around to drag it to the man she could see him vigorously rubbing his dog tags with his fingers. The Old Man waited by the dresser as Cali brought him the leash.  
"Nuh uh... where is the choke chain?"  
She placed the leash in his hands and turned around to get her choke chain from the dresser. She pulled at the rope and opened the drawer to retrieve it.  
"Thank you kindly."  
He pulled the chain over her thick, Swedish Buttercup fur and attached the leash to the o-ring on the collar. Cali walked in front of The Old Man as they approached the screen door. He grabbed his keys from the hat rack and exited the kitchen. As soon as he stepped outside the bite from the 68 degree wind hit him.  
"Whoa man! Sure is blustery today."  
Cali pulled the leash in The Old Man's hand and he released her to run to the truck while he locked the door. The morning fog had not lifted yet and hung lazily above the ground like a glutton in a hammock slumbering away in his food sedation. It drifted around The Old Man as he walked to his lifted F-350 truck which shone brilliantly in the meadow's dawning sunlight. He walked to the passenger side and lifted Cali into the vehicle. As he walked around the front of the truck a 3-point buck was spooked and bounded across the private drive. Cali aggressively barked at the fleeing deer.  
"I know. She was a beauty. We'll get us a nice'un come hunting season."  
The Old Man opened the driver-side door and hoisted himself into the seat using the lighted handle and foot railing for support. As he sat down into the leather seat he turned on the ignition. He swiveled his body around to the edge of the doorway and reached into the door for his .38 Special revolver. He picked up the gun by the butt and set it in his lap to examine it for spent ammunition.  
"Grab me the ammo can would ya?"  
Cali placed her left paw onto his right shoulder as he spoke to her.  
"I love you too."  
Cali flicked the latch on the glove compartment and it opened. The Old Man grabbed the ammunition canister and removed two rounds from it. He placed them into the revolver and put the gun back into its holster inside of the door.  
"I still cannot believe that badger attacked you. Why did you make me shoot it? You know I don't like you snooping around when I am not here... you could've been killed!"  
Cali panted lightly as they drove down Old Gray Drive towards Highway 303. The Old Man rolled down his driver and passenger windows to enjoy the cool breeze.  
"Sure is gorgeous out here. Don't you think we're getting a lil' too old for all of this?"  
"Martin would have a fit if I sold my truck for a jalopy. Even though I like this truck, it eats up gas, and the older vehicles were easier to maintain."  
Cali barked as two antelope raced alongside of the truck and bounded over the property fence line to the Abeedobab River. As the lead antelope leapt ahead and splashed into the quiescent trickle, the grunt antelope trudged casually and peered back at the truck as The Old Man drove by rubbing his dog tags. After 35 miles of dirt road The Old Man approached the turn towards the Highway 303 towards Signawunder, New Mexico. As he halted to a stop at the intersection a raven flew overhead and cawed at him.  
"C'mon! Are you going to crap on my like you did to Mikhail?"  
The raven dove down towards the ground and rested in the grassy overgrowth which littered the ditch alongside of the highway.  
They really must do some upkeep... the grasses are a fire hazard. The Old Man thought. At least I can do my part to keep my property safe. As he approached the city limits he could hear the screams of children playing in the Madison schoolyard. He honked his horn and waved at them. He continued down the street until he reached Main Avenue. Macy's Diner sat on the corner of Main Avenue and The Old Man frequented it every Sunday for breakfast before church. The Old Man enjoyed the food, and Macy treated Cali like a human every time that she arrived. As he pulled into the driveway into his reserved spot, his longtime friend, Cody Blunden approached the truck. Cody opened the passenger door and Cali jumped into his arms as if to say, "I love you." She licked his face and he put her on the ground. She ran over to the grassy knoll towards her favorite fire hydrant and took care of business.  
"How's the weather up there?" Nicholas said as The Old Man got out of the truck.  
"Fair to Midland."  
The Old Man whistled for Cali and she obediently ran to his side. Just then the sound of a speeding '68 Chevelle Super sport raced at the green light of Main Avenue and squealed into the driveway of Macy's Diner.  
"Here he comes," The Old Man said.  
"Yep."  
"We never know when he'll show, but we sure know when he is arriving."  
The driver sped down the parking lot into the alleyway. The wheels spit out dirt in all directions and pelted the array of trashcans and shopping carts which lined the alley. The car came to an abrupt stop and launched into reverse. It sped backwards and made a 90° e-brake turn near the end of the driveway into a parking spot. The driver revved up the engine as The Old Man and Cody approached the vehicle. They could feel the roar in their chests and feet.  
"Wassup brothas!" Martin exclaimed.  
"Hey. Wow! Are you working for Ron again as a stunt driver?" The Old Man asked.  
"Nah, I just feel the need for speed. It beckons every time I feel that rush of excitement to see you guys."  
"Let's eat now. Church will start soon." The Old Man stated.  
They walked in and sat down at their table by the fireplace. Macy approached with her notepad.  
"The usual?" She asked.  
"Yes ma'am." The Old Man stated.  
"Macy, I put Cali's dog food bowl into the backseat today. It is not in the back of the truck."  
"Okay, got it."  
Macy grabbed Cali's leash and led her into the kitchen.  
"Sit. Good girl. Stay."  
Cali sat by the door as Macy walked out to The Old Man's truck. The dust was still settling from Martin's childish antics and she shook her head in disgust. She approached the truck and opened the rear door to grab the food bowl. As she was shutting the door she felt a hand on her shoulder.  
"Ah!"  
"It's just me, Macy."  
"Oh, Huskers, you startled me."  
"Sorry, ma'am. Could I have a few pieces of bacon? I am starving."  
"Only if you show up to church service at 10:30 then I will consider."  
"Okay, I will do that. I'll wait on the porch until church starts an' then I'll be back after service."  
"Remember to smoke off of the premises, please. And, throw your bottles in the dumpster. I am tired of constantly cleaning up after you."  
"Ye- yes, ma'am. Will do."  
Macy walked back into the kitchen and told the cook about the man's order.  
"Keith, the boys would like their usual, please. I also told Huskers that he could have bacon if he goes to the service. You are going?"  
"Yes, I will be going, and I will make the food now."  
"Okay, be on the lookout for Huskers to arrive. Thanks."  
Macy placed the food bowl onto the countertop and opened the cabinet to remove Cali's dog food. She poured one cup of food into the bowl and shook it around.  
"Let's go see papa."  
Cali followed Macy towards The Old Man's table and sat down and ate the food next to him.  
"You're order will be ready shortly."  
"Can you have Keith deliver it, please?" The Old Man asked.  
"Sure."  
Macy departed from the table to greet the incoming customers. The men waited patiently and sipped at their coffee.  
"I miss our times playing pool at Larry's Hall. It is a shame the place burned down," The Old Man stated.  
"Doesn't surprise me. Larry smoked like there was no tomorrow. Good thing he got out alive," Cody stated.  
"Do you remember Jessica?" The Old Man asked.  
"Flippin' literonicy! I was just thinking of her the other day," Cody exclaimed.  
"Still having literonicies, huh? I thought that they would disappear as we aged," The Old Man stated.  
"Well, according to Murphy's Law..."  
"Ya, I know. I even read in a book that God created divine coincidences. No wonder they are so prevalent," The Old Man stated.  
"Who could forget her? She was the most beautiful girl in all of Signawunder. Sucks that she never asked me out," The Old Man said.  
"The smell of her made me want to propose every time I saw her," Martin said.  
"Why did she marry George? It's not like he was anything special," The Old Man said.  
"Because he was a jock. You know how that goes," Cody said.  
"Ya, and you were too afraid to ask her out due to your fear of being rejected," Martin said.  
"Bah, jocks smocks! If those punks only knew what I went through after high school they wouldn't have been so rude and egotistical," The Old Man said.  
"Let alone, drunk," Martin replied.  
"Ya, I heard that she ran off and was never heard from again. I guess George beat her every night," Cody said.  
"That is very unfortunate to think that she coulda had me as the man of her dreams," The Old Man said.  
The Old Man took a sip of his coffee and burst out into a cold sweat. His hands shook the coffee over the table and his complexion faded to pale.  
"Macy!" Martin exclaimed.  
The commotion startled the customers and Cali who leapt up from the ground and rested her head on The Old Man's left leg. She cried softly as Macy rushed in with a few wet towels. Macy applied the towels to The Old Man's forehead and face to cool him down.  
"It's okay... we are all right here," She calmly stated.  
"Remember, Army strong," Cody said.  
"Army strong," The Old Man nervously replied.  
He laid his head down onto his arms for a moment and caught his breath. His heart was racing and his mind was stirring in frustration. He slowly raised his head and breathed a heavy sigh of relief.  
"These dang tremors and thoughts. I thought they would have ceased by now."  
"You okay, now?" Macy asked.  
"Yes, thank you," The Old Man replied.  
"Will you go out with me, Macy?" The Old Man asked.  
"You know I can't do that."  
"Who has to know?"  
"The Lord will know."  
"You think that He would mind a little down time at my cabin?"  
"Yes, not only that, but Father John would be livid."  
"How 'bout I come over around 6:30 PM tomorrow when the diner is closed? You, me, could be like old times... just the fire going and coffee brewing until midnight. It would be an intimate friendship with none of the nasty nasty."  
"6:30. No later."  
"Okay, I will be there."  
Keith approached the table with the food and placed it in front of the men.  
"So, Keith. When are you going to sell me your Trans Am?" Martin asked.  
"When you trade me for the Chevelle it is yours."  
"Really?"  
"Nope."  
The Old Man and Cody laughed at the sardonic exchange.  
"By the way, you know Macy and you will never work out," Keith said to The Old Man.  
"You couldn't have her then and you can't have her now."  
"Ya, it is worth a shot though, even if it won't go a long way I can still try."  
"Enjoy your food, guys."  
The Old Man and the rest of the gang ate in silence for a while. They enjoyed the medley of extra crispy bacon, crispy hash browns, and over-easy eggs.  
"I wonder why nuns cannot marry or have sex," Martin stated.  
"It is in the law of ethics that a nun must stay in the covenant of Christ until death unless otherwise stated that she is not in a lifetime covenant," The Old Man replied.  
"Macy is so beautiful. Why wouldn't she commit to a man and get it on?" Martin asked.  
"I don't know, why don't you ask her when she returns," Cody said.  
The men laughed and Martin's face turned red with embarrassment. They finished up their meals and got up from the table to leave. As they were about to lay down the money,  
Keith shouted, "It is on the house boys! But, make sure you leave a generous tip, Martin... Macy heard what you said."  
"Ya, Martin..." The Old Man joked.  
The Old Man grabbed Cali's dog food bowl as they were walking to the side exit. He turned around and said, "Macy, are you coming to the service?"  
"No, I go to the 7:00 AM."  
"I will be there," Keith stated.  
The Old Man and the guys walked out of the restaurant and headed for the church. St. Junior's Cathedral was located a block down from Macy's Diner. The sun was intense as it reflected on their reminiscent-talking of the old days. The morning service bell rang loudly atop the church across Signawunder to let the townsfolk know that the service was about to start. The men walked into the large, brass doors, which were equipped with two, sword-wielding cherubim with wings that overarched the doorway. They sat down in the third row of pews. Father Laskovic walked out to start the service. At 11:45 AM the congregation walked out and started their day in the Lord.  
"That was a good sermon today... filled with the Holy Spirit," The Old Man said.  
"Yes, definitely. I liked how he paralleled faith and adventure," Martin replied.  
"Good stuff. Well, I am off to work. See you guys next time. Be blessed," Cody stated.  
"I will see you guys next week," The Old Man said.  
He departed from them as Cali and him walked to the truck to drop off her dog food bowl and then they walked to Josh N' Mark's Market on PB Avenue. As they approached the main entrance, Sally waved hello to him and greeted Cali.  
"Let's get some steak for dinner. I am feeling as though that would hit the spot tonight," The Old Man said.  
He walked to the meat department and spoke with the butcher.  
"I would like two filet mignons, please."  
The butcher strutted to the back of the store with a heavy gait to cut the fresh meat. He came back with a bag that contained the filets.  
"Here you are," the butcher stated.  
The Old Man walked over to the produce section and grabbed a handful of farm-fresh green beans.  
"I reckon that'll do it," he said.  
He walked with Cali to the cash register to pay. As he neared the register he noticed that the girl seemed nervous. Cali started to growl aggressively. When he set the filet mignons down onto the counter with the green beans, a man stood up from underneath the cashier.  
"Do not speak a word or make any subtle movements or else the girl dies," the man said.  
"This is a robbery?" The Old Man questioned.  
"What? Are you deaf and blind?" The robber stated.  
The man leaned across the cash register and pressed the 9mm pistol against The Old Man's forehead.  
"Do you want to die today?" The robber said.  
"If I do, I know where I am going. Do you?"  
The robber was dumbfounded.  
"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" The Old Man suddenly exclaimed.  
The robber was startled and his body's reflex motion lifted the pistol off of The Old Man's forehead slightly. The Old Man grabbed the man's wrist and slammed it against the cash register. He took a pair of scissors from a cup holder which hung on the cash register's light post and stabbed the man's hand. He then took the pistol and pulled back the action, and ejected the magazine from within it. He flung the pistol over his shoulder and it crashed through a glass display of crackers. While keeping his right hand pinning down the robber's arm with the scissors, he removed the scissors and jammed them into the man's forearm. Then, he lifted up the man's arm and broke it over the edge of the countertop.  
"Fuuuuuuuuu-!" The robber passed out and crashed onto the tile floor next to the cashier.  
"And, next time make sure you load the gun before you use it, you jerk!" The Old Man exclaimed.  
"What just happened?!" The cashier exclaimed. "How did you learn that?"  
"It's a long story," The Old Man said as he shakily brought his hand up to his dog tags.  
"I will call the cops," the cashier stated.  
She called the police and then rang up The Old Man's groceries. The police arrived immediately and ran in through the front entrance with guns drawn.  
"Everyone on the ground, now!" Officer Andrew exclaimed.  
"It's okay, Andrew. I have already subdued the subject."  
"What?"  
"He is incapacitated and in need of immediate medical assistance."  
"What did you do?"  
"I simply disarmed him, both literally and figuratively. I also burst an artery in his arm. He will be dead in a few moments unless the paramedics arrive."  
"If you could stay for question—"  
"I have got to run. I would really like to grill my steaks before they rot in this bag."  
"Well, that is not protocol, but I will have Sheriff Karla call you in about an hour."  
"Thank you."  
Cali and The Old Man walked back to the truck and got in to drive back to the cabin. The Old Man started down Main Avenue towards Highway 303. He drove for a few miles and passed by Martin who was pulled over for reckless driving. Martin was waving his hands in the air in a flustered state trying to dispute a ticket. The Old Man soon pulled onto his private drive. Cali thumped her tail excitedly as they came to a stop. The Old Man got out of the truck and opened Cali's passenger door. She leapt to the ground and immediately sprinted after a ground squirrel. The Old Man grabbed his grocery bag and Cali's dog food bowl and walked to the front entrance. As he entered into the cabin Cali followed behind him and begged for food. He poured dog food into her bowl to distract her from the steaks that he was pulling from the bag. He washed the robber's blood from his hands and then placed the steaks onto the counter. He pulled out a fork and set it to the side of the steaks and walked to the seasonings cabinet. He opened it and removed salt, lemon pepper, and garlic powder, and then took out his special marinade from the refrigerator. He marinated the steaks on both sides with a few tablespoons of his sauce and then seasoned them.  
"We'll let these sit for a while, girl," he said.  
He set the steaks in the refrigerator and grabbed his gloves from the side cabinet in the kitchen. He pulled on the yellow and orange-gripped gloves and walked out of the side door towards the shed. He approached the shed door and slid it open. As he walked inside a spider web brushed against his face. I know exactly what you mean, he thought as his buddy Mikhail crossed his mind. He grabbed his garden shears and weed killer from the wall unit.  
"Time to clean up. I have waited long enough. Storm season is arriving fast."  
He walked around the perimeter and sprayed the weeds and cut the bushes around his cabin. He then went to the edges of his property and picked up loose debris and sticks to avoid a potential fire hazard. When he was finished with the yard work it was 6 PM. Cali was asleep on the porch as he walked past her into the entrance. She hurriedly awoke to follow him inside. He walked into the bedroom and showered. When he was drying off and shaving, the phone in the living room rang. He walked to it and answered.  
"Hello?"  
"This is Karla. I would like to talk with you about the incident involving the armed man at the market."  
"Ma'am, I am sorry, but it is an inconvenience to talk right now. I am more than willing to speak with you tomorrow."  
He hung up the phone and walked away. As he entered the kitchen the phone rang again.  
"Why are they so persistent?"  
"Yes?"  
"Hey, how are you? I haven't heard from you today. Is everything alright?"  
"Rob?"  
"Yes."  
"Yes, Rob, things are okay. I apologize. I was working in the yard all afternoon and lost track of time. Not to mention that I was involved in an armed robbery situation."  
"You robbed someone?"  
"No, I disarmed someone. I think he might be dead now, but who cares. Those jerks deserve the vengeance of God."  
"Oh, I see."  
"Would you like to come over? I am about to grill steaks."  
"Sure, I can be there in a half hour."  
"Medium rare?"  
"Yes, please."  
The phone clicked on the other end of the line and The Old Man hung up his phone onto the receiver.  
"Guess who is coming over tonight?"  
Cali looked up at him from busily licking her paw.  
"Rob."  
Cali wagged her tail and resumed working on cleaning out the dirt and fur from the squirrel that she had attacked. The Old Man turned on the kitchen radio to the oldies station, but quickly changed his mind and inserted The Cure's greatest hits album. He cut the green beans and placed them into a pot of water and turned on the heat.  
"I've been looking so long at these pictures of you..."  
He walked out of the patio and turned on the loudspeakers.  
"And, I almost believe that they're real..."  
He turned on the propane on the grill and lit the fire. It is flippin' cold! The Old Man thought.  
He walked down the steps as the barbeque was heating and carried a metal fire pit to the top of the landing.  
"Grab the lighter."  
Cali ran over to the railing and grabbed the electric lighter from it and placed it into The Old Man's palm.  
"Grab kindling."  
Cali retrieved several pieces of wood from the base of the deck and placed them into the fire pit. The Old Man set up the wood into a triangular fashion and lit a fire.  
"Yes! This is awesome!"  
He walked into the cabin and grabbed the steaks. As he turned around to walk out of the kitchen, Cali started to bark as Rob pulled up into the driveway in his '72 Ford Mustang. As Rob exited his vehicle The Old Man stated, "Still got old red, huh?"  
"Ya, she runs like a steer in a herd. Fast, but jumpy if I am not careful. How are you doing?" Rob questioned The Old Man as he noticed him rubbing his dog tags.  
"Fair to Midland," The Old Man said as he averted his eyes towards the grill.  
"Smells good. Do you need any help in preparing the meal?"  
"No, I am okay. You are free to grab a shot of Jack Dag if you want."  
"Alrighty man."  
Rob walked inside to the bar which sat snugly against the stairwell. He opened the whiskey and removed the elk shot glasses.  
"You still have these?" Rob asked as The Old Man entered with the steaks steaming.  
"Ya, I kept them for nostalgia."  
"I figured. Stacy gave these to you during your tenth anniversary, right?"  
"Yes, sir."  
The Old Man put the platter of steaks down hard onto the table and the steaks almost slid off of the edge. Cali ran over to the tableside and waited for one of the steaks to fall off. She licked her lips vigorously.  
"Get out of here! You know better than that!" The Old Man shouted as he pushed her aside with his foot as she jumped up onto the table's edge.  
"Go lay down!"  
"Is everything okay?" Rob asked.  
"No, it really is not, actually."  
"Let's eat and you can talk about it if you want after dinner."  
The Old Man heavily sighed as his cheeks puffed out. Rob walked over to the china cabinet and removed two silver plates.  
"Are those plates the ones that Stacy gave me?"  
"Yes, they are."  
"Why would you grab them without my consent? You know that I leave them up there."  
"Let's sit down and discuss some things. I know that you are bothered by Stacy, specifically, and the war must flow in and out of your mind constantly."  
"It does every second of my waking hours."  
"Then, talk about it. It will be therapeutic."  
"I guess. I might as well while in the company of a therapist."  
"Not only that, but I am your trusted friend."  
Rob sat the plates down onto the dining room table. The Old Man grabbed the green beans and drained them. He placed them onto the table next to the steaks. Rob walked to the bar and poured the whiskey. He sat down at the table across from The Old Man and spoke grace over the food.  
"Heavenly Father, we thank you for your provisions of this food and always providing comfort for us in the midst of trials and adversity. I ask that you would bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies and protect our family and friends tonight as they go about their business. In Jesus' name we pray. Amen."  
"Amen."  
They ate the meal in silence for a while and Rob stated, "Do you understand why I got out the shot glasses and china?"  
The Old Man pondered Rob's words for a moment and swallowed a bite of the filet mignon,  
"You thought that it would be beneficial to my healing over the divorce."  
"Yes, if you come to terms and embrace the circumstances, then it makes your life stable."  
"It does seem to help. I am starting to reflect on the times we had together eating off of the plates and drinking shots into the night during celebratory times."  
"That is exactly what is supposed to happen... a departure from the hatred and suppressed feelings to an enclosure of peace of the good memories."  
After a few more bites of steak The Old Man smiled, "Much better."  
"See? It feels good."  
They finished eating and placed the dishes into the sink to soak. The Old Man walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a cola. He turned around towards Rob and opened the can.  
"Alright, I will talk about it."  
"Are you comfortable with it?"  
"Yes, as long as I sit down in my chair."  
"Let's get the fireplace going."  
"Okay."  
"You sit down and ponder your thoughts to get them arranged and I will light the fire. Thanks for dinner."  
Rob walked over to the corner of the living room and grabbed three choice logs from the pile. He pulled back the metal draw-curtain which hung from the mantle of the 20 foot fireplace. The fireplace billowed over the men who stood two stories below. It consisted of a one-third layer of river rock and two-thirds layer of volcanic rock which spilled outwards from the top of the fireplace. A lone deer head slung in the middle of the fireplace was staring blindly across the room. Its antlers sprawled outwards and overlapped a shadow across The Old Man's hunting rifle. Rob placed the logs down into the agape mouth of the pit. A blinding flash emitted across the cavernous room as Rob stood up from looming inside of the pit. He was startled by the sonic boom which shook the chandelier and rattled the deer antlers and he struck his head on the edge of the fireplace.  
"Ow! Frick!"  
"The thunder is asunder as it splits your head for its plunder!" The Old Man heckled Rob as he rubbed the knot on his skull.  
"Ha, ha. Funny. This is a serious storm that we are having. The advisory stated that flash floods can occur so keep Cali inside unless you would like her to be river bait for the trout."  
"She ain't going anywhere."  
Cali sauntered over to Rob's lap seeking for his attention and consoling him for his injury. She lay down onto a bear rug which outstretched between the men in an eavesdropping-like manner as they started to talk.  
"Where did you get that rug?"  
"She has laid on it ever since I shipped it over from Germany. She was immediately attracted to its briskly nature when the movers brought it in. After she realized that it had my scent on it, you will never see her anywhere else when I am in my chair here."  
The Old Man smiled at Cali and said, "I love you, girl, but you know better than to behave that way."  
Cali thumped her tail briefly as she closed her eyes to sleep. Rob sat opposite to The Old Man and listened as he spoke about his life.  
"It all started when I graduated from high school. I married Stacy soon afterwards and we had our first son. There were many complications during our marriage most of which were resultant of my heavy alcoholism. The most distressing was when we heard the news."  
"It was 9:00 PM exactly as I rushed her to the hospital. Her face was sopping wet with sweat and the tension in her face pained my soul. I thought, there is no way in hell that I am going to lose her. Not over my ignorance and deceit and especially not to this devil within her. I wheeled her inside of the emergency room and I felt the floor drop from contact with my feet. My heart sunk and my face turned pale as I scanned the room. It was packed. I couldn't even believe the amount of emergencies which were happening at the same time. I even felt envious that they were to be serviced first and my wife wouldn't be. However, little did I know that a terrorist from Zimbabwe had blown up the rail yard during the 6:00 night shift. I freaked out and I lost sight of reality, I guess, because I was led by the Holy Spirit to run through the double doors with her. I picked her up into my arms and I could feel her blood turning cold. I ran into the room inside of the doorway and placed her onto the surgery table.  
'You need to operate on my wife immediately!' I screamed at the doctor as her life was fading from her body.  
'What is going on with her?' He said.  
'I do not know. She has been complaining of abdominal pains for the past several days. The pains heightened tonight and I found her face down on the living room floor. I tried to ask her what was going on, but she was nonresponsive so I took her here.'  
'You must help her.'  
'I have over 30 patients that are in critical condition and I am understaffed. I am sorry, but you will have to wait like everyone else.'  
I told the doctor that I was a field medic in the Army a few years prior and I still maintained my license. I told him that if he helped me with my wife that I would dedicate the remainder of my time and operate on the rest of the victims with him.  
'Act on faith and not your own understanding. God will get us through this no matter how many hours or days this takes.'  
It took three days to operate on everyone in that hospital. My wife survived the operation of removing her atrophied and cancerous ovaries and she was told that she had only a few more months to live."  
"After a year into our marriage I was recalled back to the frontlines in Germany. I was terrified for my wife's wellbeing as I shipped back to the 82nd Airborne Division. Thankfully, she made a full recovery and did not relapse. However, she up and left me for Jody."  
"My division was stationed in Germany for the remainder of the war."  
The Old Man continued to speak about his experience as the night faded slowly with the intermixing of lightning and thunder from the heavy rains. Rob was feeling heavy already and The Old Man had just started his recount. Rob thought to himself, no wonder he has felt this way his entire life. He has had terrible tribulations and trials, but thank God for His wisdom towards the guy, because without it this man would surely be dead. I have dealt with many patients over the years and this is the moldy icing on the cake. The hours passed by with every daunting account that was given by The Old Man... every detail seemed to flow brilliantly with the man's raspy voice and hardened demeanor. Every now and then Rob would notice The Old Man look away briefly as if to cough, but he saw that he was wincing and scrunching his face while the images flowed through his mind like a deadly cancer. He also took note of The Old Man's positioning in the chair. His posture was slightly bent forwards and his body looked tense with pain. He saw The Old Man grab his dog tags and rub them vigorously when he mentioned the killing that he had to perform on the Nazi soldiers. Every word and heavy breath that The Old Man expressed was panging inside of Rob... he could feel the grip of the gun or the tightness of fingers around another man's neck. He could see the terror in the soldiers' eyes as they took their last breaths and their bodies became cold and lifeless. Did these things happen? Rob thought. This is so intense!

Chapter 2: The Rotting   
"When I arrived in Germany there was an overwhelming resistance of Nazi soldiers who had the town of Nuremburg under siege. 14 squadrons of the armored division and 82nd infantry cut the Germans off to retake the town and save the people from death and persecution."  
"When my men and I deployed out of the back of a C-130, we jumped out 15 clicks behind Nuremburg enemy lines. My men and I landed in a hay field in the dead-cold of night. We spent the night burrowed into the cozy hay stacks for warmth. And, let me tell you that was the warmest place I have ever slept. It felt so good. We woke up at 0400 hours and loaded our gear packs up to head into the town."  
"We encountered heavy opposition on the way to meet Charlie Company. I must have killed over 200 Germans before dawn. The foggy air thickened with a blood mist. I could taste it in my mouth and my uniform and everything on me was soaked in the blood. About ¼ of a mile from the town were fifteen "death holes" that my men and I solemnly passed by. Not one of us spoke a word as we looked in horror at the mangled mess of the bodies of men, women, children, and the elderly. They were just piled up like rocks—rigor-mortified rocks. Goes to show you how dedicated those freaks were in carrying out their ruthless slaughter missions. We met up with Charlie Company at 0815 hours in a thick tree line which outlined the town on a hillside."  
"I could see the Germans loading truckload after truckload with bodies. When I looked closer I noticed that the bodies were not German soldiers. They were the townspeople who were getting slaughtered upon our arrival. I noticed at the opposite side of the town there were five trucks and two tanks sitting on the hillside—not idling, just sitting there with the engines off. There was also what seemed like an infinite array of tents aligned around the entirety of the town below us. I told my men to hold their fire until the artillery strikes engaged the trucks and tanks. Before I relayed my call for the strike I saw several uniformed officers walking together down the main street. Alongside of them were three soldiers carrying MP40s and two squadrons of infantry following in formation behind them."  
The Old Man paused for a second to warm his hands in the fire and take a sip of the morning coffee which sat beside his chair leg.  
"I called over my best snipers to my side and said, 'You do not miss one shot... no matter the cost—your life is important, but the lives of these people and the eventual freedom from the tyranny of Hitler resides in your hands and with your triggers.' My men agreed as I instructed them to shoot all of the officers. The men decided who they wanted to kill. One guy said, 'I'll take the fat one. He just has that classic bully-look to him.' Another soldier stated, 'Yeah, and I'll take his girlfriend out. This punk has hair longer than the plane ride over here.' My men decided who they wanted as I instructed the rest of my men when to take charge down the hillside to overthrow the infantry."  
"I asked the Charlie Company commander to flank the Germans at the rear of the town where the German tanks and trucks were so that we could take advantage of the distraction. As Charlie Company rerouted towards the flank, I called in the strike. The thirty seconds that it took for the shells to strike the tanks and trucks seemed like half an hour as I looked in fear at Charlie maneuvering into position. I figured that someone would spot us. As soon as Charlie Company got into position the artillery struck down hard."  
"The shockwave from the explosions blew dust and debris off of the top of the buildings. My snipers immediately took action. One of the officers was trying to run towards the back of the town and escape in an oncoming truck. As he leapt into the air to grab the passenger's door handle, two of my men shot him. One of the bullets took off his hand and the other ripped down his chest as the truck toppled over his body. I heard one of my snipers yell, 'I lost sight of him in the building!' I picked up my M-14 and dismantled it. I then put a grenade on it and aimed high. I fired at the building that the officer was cowering in and blew out the sidewall. The officer fell flat against the ground and my man took the shot and blew his head open across the building. I saw a couple of German sniper soldiers running up the top of the stairway inside of a church trying to get an advantage point. I told my sniper to hand me his rifle. He tossed it to me and I pulled the sling over my back. I adjusted the scope for 450 yards and made sure my eye relief was decent. I went prone overtop of a flat rock and followed the German until he reached an angle where both he and I were level. As he was placing his gun on the edge of the wall I slowly squeezed the trigger."  
"When I fired, his body reeled backwards and he struck himself against the church bell. I fired a follow up shot into his right leg and he fell sideways over the wall. His body toppled downwards like a kite with no updraft and he landed onto the pavement below as a Tiger tank consumed his body with its tracks. I commanded my men to charge the Germans as Charlie Company was coming up the rear. All that I recall after that is minimal. I remember an artillery shell falling from the skyline and exploding in front of me. I blacked out after that due to the concussive force and the shrapnel which tore at my face. The Germans took me and several hundred Jewish and Czechoslovakian's captive into the Black Forest."
Chapter 3: A Brazen Interrogation  
The Old Man awakened to a stinging pain in his wrists and could feel that his face was swollen. He looked up at a German soldier who was glaring at him with stale, steel-hard eyes. The German struck him across the face and shouted, "Where is your company commander and what are you doing in Germany?"  
"Name, rank, and serial number is all that I can tell you."  
The German struck him with his baton across the left side of his rib cage and back across the right side while deliberately scraping it against The Old Man's abdomen. The Old Man doubled over in pain. As he buckled over he could feel that the rope which was tied around his wrists was loose and not taut. The German reached his arm into the air to strike The Old Man across the jaw, but suddenly there was a crashing sound next to him. The Army sniper leaned his chair back and fell to the floor. The German went over to pick him up. The Old Man shook his arms and freed his wrists. He sat patiently for the German to return and brutalize him. The German lifted the sniper back to an upright position and walked past The Old Man. He turned to the side and grabbed a knife from the table which was situated between The Old Man and the sniper. He walked over to the sniper and raised the knife to his throat.  
"Kill the son of a—."  
The soldier was quickly silenced as his blood burst from within his arteries onto the German's face and uniform. The sniper slumped lifelessly in the chair and his blood dripped onto the floor over the edges of the chair. The German walked briskly to where The Old Man was and lifted up his shirt off of his chest. He wiped the blood of The Old Man's comrade off of his face.  
"Now, tell me what is the United States Army doing interfering with our business?"  
He swung at The Old Man, but his arm was quickly countered by The Old Man's strong grip. He stood up from the chair and broke the German's arm over the back of it. He then kicked the German's feet out and pushed him to the ground. He picked up the chair and pressed it into the German's face snapping his neck onto the floor with the end of the chair leg.
Chapter 4: The Old Gray

The Old Man gave off a sustained serenity through his wise years and walked carefully across the room. His presence and attitude were discernible from the brutality that he had delivered to the German that was interrogating him. He knew that if he died today that the finality of his warrior-inscribed path would not be over with, but could start anew in the afterworld. The man traversed successfully around the tables and chairs and reached for the door that he bumped into with his steel-toed, Army issued and black boots. As he opened the creaking, rusty-smelling door ever so slightly, the brush of the warm air against his face startled him and he flinched out of excitement which started to contract his muscles causing him to shiver. After realizing that the feeling was from the air that was rushing in from the breezeway, he resorted to situational awareness mode and listened intently with his long, droopy ears, which were equipped with a forest of cilia. He heard only the sound of a dripping faucet and the scurrying of rats. He reached down towards his hip and pulled out his Walther PPK. Next, he readied a sleek, black silencer that he pulled from his slide-zipper cargo compartment which was situated inside of his left breast jacket pocket that faintly read "U.S. Army". He tightened the silencer onto the pistol and reached into his right breast jacket pocket for his dog tags. He felt the AR number to give him his "Army Strong" impact that he needed for his final campaign and last tour. He read the AR number inscribed on one of the tags with his calloused, garrote-gripping fingers: 76375021. Carefully, he slowly pulled back the action of the pistol to release any spent casings from earlier- a habit because his memory was not as spry as it used to be when before the concussion. He then maintained composure and slid a 15- round magazine into the base of the leather-gripped pistol and proceeded through the door by shuffling his feet step by step. As he closed the door with the brass handle kept tightly closed to the right to avoid the disastrous, "door click", he stopped suddenly as a light was shone into his peripheral vision. Indistinct voices were heard in the distance to his left which reverberated along the moldy hallway walls. He could make out a few words that the people were shouting,

"Stop! Sie werden auf sicht ausgeführt werden wenn sie näher zu bewegen!"

"Stop! You will be executed on sight if you move any closer!"

The Old Man abruptly held to his position as the troupe closed in cautiously as they knew what he was capable of doing despite his disposition and "limitation" at the time. As the German infantry inched in The Old Man effortlessly stuck his gun into his rear pant leg and let it slide down towards the door situated behind his right foot. The light passed from the man's eyes briefly as one guard asked the other for a cigarette.

"Zigarette?"

"Nein!"

In that brief exchange of conversation and the recruits' faltering of concentration, the man wiggled the gun out of his pants and hurriedly slid it underneath the door with his right foot. The Germans saw him move and aggressively questioned what he was doing.

"I was scratching my ankle. It is swollen from my sweaty socks."

"Nein!" Exclaimed one of the officers.

As the officer approached the man to apprehend him as a prisoner of war the man reached his hands slowly in the air, not too abruptly as to cause a panicked response, but just enough to attack. The officer stood in front of the man and reached for his handcuffs. The Old Man heard the jangling of the keys and chains, and as he continued to lift his hands into the air he swiftly grappled the officer under the arms and threw him forwards. The force of the officer's impacting into the door caused his hands to slip from the handcuffs, and his body hurdled through the door and busted it off of its hinges. As The Old Man stepped through the doorway he slid the pistol to the right of the officer and slammed his neck down onto the edge of a chair breaking both the chair and the officer's neck which killed the officer instantaneously. Hurriedly, The Old Man grabbed his pistol and the officer's baton and lied in wait for the other infantryman to enter. The German infantry, who were in the midst of a heated debate regarding who would get the next pack of Camels, which lie in a confiscatory drawer of the commanding officer who laid dead on the ground, heard the commotion from the end of the hallway.

"Officier Probst?!" They exclaimed.

They advanced cautiously towards the rubble on the ground and asked again,

"Officier Probst?"

Inside of the room, The Old Man sneaked to the left of the doorway and hid himself alongside an armoire with the deceased officer's bloodied baton in hand and pistol loaded. He closed his eyes briefly in a depressed state of mind and sighed gently as one of the infantryman rushed to the side of the officer's body. Quickly following behind him was the other infantryman who stood at the feet of the dead officer. The Old Man took advantage of their subtle, rookie mistakes and quickly advanced behind the soldier who was at the feet of the officer. He swiped the baton across the small of the soldier's back who groaned loudly as he doubled over in pain. Surprised, the second soldier stepped back and The Old Man kicked the soldier against a table and he collapsed to the ground. In another action, The Old Man uppercut the first soldier across the jaw as he tried to get back up from the ground and smashed his face into his knee. The Old Man bent down and took the weapons and keys from the soldiers. He bent down to the ground and found a sharp-edged chair leg. He walked briskly to where the two infantryman were lying unconscious and one by one he killed both of them. For the first soldier, he lifted up the man's head and lodged the chair leg through his neck. As he withdrew the chair leg he felt a hand grip onto his left foot. The second infantryman who he had upper cut had regained consciousness and was trying to take The Old Man into custody. As The Old Man struggled to loosen his leg he reached for the officer's baton and turned over onto his back. The soldier let go of the man's leg and reached for his rifle which hung on a sling around his neck. The Old Man heard the rifle cocking back and he lurched forwards into the German and tackled him to the ground. As they fell backwards on top of one another the German's shoulder became separated when a nail pierced into it as he landed on the ground. The German screamed in pain, but The Old Man put his left hand on the soldier's mouth to stifle the sound. The Old Man raised his right arm above his body and swung the baton repeatedly into the soldier's skull. He could feel the soldier's body squirming as each blow was struck and he heard the soldier frantically gasping for air through his raging and flaring nostrils. After five hard blows to the head of the soldier The Old Man felt the man's blood oozing onto his left hand as it was brought up from the man's lungs during his last breath. The Old Man got up and signed the cross over his chest and continued onwards.

Chapter 5: A Hurried Escape

After a startling encounter with opposition The Old Man proceeded into a bathroom which was situated opposite to the bodies of the German officer and infantryman. The Old Man, shaking with adrenaline, walked towards the bathroom and proceeded to open the creaking door. Very cautiously he opened it inch by inch with the baton situated on his right hip and pistol in hand waiting for any reply or startled response from any enemy that could be lingering within it. There was not any movement heard within the bathroom so The Old Man walked into the dim and moonlit room. His eyes had not adjusted to the dark and would not adjust so he shuffled his feet and put out his hands and felt for anything within reach. His hands touched a smooth and moist surface at his waist height. He mumbled something and wiped his hands off onto his dirtied and bloodied pants. He realized that what he was touching was the sink. He dipped his hand down the surface of the sink and inched his fingers across it searching for the ringed drain entrance. He found it moments later and removed the keys that were in the officer's and infantryman's possession out from within his left pocket. As he reached to drop the keys down the drain he gasped in pain as he sliced his thumb at the knuckle on the rusty faucet. With dumb luck and what he wanted to accomplish in the beginning the keys fell down the drain. Quickly, he fumbled along the edge of the counter top with his hands and found one sheet of loose, wet toilet paper hanging from a misshapen toilet paper holder. He placed the wet paper over his knuckle and applied firm pressure all the while carefully molding it around his cut. As he turned around to walk out of the bathroom his feet bumped into the base of a fake tree. The rustling and crashing of the tree onto the tile floor startled him and in an instinctual reaction he withdrew his pistol and aimed in the direction of the sound.

"Who's there?" He aggressively snarled in a raspy voice.

There was no reply, but he kept the pistol aimed in that direction. In another combat-instinctual reaction he holstered the pistol and thrusting forwards swung the baton in that direction. As his arm came down, the tip of the baton hit a flat surface, and being that it was dark The Old Man swung even harder in succession thinking that what he was striking was another German patrolman. As he listened to his arm striking the surface of not a head, but a bashed and crumbling wall, he reassessed the situation, put the baton into his back pocket and turned to his left to walk out of the door. Suddenly, an idea occurred to him so he turned back into the bathroom and bent down to pick up the tree which lay prostrate on the floor. He carried it and set it outside of the door to the left of the door frame. He stopped after placing the tree down and listened intently for any movement or voices from the hallway. He did not hear anything so he positioned his body in a catty-cornered manner and tread as lightly as he could on his boots. When he bumped into the bodies of the dead Germans, his feet touched the sticky floor, and one by one he picked up the Germans and crammed them into the armoire. With his burly, kill-tally tattooed arms, he powerfully and abruptly slammed the cabinet doors against the bodies, crushing bones and tearing ligaments as he stuffed them into it. He did not have a care in the world, because his mission was not accomplished and he was anxious for his final tour of duty in Germany during World War II to come to an end. Now that the bodies were disposed of he attended to a more pressing matter. It is the highest priority for a soldier concerning combat in enemy territory, especially in a prisoner of war camp. He reminded himself that he was going to need to cover his tracks at all costs, at all times, and die before giving up any information on American militaristic operations and personnel. As he resumed business, he walked over to the tree, picked it up with his now blood-coagulated hands, and placed it next to the table where the Germans once laid. Again, he listened for anybody near the vicinity. He did not hear anything. He pushed the table along the tattered wood floor as a blood-matted bear rug ruffled out from underneath it. As efficiently as a woodworker can measure and cut a piece of wood to exact length and nail it into its place on a mantle, the man pulled the rug backwards, folded it in half, and brushed every piece of broken furniture and the earlier door frame shards from the area of his kills using the fake tree as a broom. After he had brushed all of the pieces he used his foot to spread out all of the gathered mess and rolled the rug back into its place on top of it. He walked hurriedly around to the other side of table and applied firm, downward pressure to push it forwards along the rug to cover up the wood fragments, bolts and nails, and the blood stains from the Germans.
Chapter 6: The Cells

After The Old Man finished tidying up in the office he walked out of the door and proceeded to the left as he was doing before he got interrupted. As he walked along the hallway he listened for any footsteps or voices. The recessed, metallic-harbored lights flickered ominously against his body, and the distant screaming of tortured prisoners gave him the chills, as he was one for five years. He walked for 120 paces when all of a sudden his right shin struck the pale, navy blue railing of an upstairs platform. He held fast to his position and withdrew his pistol as the metal vibrated and rang out with an incessant clatter among the spacious room in which he stood. When he felt confident that no one heard the noise he cautiously placed the pistol back into the holster and left it unlatched. Meanwhile, opposite from the platform on which The Old Man stood were ten, eight foot by twelve foot prisoner cells, and the same sized cell units were found underneath the platform. The Old Man decided that it was time to proceed onwards with his mission and final calling from the Lord. He rubbed his shin to feel for any bump or bruise on his weathered skin, and rested his left, arthritis-ridden hand upon the paint-peeling railing. He slid his hand across it, shuffled his feet forwards, and kept his right hand stationary against the cold, leather-gripped pistol. When the railing suddenly descended downwards to the left on a flight of diamond-corrugated stairs he followed it and carefully placed his foot onto the stairwell, not too abruptly as to end up with a metallic-resounding again, but with just enough pressure to avoid the noise which would have resulted from such forceful footing. After his feet were firmly situated, he overheard the commotion of an agitated German Private infantryman and the distressed voices of Czechoslovakian and Jewish prisoners of war.

"Nein, sie werden nicht erhalten keine rationen von mir wie sie das Reich beleidigt haben!"

"No, you will not be receiving any rations from me. You have offended the Reich!"

The German aggressively pushed down the Czechoslovakian man causing him to fall backwards and strike his head on the sink, and then subsequently the jagged metal bed board. The Czech laid there and bled profusely from his skull as the Private laughed maniacally. Three other German officers chimed in and the Private slammed the cell door with such force due to his adrenaline rush that a screw came loose, which resulted in the damage to the door and a bent hinge. After the door was slammed it immediately rebounded and struck the Private in the jaw causing him to fall backwards and become rendered unconscious. The officers looked on at the resulting incident and laughed even more hysterically. After they caught their breath the Commanding Officer went over to the medicine cabinet that was situated to the right of a wash basin and removed from it a package of smelling salts. He cracked open one of the small, translucent vials and placed it in front of the Private's nose. The Private was awakened and the officer immediately instructed him to go to the wash basin, cleanse his hands, and then fix the door and bloody mess that lay in front of it. The Private stood up at attention and the officer saluted him to put him at ease. The officer sat down at a long, oak table that was situated in the center of the Cell Block C, Room 35B PHU (Prisoner's Holding Unit). He picked up a folded newspaper entitled, The Daily Reich, and skimmed the headlines which read, Hitler's Advances on Poland Seem Promising, But His Moral Does Not. On the front page there was a picture of Hitler commanding his troops at a conference in Munich. The German officer became uncomfortable as he sat in the pine chair, so he loosened his belt, which was equipped with a Luger pistol and diamond-encrusted magazine, and rested it onto the table next to his steaming, twenty-two ounce thermos of Colombian imported coffee. The Private, who was now washing the blood off of his hands, took paper towels and cleaned up the wash basin. He then walked four steps to the right of the wash basin and opened a heavy, electronically-locked, steel door which was inscribed with the words,

Waffen und Zubehör Locker

Weapons and Supplies Locker  
The Old Man who was still positioned and keenly listening to the commotion downstairs, waited for the weapons locker's door lock to engage. Five, four, three, two, one. Screech, click, clang, bang. The door adjusted and closed with a deafening roar that resounded throughout the expanse of the PHU. The Commanding Officer who sat at the table jumped in excitement as he was startled by the noise and glanced up at the door, because he had never been stationed in that part of the prison before. When he realized that the door had made the sound he scanned the room with his pale gray eyes. He felt contradiction as he retained a fair and peaceable expression on his face, but within his soul he felt otherwise. His mind and soul stirred in agitation as he contemplated suicide. He thought that he would execute the prisoners while the Private held fast in the locker and then shoot himself in front of the other officers in his favorite, yet discomforting chair. As soon as he had dismissed the thought from Satan, he was startled again, this time by the static blaring of the radio which emitted a long beeping noise, followed by the chirping of a siren which was situated on the ceiling above him and the other officers. All three of the men were concerned and stared at each other intently trying to evoke the first words of response to the distress call. The Company Commander regained his composure, stood up out from his chair and promptly following him were the other Lieutenants who stood at attention awaiting his orders. He saluted them to put them at ease, and instructed them to address the distress call, load up their MP-40s, and proceed to Gate B6 immediately. He said that he would meet up with them there in half an hour after supervising the cleaning duties which were assigned to the Private.

"Ja, commandant!" They replied in unison.

The officer saluted them and watched as they walked away and he sat back down to read the newspaper and wait for the Private to finish his duties. As The Old Man listened to the Lieutenants' receding footsteps he gracefully proceeded down the stairwell like a cat readying to pounce on a mouse and stealthily withdrew his pistol from the holster upon reaching the base of the stairs. His pistol was equipped with a slide-lock mechanism which enabled the pullback of the action without noise, so he quickly pulled it back and aimed at the officer as he approached him. The officer was unaware of The Old Man's presence due to the fact that his newspaper enveloped his peripheral vision. Just before The Old Man came to where the officer was he stopped suddenly as the officer turned a page on the newspaper. The Old Man waited in place in case the officer spotted him, but the officer still was unaware of The Old Man's presence. The Old Man walked a few more feet and he gently reached for the officer's Luger belt. He cautiously picked up the belt and positioned his right knee against the back of the pine chair where the officer sat, and wrapped the belt around the officer's neck. The officer panicked and instinctively, but erroneously reached for his waistline expecting his Luger to be there. The Old Man wrapped the belt tighter around his left forearm and looped it through the back of the design in the chair. He grabbed the Luger from the officer's belt and lashed the end of it on top of the officer's skull repeatedly until he was fell limp. With efficiency and prose, The Old Man unwrapped the belt from around the officer's neck and chest and placed it back on the table in its exact position. Then, he jarred open the officer's mouth and positioned his head in a downward position to the right in correlation with the floorboards as if to resemble a sleeping state of being. The Old Man folded the newspaper into fourths in order to double up the thickness and laid it on the officer's lap which was now urine stained. He felt a tingling sensation in his face as a pair of astonished, Jewish, black eyes peered at him from the prisoner cells. He looked at the Jewish prisoner, thrust the Luger underneath the oak table to him, and instructed him what to do. The Old Man hurriedly advanced in retreat underneath the shadowed well of the stairs. A few moments later, the electronic door lock was disengaging and the Private stepped out while whistling the German Army's battle song, Das Reich Wird Leben, The Reich Will Live. As he walked out with an opaque cart filled with bleach and a loosened and torn mop, he stopped and looked in curiosity at the officer's current nature. He thought to himself that the officer's insomnia must have knocked him out, because he was stationed at Gate A9 for over 46 hours defending the camp while on watch. The Private's thoughts were interrupted as he was startled by the Jewish prisoner abruptly shouting, "Hey, you Nazi pig! Over here!" The Private looked at the prisoner in amazement while the reflection of the Luger shone off of the walls and was aimed at his face. The Private went to load his MP40, but all that he saw on his gun was his blood which was spurting from his heart. As soon as the Jewish prisoner had gotten the attention of the Nazi, The Old Man took the opportunity to shoot him. The Private dropped to his knees and choked on his blood which spurted out onto the oak table and the floor. The Old Man rushed over to the Private, embraced the soldier as if to hug him, and snapped his neck with such force that his spine pierced through the back of his neck. The Old Man thanked the Jewish prisoner for his help and assured him that he would help the prisoner and his comrades escape.
Chapter 7: A Messy Job

The Old Man had finished speaking with the Jewish prisoner. The prisoner mentioned to him the times that the officers came in to check on the prisoners. The Jew said that he came to realize the time due to the signature of the sun and the angling of the shadows that were cast by the objects in the PHU. The Old Man knew that he had approximately twenty minutes to clean up the place before the current shift was relieved from duty. He formulated in his mind what he would do first. He walked over to the unconscious officer and scrambled through his jacket. Inside of the jacket he found a crumpled piece of paper.

"Does this have any writing on it?" He asked the Jewish prisoner as he held up the paper in the air.

"No." The Jew said.

"Where can I find a pen?" The Old Man asked.

"There is one over there to the left of the wash basin." The Jew replied.

The Old Man walked over to the left of the wash basin and snapped a pen from its place on the prisoner checklist clipboard. In a deep struggle, yet persevering one through the discernment of the Holy Spirit, he recalled the German that he had learned in his communications job back at the Presidio in Monterrey, California.

He wrote on the note, "Der private und ich ging für ein kleines gespräch in felder. I für die unannehmlichkeiten nicht in der lage, um es in der not anruf zu entschuldigen. Ich werde berichten 2 stunden."

"The private and I went out for a little "talk" in fields. I apologize for the inconvenience of not being able to make it to the distress call. I will report back in two hours."

The Old Man placed the note next to the coffee and emptied part of the thermos down the wash basin to simulate that it had been drunk by the officer and not still full as was when he was reading the newspaper. The Old Man rushed over to the Private and reached for the locker key that was on the ground next to his body. He walked over to the locker and put the key into the lock. After two clockwise turns the weapons locker opened up. As The Old Man walked through the doorway his right foot got caught on the metal legging of a wire shelving unit. As he tried to catch his balance he slipped forwards and struck his shoulder on the edge of a rounded basin. He reached to prop himself up on the basin and as he was doing so his hand slipped inside of it and landed in bleach. He pushed himself up off of the ground and got onto his hands and knees. While he was on the ground he measured the height, depth, and width of the bleach basin with his hands. According to his speculation he approximated the measurements to be three feet deep by six feet long by three feet wide. He arose to his feet, since there was no time to cry about falling, and walked out of the weapons locker. When he was just outside of the locker he reached down and picked up the Private by his legs. The legs of the Private were sopped in urine and he grimaced in disgust as he dragged the Private into the locker. After placing the Private by the bleach basin he stepped over the Private and walked over to the oak table to retrieve the "slumbering" body of the Commanding Officer. He stepped behind the pine chair and pulled it out from underneath the table. Once the chair was removed he walked around the chair and hoisted the officer's body over the top of his shoulders. He trudged along and walked into the weapons locker once again. He sat down the officer and lifted the infantryman up and over the edge of the bleach basin. The Private's body was contorted so he straightened out the man's legs and sunk the body into the bleach. After the Private's body was immersed under the surface of the bleach The Old Man reached down to pick up the officer's body. He lifted the man up and toppled him onto of the Private's body. The body thudded into the bleach and as it did a six-gallon jug of bleach fell from the ground-level shelf of the wire shelving unit. The Old Man felt the jug of bleach roll against his ankle and he turned around to stop it from rolling over the top of his leg. He bent over and picked up the jug and loosened the cap and then set it down alongside the basin. He double checked the positioning of the bodies and picked up the jug of bleach. As he poured the bleach into the basin to cover up the bodies, bubbles of oxygen emitted from the officer's mouth until there were tiny bubbles, and then none at all. He checked the officer's pulse for a few moments to make sure of his drowning and laughed at the sarcastic thought that perhaps that will cleanse the officer's soul – an infusion of bleach. His next plan of action was to clean up the blood stains from the Czechoslovakian and German infantryman's injuries. He walked outside of the locker and swept the room and cleaned it with the unsteady mop, but had no time to fix the door. As he was putting the cleaning cart back into the weapons locker he thought that he should add something to the note. He walked out of the locker and headed to where the note was. He added to the note that the Private would be back after the talk with the officer to fix the door. Just then, The Old Man heard the bloodied Czech convulsing for air and he ran to the medicine cabinet and grabbed the bandages. When he hobbled into the prison cell he struck his leg on the prison cell door. He limped towards the Czech and gently felt the man's neck and spine for any deformities which might lead to further injury, death, or cause him to become paralyzed. Upon assessing the Czech he scooped him up under his arms and walked to lay him down on the bed. Once he laid the body down he tightly wrapped the bandaging around the Czech's head and propped it up on a pillow. He said a short prayer to God to save this man's life so that he can have a prosperous living after escaping with the other prisoners. He signed the cross over the body as the Czech laid immobilized, and in shock, and he left the cell. He went back to the medicine cabinet, because bandaging up the man made him realize that he too needed a bandage on his wounded thumb. He went to the cabinet and grabbed a tetanus shot and injected himself with it. Afterward, he reapplied a fresh bandage and proceeded west out of the double doors that the Lieutenants had departed from earlier.
Chapter 8: A Clean Surveillance  
As The Old Man exited the heavy steel doors he felt deepness about his situation. He tried to gather his composure, but it was overpowering him. He leaned against a wall to his right, bowed his head in despair, and prayed to God for the diligence and understanding for what was happening to him. He knew that it was his job to prevail in the war and save himself and the prisoners trapped in the God-forsaken hell hole, but he became depressed and hardened emotionally. He knew that if death were to result out of his combat and killing of the Nazis that he would be safe in the arms of God, armored in the spirit, and lifted to the realm of Heaven, but after years of warfare he felt unworthy to live any longer. God spoke to him through the Spirit:

"Son, you have many steps to go, but I am leading you all of the way. You realize that I have been with you every day of your life, and knew you before you were born – trust in that promise, keep the faith, and I will lead you to perseverance, give you the strength, and more importantly, I love you."

After listening to what God spoke to him, tears welled up in The Old Man's eyes and he stood back up and pushed his right hand against the wall for support. He was on a surveillance mission to understand the layout of the camp and determine the best method of escaping with the prisoners. He sensed in the Spirit that the hallway was very long. It was over a quarter of a mile long. It smelled of a horrid mixture of rotten garbage, stale blood, and three-week-old dead bodies. The Old Man nearly puked as he gagged on the stench and stumbled carefully down the hallway. He soon ran into a wooden door at the end of the hallway which thudded against his boots. It was time for another round, round six in the twelve round fight with the Nazis who encompassed the interior and exterior of the camp. He slid his right hand down the frame of the door until his fingers ran against the middle hinge. He then skimmed across the door to the left and felt for the lever protruding from the door. As he did this he received a shooting pain in his index finger. He used his left hand to feel for what was causing him the pain. When he touched the sliver of wood bulging from his index finger, he gasped in pain and muttered something indistinctly. He ripped the wood out of his finger, threw it on the ground, and tore off a piece of the bandage that was on his thumb and wrapped his index finger in it. He proceeded to open the door slowly and listened for any noises coming through the expanding gap as he opened it inch by inch. The door was opened with enough space to get through and he slid through it with his right hand kept steadily on the Walther which glinted off of the walls with a bright reflection from the harbored lights. He gently closed the door with the handle kept tight as he usually does, but he was startled by the sudden grip of strong hands on his upper back and neck. The infantryman told him to cease what he was doing and come with him promptly. The Old Man said that he would comply, but suddenly threw back his right elbow and struck the infantryman in the kidney. As he heard the grunting of the soldier he immediately turned around and grappled the enemy by the neck and threw him into the wall. The German's head burst through the dry wall and blood poured down the surface of the wall. The noise was loud and The Old Man knew that soldiers would be closing in on his position immediately. He picked up the soldier and tossed him over his left shoulder. He then jogged quickly, frantically searching for a hiding place for the soldier's unconscious body. As he was jogging, his knees suddenly buckled as his torso struck a gray trash cart. After he got to his feet again he thrust the body into the garbage cart and stifled the infantryman's face with greasy rags that filled the cart. As he reached over to feel the German's throat for a pulse he scraped his arm on a piece of rebar which protruded from one of the trash bags. In an angry response he yanked the rebar out of the trash bag and thrust it into the Nazi's neck. The blood which was still coursing through his veins spurted onto The Old Man's chest and face. He picked up one of the rags and wiped his face with it then he reached into the soldier's vest and grabbed a grenade, a Luger and its ammunition, and an empty canteen. He continued to jog while feeling along the wall for any doors which he could enter to hide from the soon-to-be investigating infantrymen. His right hand slid along the forest camouflage wallpaper and then went into a door entry way. He opened the door as indistinct shouting and hurried footsteps were becoming present at the end of the hallway to his left where he had killed the German. When he entered the room he heard a startled German Battalion Commander to his right who forcefully pushed his chair backwards from the desk. The Old Man turned around to where the door was and toppled a cabinet over towards the door to block any entryway advantage from the Germans who were closing in on his position. He could hear a few of them run past the door way as their voices echoed in the distance of the hall. As The Old Man walked further into the room and advanced towards the commander, papers that were on the desk crashed to the floor and spiraled upwards as a gust of cold, dank air rushed into the room from an open window. The papers were lifted them upwards like a tornado in Kansas would lift a car and heave it. The German clicked open his baton at its base and unfurled it as he rushed around the desk. The Old Man tackled the German into the desk and smashed his hand that held the baton against the edge of the cedar table. As the baton fell to the floor, The Old Man picked up a typewriter that was lying at the other end of the table. He lifted it above his head, pressed his body against the German to affix him to the table, and aggressively interrogated him,

"Where is your intelligence on the next attacks against Poland and the American troops' operations?!"

"Ich weiß es nicht!" The German replied.

"I do not know!"

The Old Man shouted again, "Where is it!" He then jerked his hands over the officer to simulate that he was going to drop the typewriter on the German's head.

"Neeeeeiiiiiin! Nein! Ich werde ihnen sagen... ist es in den schubladen durch die tür gegenüber meinem schreibtisch. Schauen sie, es ist richtig da. Der code ist 5, 16, 38, aber sie haben zu ziehen auf das schloss schwer, denn es klebt." The German nervously replied.

"No! No! I will tell you... it is in the vault through the door opposite to my desk. Look it is right there." He pointed to the door as he spoke. "The code is 5, 16, 38, but you have to pull hard on the lock, because it sticks."

The Old Man thanked the officer for his compliance. As the moon eerily glinted off of the typewriter, as if to imply the settling of the soul after it departs from the body, The Old Man abruptly dropped the typewriter. It fell with such force that the officer's head exploded as the typewriter struck the scalp, and then the desk collapsed to the ground – leggings, drawer springs, bolts, nails, the pack of Camel cigarettes that the infantryman were arguing about, and wood shrapnel littered the floor in a matter of seconds. The Old Man pushed aside the damaged mess of the desk and slid the typewriter across the floor opposite to the dead German. He picked up the German's body, about-faced and carried it. He set the German down briefly as he broke off the cabinet drawers from the cabinet that he had thrown on the ground upon entering the office, and he lodged the German into it. The Old Man walked unnerved towards the doorway that led to the vault. He entered and found the vault lying underneath an ice box which contained acetone peroxide. He entered the code into the vault, and pulled on the steel handle, but it did not open. In anger, he grabbed a crowbar which lay next to it and pried open the vault. He withdrew files that contained the Reich's armament locations, offensive attack plans against the Allies, and prisoner camp locations. He thought of a way to block the Germans from entering the room in which he was holed up in. Quickly, yet carefully he opened the ice box. He took out a container of the acetone peroxide explosive, and unlatched the canteen that he had stolen from his belt. He tilted the canteen and propped it between his legs in a diagonal position, then he took a Howitzer anti-aircraft photograph and bent it in half. Carefully and precisely, he poured the white powder into the canteen using the photograph as a makeshift funnel system. He gently placed the canteen on the moist, air-refrigerated floor, and put the files into his jacket pocket. He stood up and picked up the canteen, however, his arthritis was settling into his left hand again causing the canteen to vigorously shake. So, he pressed it against his chest firmly to avoid an untimely explosive death. He walked back to the cabinet that held the German and placed the canteen on the floor next to it as he piled up the desk chair, miscellaneous reading books, and other office supplies on top of the cabinet to create an explosive-advantage-point. He stood up on another chair, and placed the canteen on top of the mass of objects. He heard the shouting of the Germans getting closer so he evacuated the room and went back into the intelligence room. He knew from memory when he was studying the concentration camp, before he was captured as a prisoner, that all of the intelligence rooms had an emergency escape route that led outside. He found the door and unlatched the handle then he stepped outside into the pouring rain in the dark of night.

Chapter 9: Intelligence and Unintelligence

A deafening explosion occurred four minutes after The Old Man had escaped the intelligence room and it quieted the animals in the area as dust and debris fell from the eaves of the building. He smiled in a righteous way, because he knew what had happened. Praise God The Old Man thought to himself. When a German infantryman opened the door where the intelligence office was the canteen fell to the ground. Acetone peroxide is a contact-sensitive explosive powder. If enough force is pressuring the acetone then it will become combustible. Upon making impact with the floorboards the canteen exploded and sent shrapnel in an eight foot radius instantly ripping apart and impaling the three Germans who had entered. Their bodies were riddled with chair legs, springs to the face, and in an unbelievable act of physics, a Camel cigarette pierced one of the German's lips and exited through the back of his neck. The Old Man humbly tread in the night along the weeds and grass overgrowth that grew in abundance along the water-logged edges of the buildings due to a water leak underground. The two foot deep weeds and soft grass provided elegant stealth as they countered the footsteps of the man with a soft cushioning. The birds and animals started to entertain themselves with a peaceful, yet ominous cacophony, which was intermixed with the steady pace of the sound of crickets. In the distance at approximately 35 yards as the crow flies, a dimly glowing gas lantern was hung on a pole above a bathing German communications officer. The officer was casually immersing himself in the lukewarm water and the joy of listening to Beethoven's Fifth Symphony, which spun gently on a creaking and crackling Victor Victrola phonograph. He smiled casually as the smoke from his cigarette blew back in his face from the crisp wind. He leaned to his right and tapped the end of the cigarette on the edge of the bathtub. The ash immediately extinguished itself in the damp grass below. It was 57 degrees Fahrenheit outside as the German hummed gently to the tunes that Beethoven had composed long ago. The German talked to himself and said with a grin,

"Das ist gut."

"This is good."

Opposite to the German was a small five foot high by six foot wide communications shack. Inside of the shack was a dark-haired German Corporal. He was listening intently with maroon colored headphones to the feedback of Morse code transmissions from a surveillance team which was trying to track down a company of Marines that were thought to be in the surrounding hillsides. Gray smoke from the German's Camel cigarette emitted from a slightly opened window which was bloodied and cracked down the middle. The window was cracked due to a fight between one of the prisoners of war who threw a German up against the shack when the prisoners were first arriving on the scene in captivity. The prisoner unfortunately was immediately executed on sight, but the German sustained brain damage and died in the infirmary. Meanwhile, outside of the shack the gas lamp light spurted briefly and the resulting flare lit up the silhouette of The Old Man who was carefully approaching where the communications post was. The German officer was unaware of The Old Man's presence, but he surely became frighteningly aware within the next few moments. The Old Man slipped his hand into his torso pocket and withdrew from it a weighted Steilhandgrante. It was the same grenade that he had taken from the dead German over half an hour ago. He positioned himself behind the corner of one of the buildings and activated the grenade by priming it while turning the handle. He counted for two seconds and then threw it around the corner with his right hand while he kept his Walther in his left hand. The grenade plopped into the tub and the German was only able to get a split second glance at what had just landed on his chest. Before he could scream or get out of the tub, the grenade exploded and obliterated the tub. A couple of deer that were behind the communications shack leaped toward a fence and bounded over the top of it. A few rabbits were also scared and scurried around The Old Man. The explosion from the grenade ignited the gas lantern into an inferno. Some of the flames blew past and licked the edge of the building where The Old Man was positioned, but he was not burned, because he had ran back to the other end of that same building just seconds before the explosion. Simultaneously as this occurred and the lantern and tub exploded, a jagged piece of the pole-base of the lantern hurdled through the air in a horizontal manner and created a whistling sound as the rush of air entered through the hollow pipe. It blew right through a red and white placard which stated, "Achtung!", "Warning!", and the pipe ripped through the Corporal's chest and lungs, and the end of the pole forcefully ejected the Morse code machine out of the cracked window. The fiery blaze was gracefully dancing about in the open and weeded ground and grew at a fast pace as it ate up the dead weeds and grass that covered the expanse of the military base. As the smoke thickened and the heat raised by hundreds of degrees The Old Man ran towards the back of the prisoner containment units while the blare of sirens started to encompass the base. Firefighting soldiers ran with buckets of water to the scene and carried a water pump to stifle the blaze. The phone rang in the living room.  
"Excuse me for a moment," The Old Man said.  
"Wow, this is heavy. I can see how you have felt all these years."  
"Hello?"  
"Dad?"  
"Lee? Is that you?"  
"Yes."  
"Hello. It has been too long."  
"I know—way too long."  
Rob sneezed as a puff of smoke got into his eyes.  
"What was that noise?" Lee asked.  
"That was Rob Fairbancz. You might remember him when you were growing up. He was the man who came over and gave you counseling after your rabbit died."  
"Oh, yes. I know who that is now."  
"The kids and I would like to see you over Thanksgiving. I already took vacation time off and the kids have a week off from school."  
"I have nothing going on. That would be superb!"  
"We will be there on Wednesday... Thanksgiving Eve."  
"Okay son."  
"I am excited to see you."  
"Likewise."  
"I love you. We have lots to discuss."  
"I love you too."  
The Old Man hung up the phone.  
"Who was that at this hour?"  
"That was my son. Gosh, I have not seen him since I returned from Germany. What a surprise."  
"Definitely. That will be great for you two."  
"Excuse me. I will be back. I am going to the restroom. Can you put a few more logs in the fire?"  
"Yeah."

Chapter 10: The Treacherous Trespass in the Midst of Execution

The sirens continued to blare in ten second intervals as The Old Man continued with his mission. An announcement was repeated during the beginning of each siren whirr, "Warnung! Gefangener ausbrecher ist gefährlich. Schießen sie auf den ersten blick!"

"Caution! Prisoner escapee is dangerous. Shoot on sight!"

After there were ten siren blares throughout the encampment and The Old Man felt that it was safe he leaned his back against the building of Cell Block C. Another announcement which made him cringe in anger and shudder in sadness was reported over the sirens,

"Achtung: Führen sie alle gefangenen sofort und gehen sofort zum eingang ... wir bewegen sich."

"Attention: Execute all prisoners immediately and proceed promptly to the entrance... we are moving out."

The Old Man pressed his ear against the wooden boards of the Cell Block C PHU for movement patterns. He knew that he did not have much time to react if he was going to hold true to his statement to those prisoners in there. With drive, discernment, and agility he pulled his Walther from its holster and ran to the edge of the building. He frantically and habitually pulled back the slide-lock mechanism on it to eject spent casings, checked the tightness of the silencer, and placed the German Luger into the Walther's holster. He turned the corner and opened the door to the cell block. There were seven Germans inside when he opened the door. He went up to the German who had turned around as The Old Man opened the door. He punched the man in the face and as his head snapped back from the blunt force The Old Man pulled the German's neck down by his helmet strap and kneed him in his nose. Blood splattered across The Old Man's face and neck as he put the Walther up to the German's face and pulled the trigger. The German's body reeled backwards from the thorough force of the departing bullet from the Walther into his skull. Simultaneously as the bullet had killed the German, it ricocheted off of the base of a uniform rack killing one of the three German's who was trying to wrestle the prisoners out of their cells. His body collapsed lifelessly onto a desk near the cell door. Upon contact with the desk a board of wood that had splintered off of it shot up through the German's body and ripped open his chest. The Old Man shot the other two Germans after they saw the body of their comrade hit the desk. Their bodies fell in synchronization on top of one another and the sound of bones and ligaments snapping as they hit the floor together were heard across the room. The Old Man rushed back to where the first dead German was and he threw himself next to the body. Just as soon as he laid next to the German two other Germans ran in from another room as a third was packing up his gear from that same room. They saw the aftermath and as they raised their MP40s to scan the prison cells and shoot the prisoners they heard the click and release of a Steilhandgrante that The Old Man had discreetly snatched from the body of the German who laid dead next to him. Before the Germans could react The Old Man rolled over and tossed the grenade in their direction. The sound blew out The Old Man's hearing and the ringing deafened him, but did not faze him into disorientation. The two German's exploded across the wall with blood and intestines littering the expanse of the room. Luckily for The Old Man a piece of shrapnel pierced through the dry wall behind the Germans and it sailed into the third German's room into his heart. The German collapsed onto his knees knocking over a picture of his black haired wife Suzette Konlingitz. As both he and the picture crashed to the ground the photograph slid into his fading view as it burst out of the glass frame. As he slowly closed his eyes he heard the faintness of the song Pictures of You by The Cure playing in his mind as he breathed his last and died with tears running down his now pale face. The Old Man stood up and signed the cross over his chest with his trembling index finger. He walked over and helped the Czechoslovakian and Jewish prisoners out of their cells. He picked up the Czechoslovakian and laid him gently outside of the cell. The Old Man signaled with his fist to the Jewish prisoner to have them hold position and put his finger up to his mouth to instruct them to be quiet. He ran over to the one of the dead Germans and took off their uniform and pants. Within a minute he slipped the clothing over his body and signaled for the Jewish prisoner to come to his position. He asked if there were any wheeled carts in the vicinity. The Jewish man told The Old Man that there was a cart that he saw the Germans wheeling the other day to a storage shed outside of the cell block as he viewed them out of his window. The Old Man gave the Jewish prisoner the Luger and told him to quickly bring the cart inside where they were so he could take them out of the prison.

"The Luger is already loaded in case you have to fire it. Be stealthy and try not to fire it, because you will blow our cover and ruin my escape plan."

The prisoner said that he understood and he rushed towards the door.

Chapter 11: Preparation for the Intense Escape

The Jewish man reached the door that led outside and he opened it abruptly. The smoke from the smoldering fire that the Germans were attempting to extinguish lingered thick in the moist Black Forest air. Out of his peripheral vision he could see the reflection of the fire in the distance. The heat was so hot that he immediately broke out into a sweat. The fire looked like it was coming in his direction. The man could not see very far through the rolling black smoke so he put the Luger into his prisoner's uniform buttock pocket and got onto his hands and knees. He quickly crawled in the direction of the storage shed which was fifteen feet away with his legs pushing him forwards and his left arm kept on the ground. With his right arm he extended his reach towards his back where the pistol was in case there were any Germans that crossed his path and tried to kill him. Several minutes later he reached the concrete foundation of the storage shed. He arose cautiously from the ground and as he stood up he looked around for any Germans. He covered his mouth the best that he could with his ragged and muddy shirt and breathed shallowly so that he did not choke on the smoke. He turned the handle but it was locked. He looked for another entryway and found a boarded up window on the rear of the shed. He picked up a rock that was laying in the grass nearby a 100 gallon water tank and a rusty ten foot tall tilted chain link fence and thrust it five times with the little strength that he had. Just before his arms gave out the boards broke apart and caved in creating an entryway. From the inside of the shed he scanned the small building. He could see rusted rakes, the cart which was covered with a sheet, folding military shovels, a pile of dirt left over from previous burials of his comrades, a shelving unit which contained lighter fluid and fertilizer which the Germans used to make homemade bombs, a blue spare diesel gasoline canister, and another red gasoline canister which contained unleaded gasoline to fuel the six jeeps for the camp. Conveniently lying next to the canisters of gasoline were a moldy pile of rags and a white sweat-stained t-shirt that a German had taken off and left earlier due to becoming overheated. There was also a small one foot by two foot wooden box which was labeled in misshapen stencil, "Brennbaren" "Flammable". He clicked open the lock on the door and pulled the cart out of the shed. He placed a couple of the military shovels on the cart and thought about what he could do to cause a distraction to enable an ease of escape for him and his comrades. Before he shut the door to head back to the cell block he propped it open with both of the gasoline canisters. He then tore a few of the rags down the middle and tied them together into a two foot length with a knot on the end. He created two of these two foot rags and opened both of the canisters. He could hear the distant shouting of soldiers trying to extinguish the fire which was now a blazing inferno. The heat was getting hotter by the minute as the Jewish prisoner frantically pushed the rags down into the gasoline canisters.

"Nein! Es wird immer außer kontrolle!" Exclaimed one of the soldiers.

"No! It is getting out of control!"

The prisoner thought to himself, I'd better hurry up before I become a human torch and he picked up and threw the wooden box that read, "Brennbaren" against the concrete. He shuffled through the debris and pulled from it a flare. He grabbed the sweaty t-shirt and wiped the surface of the gasoline canisters with it. Then he poured gasoline around the shed and piled the remaining rags next to the can. He wrapped the t-shirt around his mouth and nose and placed the flare into the back of his pants. He placed his left hand on the cart handle and in his right hand he held the Luger in case he needed it and he rushed across the grounds towards the cell block. The flames were becoming more intense as the minutes passed by and the Germans helplessly looked on as their camp was becoming engulfed. An explosive and ammunition dump ignited from the fires. Bullets could be heard ricocheting off of the trucks and tanks and the grenades exploded one after another with a deafening explosion. The Germans ran in all directions as the explosives discharged. The boards from the ammunition crates hurdled across the air and knocked down six Germans who landed on their chests in the dirt. One of the Germans struck his head on a protruding rock and shattered his skull on its sharp edge. His brain oozed from his head. As the other five Germans got up from the ground and looked on in horror at him a .30 caliber belt of ammunition fired off and the bullets ripped through the Germans. There were hundreds of screams of terror and pain as the Germans were torn apart from the shrapnel and killed from the exploding ammunition cache. When he reached the door to the cell block after trying to escape the dispersing shrapnel from the explosions, the Jewish prisoner went inside and yelled out for The Old Man saying,

"I made it back, take the cart and place our Czechoslovakian friend on it. Heck, I call him Cesslo for short since we do not have our rank or name on our outfits. I hope we can act quickly and efficiently, because I am going to create a distraction and we need to move out of here immediately."

The Old Man questioned what the Jewish prisoner was going to do,

"What do you mean by a 'distraction'?"

With a self-assured smile which lit up his black eyes in the dim and clouded lighting he replied,

"Simply. Boom. If you know what I mean."

He winked at The Old Man who stood there with a blank expression, but it was not blank for long as a smile crossed his aged face. The Old Man pointed to the ceiling with his crooked index finger and said,

"God be with us."

The Jewish man nodded in agreement and he turned towards the door as The Old Man gently placed Cesslo on the cart. The Old Man could hear the snapping sound of the flare's cap and a loud hiss-like noise as it was ignited.

"Are you ready sir?" Asked the Jewish prisoner.

"Yes, come over here, hand me the flare and lay down on the cart and I will place the sheet over the two of you. By the way, what is your name son?" Replied The Old Man.

"You can call me Mikhail." Mikhail replied as he walked to where The Old Man was.

"I need you to hold this flare, and when we get outside you need to throw it towards your right. Okay?"

The Old Man agreed with a grunt of affirmation. Mikhail laid on the cart next to Cesslo and placed the Luger inside the concave shovel head as he gripped it by the handle. The Old Man covered them with the sheet and quickly rolled the cart to the door.
Chapter 12: The Intense Escape  
Meanwhile outside of the cell block a few Germans and an officer were hustling through the smoke towards the water tank which was situated to the right of the shed.

"Es ist kalt, obwohl die flammen heiß sind. Ich brauche eine zigarette." Said the officer as he was walking past the door to the cell block.

"It is cold even though the flames are hot. I need a cigarette."

"Ja, Offizier Krebelt. Möchten sie auf einem Kamel oder ungefiltert Zeffelviesin?"

"Yes, Officer Krebelt. Would you like a Camel or an unfiltered Zeffelviesin?" One of the soldiers asked.

"Ja, Zeffelviezin. Das wäre gut."

"Yes, Zeffelviezin. That would be good." The officer said.

"Danke."

"Thank you." The officer stated.

As the officer stopped briefly in front of the cell block door to light up his cigarette, The Old Man had reached the door with the cart. He went to turn the handle on the door, but he quickly withdrew his reach, because he heard a cough coming from the other side. The person coughing was the officer who took too deep of a draw on his cigarette as he was lighting it up with his favorite bald eagle lighter; which he purchased at his father's store, Josepf's Thrift Store, for his birthday present back in September 29, 1923 after getting off of work from the textile factory off of Solenneinna Lane. The Old Man whispered to Mikhail almost inaudibly as the sounds of the explosives reported in the distance,

"We have got company."

Mikhail responded with, "What shall we do, sir?"

The Old Man said, "We should find a place among these rooms to rest for a while until the chaos settles down. We can sleep somewhere for a few hours and then move out."

Mikhail responded to The Old Man, "That sounds like a plan. Every morning when I would wake up before breakfast was served there was an alarm clock that I could hear ringing in the office. We might be able to sleep in the office behind the desk and use the alarm as a distraction for the Germans outside. However, we will not be getting a few hours of rest, because the flare only lasts for an hour to an hour and a half maximum depending on the weather and elevation. Currently, it will hold an hour maximum."

Mikhail got off of the cart and gave the Luger back to The Old Man. He helped to push the cart for him as they traversed among the blood-sprayed concrete. The arm of one of the Germans who got blown up by the grenade was hanging ominously over the desk. Simultaneously, The Old Man and Mikhail shuddered from the sight and smell of the decaying bodies. The intestines of another German were wrapped around the bars of one of the cell doors and a few teeth were embedded into the wall due to the sheer force of the blast. As they walked past the mess they turned to their right upon entering the shredded doorway and they positioned themselves in the room after moving the desk up against the wall. The Old Man handed Mikhail the lit flare and Mikhail placed it in a metal rectangular waste basket. Mikhail found the alarm clock which was tossed to the floor from the German falling backwards upon receiving the shrapnel blast and it read, "2:02 AM". Mikhail picked up the cracked alarm clock and shook the loose shards of glass from it. He twirled the knob on the top of it until it hit 3:00 AM. To his left on the wall was a red X marked on a pinup, German armored truck calendar on the date of July 23, which was also marked with shorthand writing in the small white box.

"We should probably only sleep for a little while. The sun will be coming up in a few hours and we will have a harder time of escape when that happens. One hour of rest is what we need to regain our energy and stamina. You probably need more rest than I do so you can sleep while I stand on watch. I am going to grab a weapon. If you are startled awake by my gunfire then you must save yourself, because I am sure we will be outnumbered if the Germans realize that we are in here." A few moments later, Mikhail grabbed a Luger from the waistline of the dead German who lay sprawled out in front of him. The blood was clotted and dried onto his mouth as Mikhail shifted the body onto its back. He searched for any documentation and identification which might prove useful to the United States military. He did not find any documentation except that of a letter that the German had written an hour before. He laid it on the desk by the lamp which had a gaping hole through its lampshade due to some of the shrapnel. He picked up the Luger and pulled back the action to check if there was a bullet in the chamber already. There was not so he cocked one into the chamber. The noise startled The Old Man who quickly withdrew his Walther and aimed it into the direction of the sound.

"Who is there?" He exclaimed in excitement.

"It is just me, sir." Mikhail announced back.

"You scared me. I was already drifting to sleep when I heard your statement about guns going off. Next thing I know I hear your gun cocking back and I thought we were done for." The Old Man replied with a shaking voice.

"It is okay. I understand. Try to get some sleep and I will stay on wa-." Mikhail stated.

Mikhail cut his sentence short, because The Old Man was snoring loudly in a deep sleep. He pulled the wooden chair out from underneath the officer's desk. Pieces of the chair's backing were blown through by shrapnel which were then embedded into the wall behind the desk. He sat down in the rickety chair and after a few minutes he picked up the letter. It read,

"Liebe Suzette,  
Ich bin immer noch tief in unserer sasis im Schwarzwald verschanzt. Ich bin vor uns auf ihren besuch und unser baby. Sergeant Luniwicz gesagt, dass ich am ende dieses jahres entlassen werden und ich kann nach hause kommen. Ich vermisse dich so sehr und ich bin derzeit starrt dich in der fotografie, die ich nahm, als wir waren auf unserer hochzeitsreise in Paris. Sie sah so sexy, und ich weiß, dass sie sich noch mehr sexy als ich im Dezember eintreffen. Ich liebe dich, baby. Wir sind Überschrift von diesem lager, wie ich spreche, weil wir gefährdet sind. Mach dir keine sorgen alles wird in ordnung sein, werde ich sie im Dezember zu sehen.  
Liebe,  
Corporal Asuiziv."
"Dear Suzette,

I am still deeply entrenched at our base in the Black Forest. I am looking forwards to seeing you and our baby. Sergeant Luniwicz said that I will be discharged at the end of this year and I can come home. I miss you so much and I am currently staring at you in the photograph that I took when we were on our honeymoon in Paris. You looked so sexy, and I know that you will look even sexier when I arrive in December. I love you, babe. We are heading out of this camp as I speak, because we are compromised. Do not worry everything will be okay, I will see you in December.

Love,

Corporal Asuiziv."
Mikhail set down the letter and went into a deep state of thought. He remembered the pubs that he used to visit in Denmark when he was fourteen with his dad Robertsiv John Yurkovic, a Slovak immigrant to Denmark who married his mother Helenski Van Brunisclosh. Every Friday evening when his father got off of work as a plumber, him and his dad would walk to Vinnie's Pub and drink a Guinness and eat all-you-can-eat fish and chips. The tilapia that was served was so moist and flaky he recalled. He smiled as tears welled up in his eyes at the realization of his present circumstance in the concentration camp. He figured in his mind that if his dad were still alive and had not died of alcoholism that he would have handed the Germans their butts in a bag tied off with rope and thrown into the river nearest the camp. He remembered a time when Billokovic taunted him when he was ten. He arrived home sweaty and dirtied from running across the park to his home on 122 Longevity Lane. His father had finished a couple of glasses of Guinness fresh from the brewery where his best friend Tonto Joseph Nichols worked and he was placing the third glass next to the tarnished beige armchair upon gulping the last sip. His dad put a smile on amidst his drunkenness and said, "Hey boy, where ya been?" His dad noticed the sweat profusely running down his son's light brown hair and dirt-lined and stained cheeks. He asked Mikhail what had happened. Billokovic threatened me and Susanna, because he saw me smiling at her. He told me that if he ever caught me with his girl again that he would slit my throat with a stick. He then pushed me to the ground and said that I was an idiot and he spat in my face. Mikhail remembered his dad's face turning deep red with rage. The glass of Guinness shattered in his hands but he was not cut by it. Mikhail remembered his frail mind becoming flooded with fear as he saw his dad get up from the chair. Where is he? His dad angrily snarled. He is still in the park with the rest of my classmates including Susanna. Mikhail remembers his dad snatching his overcoat from the wooden coat rack which then fell to the floor and broke. I'll fix that later his dad stated. He remembered that his dad was a handyman and worked for a living by making cabinetry and tables for the community. He remembered that happiness that he received when his dad bought him his first bicycle when he was thirteen. His dad had received a $400 check from the town hall after building 20 tables and chairs for the town council. His thoughts resumed after he remembered the overcoat rack falling to the ground and the gushing of the wind across his tear-stained face as his dad opened the screen door. He remembered saying to his dad, 'Dad, you do not have to do this. Billokovic didn't mean anything by what he did.' His dad promptly replied, Son, these kinds of men do not change their ways aside from divine intervention from God. I have dealt with many a fool in my childhood, but I stood my ground and took no crap from anyone. This one kid named Jorgio picked on me every day during my teenage years until one day I had taken enough of his garbage. I was walking out of the schoolhouse and felt burning rage within me, because he had hit the last straw with me. As Jorgio was sneering at me and laughing with his buddies I waltzed over to where he was standing and I punched him in the abdomen. I pushed his friends away and then I slammed his face onto the concrete stairway. I went over and picked up a boulder as he cried like a little baby. I told him to knock off his crap with me and the other kids and grow up. All that I can recall after that is a haze, because when I came to after blacking out the teacher and Jorgio's parents were frantic. There was blood everywhere and the boulder was cracked in half. My point is that if you do not stand up for yourself then people like Billokovic and Jorgio will continue to take advantage of your frailty. Mikhail thought to himself that his dad was right, although he could not fight for himself when he was being taken captive as a prisoner of war. The rain outside was coming on like, an avalanche on a hellish day, he remembered his dad saying to him all of the time. He remembered them walking through the flooded and humid streets to the corner of Longevity Lane and Brooksdayle Road. His dad stormed across the muddy fields and each depression of his size 13 work boot caused mud to splash on Mikhail's torso. He had never seen his father so angry in his life. He remembered the disturbing high-pitched and crackling laughter of Billokovic as he played with Susanna's hair on the merry-go-round. Robertsiv walked up to Billokovic and shouted C'mere boy! Mikhail smiled briefly when Billokovic's face turned sheet-white and he realized who had addressed him. I need to talk to you right now, boy! When Billokovic asked why, Robertsiv said I think you know exactly who you are talking to and why! Billokovic stood over by Mikhail's father who grabbed him by his ear and dragged him over to the wooden fence. Mikhail knew exactly where his father was going with this. Robertsiv interrogated Billokovic and asked him if he had threatened his son. Billokovic stuttered on his words and swallowed a lump the size of the hail stones which were falling at the time, N-n-na-no sir. Robertsiv told Billokovic to never speak to his son again that way. He told him to bend over. Billokovic embarrassingly complied with the order. Mikhail remembered that his father had a favorite board for punishing him when he misbehaved. Robertsiv pried off the already loosened board as a crack of thunder pealed across the sky and the rain poured in torrential sheets. That was the most rain I can remember our town ever receiving. Robertsiv commanded Billokovic to pull down his long johns. He hit Billokovic on the bottom thirty-five times with each succession becoming harder and harder. Mikhail winced in pain as he realized from the reflection of the moon that Billokovic's bottom was festering and swelling. His blood spattered and washed down the fence. As he reflected in the chair of the German officer he felt bad that he told his dad what had happened to him. His father was a good, hardworking, Christian man, but how he longed for him to be in the concentration camp with him so he could express what he had experienced. He knew that his father would die trying to kill off every German in that camp. He smiled briefly as he imagined his father getting taken captive from beating a German to death. He knew that if the beating of Billokovic was unbearable to witness then how bad would the beating of a German Nazi be coming from his father?

A half an hour went by as Mikhail reflected on his life as a young boy in Denmark and he wondered anxiously if God would permit him to survive to see his thirteen year old daughter Nicole. The last time I saw her was when she was coming home from the hospital. Man that was rough on me. Praise your name, Father, that you were willing to save her life. One pound and twelve ounces! Wow! That is such a blessing, God, that she is not malformed of the mind or body. I wonder how Jilliana is doing. Did she run off with another man while I have been held captive? Does she think that I am dead and made up a story to Nicole? Is SHE DEAD?! DID THEY SURVIVE THE BOMBINGS?! God, please let me make it out of here alive! Mikhail's thought processes were interrupted when he heard the Germans shouting something outside of the containment room. He heard their indistinct voices, then hurried footsteps, and four shots rang out and reverberated along the walls of the containment units until the sound faded into the thickness of the Black Forest. The thud of four Jewish prisoners was heard hitting the side of the building and the Germans laughed. Mikhail sighed deeply as he thought about his family again. He saw Cesslo move briefly out of his peripheral vision and he glanced alarmingly at Cesslo as his body moved underneath the sheet in the dim and flickering lighting. Cesslo groaned a deep guttural noise as he tried to shift his body on the hard steel cart. Mikhail saw that Cesslo's bandages were slipping off of his head as he repositioned himself on the cart. Mikhail told Cesslo to briefly stop moving so he could adjust the bandages. As Mikhail arose from the chair he told Cesslo that he was going into the prison cell room to obtain more bandaging. He got out of the chair and glanced back at The Old Man and asked himself if the guy was going to be able to do as he had said and help in the escape. Mikhail took a few steps into the hallway and could hear Germans shouting and running in the hallway where The Old Man had killed the German who he had stuffed into the gray rag cart. He walked for a few feet and when he reached the doorway that led into the prison cells he heard the knob turn on the entry door. As it was being opened he quickly ducked behind the shattered desk and dead German. He grabbed the MP40 which lay next to it and cocked back the slide. He waited in fear and tried to mutter to The Old Man, but his words were stifled in fright and by the hand of God. The door was opening partially and the smoke from outside started to creep through the doorway. Just before Officer Krebelt walked in he was distracted by an infantryman who said that they had encountered a problem with Private Jersen. He said,

"Er ist verrückt und schießen unsere truppen. Wir ihn in angriff genommen und drückte ihn auf den boden. Wir brauchen ihre sofortige hilfe, sir."

"He is going insane and shooting our troops. We tackled him down and are pinning him against the ground. We need your immediate assistance, sir."

The officer closed the door and walked away with the Germans. Mikhail breathed a sigh of relief as he wrapped the MP40's gun sling around his neck and tightened it against his chest. He walked briskly to where The Old Man and Cesslo were at and said,

"Sir! Sir, wake up. We need to leave now. The camp is becoming highly unstable now. I am going to grab some bandages for Cesslo and I will meet you at the front door." Mikhail walked back into the room and gathered medical supplies for the escape. Meanwhile, The Old Man got up from the floor and made sure that Cesslo was in a stable position as he placed the sheet over top of him. He heard Mikhail remind him not to forget the flare which was three-quarters of the way consumed so he grabbed it with his right hand out of the waste basket and placed his left hand on the cart's push bar. He wheeled the cart into the prisoner's cell room and stopped just short of the front door. He said to Mikhail,

"Mikhail, this has been a long and sorrowful endurance filled with pain, and hardship beyond what any man should endure in his or her lifetime. I would like to extend my gratitude for Cesslo and you putting your trust in me. God has been leading me on this expedition and extraction mission, and honestly at my age I should not have the strength and abilities that I do, but by God's grace and mercy I do. I said a long prayer a few years ago before the Nazi's tortured me that God would give me the strength and dignity to serve my country with respect in spite of what happened here. I have suffered greatly – we all have, but God will see us through and today will be a day to remember."

"Sir, I do not underestimate you nor God. I know that it is His will that we make it out of here safely. He has spoken through my spirit regarding this affirmation. Let us pray, and Cesslo, you do not have to speak a word just pray in your head." Mikhail said.

The Old Man led them in prayer as they bowed their heads towards the floor,

"Dear Heavenly Father, we come to you in this time of great need and discernment. Do not fail us, oh Lord, but guide us with thy Almighty hand so that we may praise you for the deliverance that is to come from the evil one. Keep us in the presence of your angels and may the strength of David be blessed upon us along with the force of Michael. It is in your Almighty name we pray, giving you honor, glory, and the long suffering. In Jesus' name, Amen."

"Amen." Mikhail responded.

"A-a-ahmen." Cesslo uttered to the surprise of The Old Man and Mikhail.

As soon as they said Amen the alarm clock in the other room rang. The Old Man smiled and considered the alarm to be an affirmation from God. He lifted the sheet off of the top of the cart as Cesslo and Mikhail laid themselves on it. Mikhail placed the Luger inside the concave shovel head as he had done earlier. He rested the handle of the shove at his feet towards the end of the cart and placed the shovel head on his chest while letting it rest on top of the MP40. The Old Man lifted the sheet up and over top of the two men.

"Are you ready, men?" Announced The Old Man.

"Yes, sir! We are at the ready!" Mikhail exclaimed in a muffled voice.

The Old Man pulled out his Walther and gently lowered back the slide mechanism. When he felt the resistance of the slide as it ran over an unspent bullet he released the slide back over the bullet into its original position. He placed the Walther in his left hand and rested it on top of the push bar. With his right hand he opened the door and thrust the flare to the right where the shed was. He closed the door for a few moments. The sound of the flames igniting and traversing along the trail of gasoline was brief. The trail reached the pool of gasoline which was puddled where the two foot rag extensions were. All at once the puddle ignited and so did the rags. When the flames reached near the top of the canisters the fumes ignited and exploded the canisters. Dirt and debris was sent hurdling forty five feet into the air and the top one-third of the shed blew apart. A piece of equipment and a board were flung through the air towards the cell door, but they barely breached the surface of the metal. The Old Man opened the door and rushed across through the smoke and flames to where the rusted fence was. The edges of the sheet on the cart were singed by the intense heat by the time The Old Man reached the fence line.

"Mikhail, use the shovel on the fence, quickly!" The Old Man exclaimed.

Mikhail threw off the sheet as The Old Man picked up Cesslo. He then stuffed the bandages into his prisoner's outfit. The flickering from the fire lit up the silhouettes of the three men as Mikhail started to break away the chain links on the fence. Within a few minutes he was able to create a hole in the fence and he ducked through it. As The Old Man climbed through with Cesslo, Mikhail aimed down the sights of the MP40 and scanned the area in case any Germans were approaching. He could hear shouting and screaming, but thankfully they were on the other side of the camp.

"Let's get out of here, now!" Mikhail exclaimed in fear.

They ran up the hillside which led into the thickness of the Black Forest. Their feet dug into the soggy ground as rain started to fall from the sky in sheets. Another avalanche of rain, Mikhail thought. Seven flashes of lightning lit up the forest in succession and a deafening roar of thunder rippled along the tree line. They ran as fast as they could through the forest using the limited moonlight as their navigational guidance. Their hearts were racing and their legs and lungs burned with excitement. Cesslo's body bounced against The Old Man's chest and he could be heard weeping aloud due to both the pain in his head and joy in his heart. They ran for two-quarters of a mile and came across a river.

"We should take shelter on that flat rock and use the moss that is around us as a bed. I do not believe the Germans will consider the shed explosion to be foul play. The flames from your explosion were ten feet from the shed and closing in fast. They will consider it a coincidence." Mikhail scoffed in laughter. The Old Man laughed with Mikhail too and praised God that they made it out of the camp safely. Mikhail and The Old Man carried Cesslo to a nearby tree trunk and rested his body against it. The Old Man gathered handfuls of moss and created three beds of it along the rock face. Mikhail spoke gently to Cesslo as he pulled off his bandages. Cesslo screamed out in pain as the coagulated bandaging was pulling away his scabs. Mikhail asked The Old Man to give him the bandages. The Old Man handed the bandages to Mikhail who then wrapped them around Cesslo's wounds. A few moments later the three men praised God and settled down on the moss bedding as the rain continued through the night and they slept soundly for several hours.
Chapter 13: From the Flames of Desperation to a Victorious Inspiration

The night fell away freely, hour by precious hour as the men slept. Thankfully they were no longer needing to fear death as they had before while being held captive. The owls hooted, crickets as large as two inches long chirped peacefully to intermingle the ambiance of the rain. A lone frog leaped joyfully through the potholes and clambered underneath the tall tree roots to eat the bugs which were in abundance amidst the sea of moss which littered the expanse of the forest. As the rain in the Black Forest continued coming down solidly the men were awakened by the river water. It had risen several feet from its original state through the night and now was moving across the rock on which the men lay. It was slowly rising, but had reached a high enough point to where the water was overlapping the men's feet. The Old Gray was the first to feel his feet being tickled by the warm waters of the river. He woke up Mikhail and Cesslo and announced that they should get moving into the depths and attempt to find either civilization or a company of Army soldiers, but hopefully not any more Nazis. Mikhail said,

"I will take point, sir. Cesslo, are you feeling okay? Has the swelling around your eyes decreased enough so that we can remove the bandaging?"

"Yes, I am able to see now. Thank you guys, and thank God that we were able to make it out of the camp in relatively speaking, one piece."

"Okay, let's move out." The Old Man instructed.

They got up from the rock and stretched their arms, legs, and backs. The rock in the forest is not the most comfortable of beds, but a man will sleep on whatever is before him after experiencing extreme, and almost deadly exhaustion. Mikhail walked over to Cesslo and removed his bandages. He could see that Cesslo's skull was fractured from the injury that he sustained.

"I need to create a makeshift compress and antiseptic. Your skull is fractured and I cannot risk you bleeding out." Mikhail mentioned to Cesslo.

"Okay, I am not worried. What are we? Soldiers! Warriors of Christ. For God and country we stand united as one, ready to fend off enemies foreign and domestic. Whether there are few enemies or we are outmanned we are prepared for anything that comes our way. We will stand strong and embrace our fate if necessary to meet the Father and Creator. We will not falter to reload another round into the chamber and take out anyone in our path, to include women and children. We will die with honor, fight against the tears and pain, and abolish the enemies to keep our countries safe from these imbeciles." Cesslo proudly announced.

"Army strong!" The Old Man exclaimed.

"For God and country!" Mikhail exclaimed.

"I will be right back, Cesslo. Can you do me a favor and grab some moss and wet it down? After you have grabbed the moss grab some strong tree roots long enough to be wrapped around your head." Mikhail said.

"Sounds good." Cesslo replied.

Mikhail stepped away from the rock and walked towards a grove of three pine trees that were twenty-five feet away from the rock. The pine trees towered over the rock as if to suggest God's entity, Holy Spirit, and Jesus' protection on the men for the coming hours, days, and years. Mikhail stopped between a crevasse which was located between the trees. He stared intently through the crevasse like a sniper staring down the glass of a Mosin Nagant's rifle scope, as he examined a spider spinning a web. He noticed that the spider was a yellow sac spider which was busy spinning a web to catch its prey. He bent down to the lower half of the tree and snapped off a twig. He walked around the tree and rolled the end of the twig in the sap which dripped seductively along the surface of the tree trunk. He looked over his right shoulder and saw a colossal ant hill. The ants were thick, black, and aggressive. Coming from a city lifestyle, the ants were the biggest he had seen in his life, measuring the size of his pinky finger. He tread carefully to the ant hill, but just before he reached it a bird decided to dive bomb him.

"Shii-! C'mon, really?!" He exclaimed and laughed softly as the raven excreted itself upon his shoulder.

In an almost whimsical manner the raven cawed back at him and perched itself upon a tree which overlooked Mikhail.

"You are one lucky bird you little dick. If I had my rifle with me you would have been my dinner and who would have been squawking then, huh?" Mikhail talked back to the bird.

He bent down and grabbed a handful of moss from the ground and wiped the excrement from his shoulder. He proceeded towards the ant mound. He crouched down and hovered the stick an inch above the entrance. The ants crawled onto the stick and became lodged into the sap. He advanced back towards the yellow sac spider. He cautiously reached the stick up into the crevasse and put it near the spider. It hesitated and tilted its head and peered intently and curiously at the ants that showed up in its web. For a few moments it hobbled around on its web sending vibrations of joyous exclamation shimmering along the reflective web. Suddenly with prowess it leaped onto the stick and injected its fangs into one of the helpless ants.

"Oh, frick!" Mikhail startlingly replied.

"Are you okay?" The Old Man asked from afar.

"Ya, I am collecting a spider web." Mikhail answered.

"We do not have any time for souvenirs, Mikhail." The Old Man half seriously replied.

"Wait, oh. I remember that. I know what you are doing. Carry on." The Old Man interjected.

Mikhail placed the spider and the ants gently on the ground next to him. He reached up and grabbed the fresh web and tore it from its place among the pines. He walked over to The Old Man and Cesslo. Cesslo did what he was told and had the wet moss and roots sitting next to him on the rock. He stood up upon Mikhail's approach. Mikhail bent down and picked up the moss and roots.

"Hold these in your hands, please." Mikhail told Cesslo.

Mikhail reached up with the spider web and he placed it onto Cesslo's head wound and Cesslo flinched back before Mikhail could fully place the web on the wound.

"Whoa, what are you doing with that?" Cesslo questioned Mikhail.

"Don't worry bud, spider webs contain natural antiseptics and antibiotics within them when they are laid down from the spider. This will help prevent your wounds from becoming infected while we are on patrol." Mikhail reassured Cesslo.

"Oh, I never knew that they could do that. And, I have always been irritated when they brush against my face when I am walking – you know those "flying" spider webs? I never thought I would see a day when a web would become beneficial to me." Cesslo replied.

"Yes, it is funny how God's natural and beautiful Earth can be so nurturing to us humans." Mikhail told Cesslo.

Mikhail finished placing the spider web over Cesslo's head and he reached his right hand down towards the left hand of Cesslo which held the moss and the roots. Cesslo placed both items into Mikhail's hand. Mikhail pressed the moistened moss upon the temporal lobes and forehead of Cesslo and he asked him, "Can you please hold these in place while I tie them down?" Cesslo did as he was asked to and Mikhail firmly tied the moss down against the spider web using the tree roots as a harness.

"You are all patched up now. Shall we get out of here now?" Mikhail asked.

A few moments later the troupe departed and headed south along the raging river. They walked for a few miles and sloshed across the mossy mosquito-infested environment. They all soaked in the awe of God that was held and tangible within the Black Forest. Soon they reached a point where the river forked downhill. Mikhail stopped and so did the rest of the soldiers.

"Hold position while I check out the area. I do not have a good feeling about this area. Everything seems too still and quiet. You guys need to make yourselves scarce in that gap between those rocks" He pointed them in the direction that he was talking about and pulled his MP40 off from against his chest. Then he walked carefully along the uppermost part of the river bottom along the thick tree line. The Old Man and Cesslo discreetly hunkered down into the rock and The Old Man handed Cesslo his Walther and Luger.

"I have done enough fighting, don't you agree?" Cesslo nodded his head and politely put his index finger up to his lips to initiate silence. He asked The Old Man, "Loaded?" The Old Man nodded in response. A few moments later a six pound fish lurched over a rock and created a loud splash which startled The Old Man and Cesslo. Thirty minutes went by and the men became anxious as to where Mikhail was. At thirty-five minutes into waiting for Mikhail, Cesslo whispered, "Move out, we are looking for Mikhail." The Old Man moved his hand forwards to direct Cesslo that he was ready. Just before Cesslo was surfacing from within the rock bunker he was startled by a noise on the edge of the rocks above him. He instinctively raised the Luger up towards the top of the rock. The noise suddenly became louder as it proceeded towards the far end of the rock which faced the river and then landed onto the moss at the entrance of the bunker. Cesslo aimed at the entrance with a steady eye, but shaking hand. As the figure walked in front of the entrance, Cesslo exclaimed, "Stoppen!" "Halt!"  
"It is me, Mikhail! At ease!" Cesslo put his guns away and wiped his eyebrow. "Thank God, we were just leaving to come and find you."

Cesslo and The Old Man walked out of the rock bunker and paced besides Mikhail along the river.

"I searched the perimeter for a few hundred yards and did not see anything. I did, however, hear a popping sound in the distance to the Northwest. It sounded like hundreds of twigs breaking at once and it only lasted for a few minutes. I am not sure what it-." Mikhail was interrupted as he stared at the river to his left.

"What is that?" Cesslo exclaimed.

"The stench is horrid!" Chimed in The Old Man.

"Oh, that is-." Mikhail gagged at both the smell and sight of what he saw coming down the river.

The rushing river water was infusing with a deep rust color. The wind suddenly picked up for about five minutes and it blew mist from the water splashing on the rocks. Mikhail was astonished as he looked at his arms and both Cesslo and The Old Man's face and clothing. The mist tasted familiar as it was breathed into his mouth.

"It is blood!" Mikhail screamed in terror but his mouth was held shut by The Old Man's hand.

The clothes of the men and their bare skin were covered in a light dusting of bloody mist.

"Oh, frick..." Cesslo's mouth went agape as he looked at the object floating down the river.

"Is that a-." Cesslo's remark was interrupted by Mikhail finishing his words.

"German." Mikhail exasperatingly responded.

The body of a 19 year old German Private was floating by, waterlogged and bloating, and his face was smashed in which enabled the fish in the river a source of as he floated by. The fish and crayfish clung to his flesh and nibbled at it as if they had not eaten in weeks.

There was a loud explosive report for a brief moment as a Tiger's round zinged by the men and exploded behind them into their rock bunker. Dirt and debris flew into the air several hundred feet and clouded their view.

"Tank!" Mikhail exclaimed.

"Find cover. I don't know where he is!" Mikhail screamed out.

All three of the men ran to leap over the hillside that was nearest the river. The Old Man caught his right foot on an uplifted root and landed face first into the moss which lay in front of it. He was uplifted by the strong arms of Cesslo and they jumped over the hillside with Mikhail. The reports of MP40 gunfire and .30 caliber machine gun fire rippled across the only just peaceful forest. Tree branches and bark exploded around the men and littered their position. Cesslo could see four deer scurrying off to his left and a fawn which was trying to chase after its mother sustained a broken leg and rib upon falling from a bullet impact. He could hear its wail for the mother as she bounded across the forest into the dusty distance. Another deer made a sharp turn around back towards the fawn and it pawed and nibbled at the fawn's fur attempting to encourage it to stand up. After a discernible struggle and grimaced look on its face it slowly got up as the other deer hoisted it from underneath its stomach. Cesslo's distractedness was interrupted by Mikhail's next words.

"I can make out three Tiger tanks and it looks like a company of men. We need to retreat now."

As the men hurriedly slid prostrated down on the leaf covered hillside they checked their guns and stood up when they reached the bottom of the hillside.

"I have- ." "Thirty-six rounds." "In the MP40." Mikhail announced breathlessly as he was running alongside the men.

"I have-." Cesslo was cut short of announcing how many bullets he had in the Walther and Luger as he was struck in the upper right shoulder by a bullet. Blood sprayed forwards when the bullet exited from Cesslo's shoulder and embedded itself into Mikhail's calf. As bullets struck around the men and they fell to the ground the Walther fell out of Cesslo's hand and rebounded off of The Old Man's leg. He shuffled along the ground and picked it up, aimed at the German who was firing at them from the hillside, and as the German was about to call for backup while descending over the hill, The Old Man shot him square in the face. His body fell limp and his neck snapped on a tree limb on the way down. This resulted in his helmet flying off and rolling towards The Old Man. It came to a stop when it tapped his boot. He picked up the bloodied helmet and put it on his head. With both of his arms he dragged Cesslo and Mikhail away from the battle zone and placed them behind a thick grove of ferns. As he set the men down he picked up the MP40 off of Mikhail's chest.

"I have to leave you guys here for now while I go and determine where the best place is for us to escape without sustaining any more injuries." The Old Man told them.

"I will be-." The Old Man stopped his sentence as a German sniper shot off his helmet.

The helmet flew off of The Old Man's head and hit a rock. The Old Man quickly dove behind another rock.

"Where is he?!" The Old Man exclaimed to Mikhail.

Mikhail panicked when The Old Man asked him this. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glare off of the Nazi helmet as the sunshine broke through the grove of trees. The reflection was casting off from a medallion that was on the soldier's helmet. Mikhail stared at the reflective medallion and caught a glimpse of the shine from the sniper's scope. He rearranged the picture into his mind, because it was a reflective image and he calculated the distance a little further than what it appeared on the mirror-like medallion.

"He is at my four o'clock at one hundred and twenty yards!" Mikhail shouted back as the sniper fired another shot nearly missing Mikhail's leg.

The Old Man breathed shallowly and held in a breath of the crisp air. He let out half of his breath and peered carefully over the rock and fired off two rounds into the direction of the sniper. The sniper fell dead and his body hit the ground hard, snapping tree branches, and landing face first in the mud. His heart exploded when the two bullets hit with pinpoint accuracy within inches of each other. A soldier who was racing up to hand the sniper more ammunition saw his comrade fall lifelessly and heard the gun shot from The Old Man's MP40. He yelled out,

"Amerikanisch!"

"American!"

The Old Man vaulted over the rock and picked up Mikhail and Cesslo who was now in a labored breathing state. He carried them as far as he could, but collapsed as his foot got caught in a pot hole. All three of the men fell on top of one another and they could hear the German's running towards them. The Old Man prayed, "Lord, you are my warrior, my inner strength, my life. Protect us with your unfailing grace and have your vengeance upon them. We are helplessly outnumbe-."

The three soldiers could feel rumbling in their bodies as they heard voices in front of them yell out, "Hold position! Draw your fire towards the Germans! I believe those men are ours!" An American Marine commanding officer named Peter Lunsfeld instructed his men. The Marines had an armored convoy of M-41 tanks advance towards the position of The Old Man and his prisoner of war comrades. The twenty deuce and a half trucks were coming to a halt a mile away from the battle. The Germans were laying down heavy fire from the tree lines with artillery ordinance and .30 machine gun fire directed at the trucks. The bullets from the .30 caliber machine gun ripped across the forest and tore through the canopies of the camouflage trucks. Many of the Marines were instantly killed as the bullets went through their faces and bodies rendering them dead on impact. As the men poured out of the sides and backs of the trucks they were helplessly slaughtered. A squad of Marine, heavy machine gunners ran a few hundred yards from the firestorm of bullets and set up their machine guns along downed tree trunks and rocky out crops. One of the men was setting up his bi-pod as another loaded his B.A.R. The man who was setting up the bi-pod was killed as a piece of bark was uplifted from a bullet's impact and lodged into his head. The man who was loading his B.A.R. was stunned by the rest of the debris, but managed to set up the rest of his gun. There were only three heavy machine gunners as they unloaded on the German infantry who were running towards them. German upon German fell atop one another as they were riddled with hundreds of bullets within the six minute set up of the guns. A German spotted the last truck cutting across the forest and he lead his shot as it advanced towards the convoy. He clicked his scope gauge for 450 yards and adjusted the wind gauge then he took in a lungful of air. As the truck made its way along the forest path the sniper let out half of his lung capacity and prepared the shot. He slowly squeezed the trigger and fired the shot. The bullet screamed alongside of the trucks and whizzed past 40 Marines' heads. It cracked through the windshield of the truck and split into the driver's head, exiting out of the rear of the truck and killing four men. The rest of the men hurriedly jumped out of the back of the truck as the driver became rigid and slammed on to the accelerator with his foot. The front end of the truck clipped the back of another truck and then sped down the meadow hurriedly advancing towards The Old Gray and his men. Artillery shells bombarded the area and disabled many of the M-41 tanks. One of the engineers of the tanks turned to his left to aim at a German machine gun emplacement which was on top of a hillside. The muzzle of the tank intercepted the speeding truck during its rotation and it tore through the entire truck splitting it horizontally in half. As the German sniper ran to change position, the Marines who were situated behind the tree opened fire on him. The bullets winged past his face and embedded into the dirt to his left. The tree bark ripped across his face and got into his eyes. He quickly prostrated himself onto the ground, but was not quick enough, because a Marine sniper held him in his sights after he had shot the truck driver. Before he had a chance to let the German's body fall into a watery ditch and escape danger, the Marine sniper shot the man in the chest. On his way down to the ground the German's grenade belt got hung up on a branch. One of the steilhandgranates on his belt activated and blew up his body just as a bazooka soldier was arming his recoil-less rifle. The shrapnel from the grenade exploded his hand off. As the shrapnel was tearing off his hand, the pain receptors in his body squeezed the hand shut which shot off the armed round that was in the bazooka. The missile flew over The Old Man's head and blew up a tree which was right next to him. A large, ten-foot piece of the tree was sent hurdling into the air. The Old Man was impaled into his chest by the tree-shrapnel. He reached up into his chest as the searing pain ensued and after he felt the large object that was protruding from his chest he passed out.

Chapter 14: The Final Pathway

The Old Man was awakened into a groggy state of mind. His ears were stuffed with cotton to prevent blood loss. He could hear a faint, high-pitched noise fading in from his left. He heard a door open and footsteps advancing towards him. In a panic he reached along his waist for his Walther. It was not there. All he could feel was his bare skin and the cloth of a gown which ended at his knees. He tried to get up off of the bed on which he was laying on, but he felt the resistance of a metallic bar and the straps on his legs, which were in place to prevent his chest cavity from rupturing the sutures. The footsteps stopped at his bedside.

"Sir, do you know where you are at?" A lady's voice announced this into his ear.

"What do you mean by 'do I know where I am at'?" He said back.

"You are in a military hospital, sir." The lady replied.

"What happened to me?" The Old Man asked.

"You suffered from dehydration and starvation along with critical blood loss from an injury that you sustained a week ago in Germany." The lady said.

"Where are my men at?" "Cesslo, and Mikhail?" The Old Man asked in a shaking voice.

"They are in the infirmary. Cesslo is in critical condition and we had to amputate his arm, because gangrene set in due to his arm being infested with bugs and stagnant water which was used to cleanse the shoulder wound. Unfortunately, he became paralyzed due to his spinal fluid loss and brain injury. He was lucky to have held on that long after such a massive injury. Mikhail is in critical condition as well and we had to bandage his eyes and leg." The lady said.

"What?" The Old Man replied in shock.

"What happened?!" The Old Man screamed.

The alert bell rang on the wall which hung in The Old Man's room.

"Excuse me; I will be right back, sir." The lady replied.

She ran out of the room and it became silent. The Old Man listened to the fabric of the hospital ward's canopy flap gently in the wind. He could hear crickets and other critters in the distance of the base camp. The sound of an eagle which was circling overhead of the medical tent searching for rodents was distant. The door opened again and the lady returned to the bedside of The Old Man.

"Sir, I have a telegraph letter for you. Do you want me to read it?" The lady asked.

"Yes, please." The Old Man replied.

"To whom it may concern,

My name is Lee Johnson. I received word that my father was injured and that he might be in the area of the Black Forest of Germany in one of the hospitals. I have been searching for him for 26 years since he divorced my mother when I was thirteen and I would like this letter to be read to him if he is located in one of the hospitals.

Dad, I love you. I know that you and mom suffered through an agitating marriage – especially after I was born out of wedlock, but I want you to know that I do not harbor any unforgiveness towards you any longer. I was an atheist at the time that you left and I became angry towards you and mom and God, but a few years later my life changed for the better. I was walking to work one day and I happened to drop my pack of smokes as I reached for my wallet to take out change for the bus fare. As I reached down to pick up the cigarettes I was bumped into from the rear and fell onto my face. As I turned over onto my back I glanced up into the glaring sun and my eyes met the most beautiful woman that I have ever met. She apologized repeatedly and I coyly said, 'How about you make it up to me by taking me out to dinner.' We dated for three years and I married her on November 22. To that end, I also would like to congratulate you on being a great-grandfather. I have sons and a daughter. My boys' names are Jason and Lonny, and my daughter's name is Loranna. Both Jason and Lonny married a set of twins who are from Wisconsin. Jason has a son named, Lauren, and Lonny has a daughter and step-son whose names are Michelle, and George. On the other hand, Loranna has chosen to stay single and became a nun at St. John's Cathedral in Walspringer, Montana. I am letting you know that I love you very much and so did mom – she passed away from tuberculosis back in May, before the war started. She never remarried and did not date anyone else since your divorce from her. I converted to Christianity in the years after your divorce from mom. I forgive you, dad. I would love to see you one day again soon when you make it to the States. God be with you and keep you strong during your healing.

-Lee"

The Old Man took a few moments to reflect on his marriage and his son's letter. He broke into tears and cried for a few hours before falling asleep.

A month and a half went by as The Old Man regenerated his strength and went through physical therapy. He was dismissed from the hospital on August 14 and he thanked God that he did not have to spend the rest of his life bed-ridden. As he traversed the base camp he was approached by an officer.

"Sir, I need you to come with me." The officer said.

The Old Man was escorted across the base camp in a jeep and he and the officer walked into the general's tent.

"Sir, I want to thank you for your dedication and honorable valor in the midst of combat. I have the honor by the president to distinguish you with the Congressional Medal of Honor and a purple heart for your unprecedented service in the United States Army. I also would like to present you with a $2,500 pension and would like to let you know that the United States Army has decided to pay for you to live anywhere in the world you would like until your deceasing. Thank you for your service and for saving the lives of Mikhail and Cesslo." The general said.

"Thank you, General Addams," The Old Man said as he gave a salute of respect towards the man.

He was escorted out of the tent and to the barracks.

Chapter 15: Living in Peace

November 18, 1960. The Old Man woke up and stood out from his chair. The fire was smoldering and the rain was dripping from the eaves of the cabin's roof. The sun was easing itself over the horizon and Rob stretched out his arms over the back of his chair and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The two men locked eyes and Rob said,  
"Wow! That was truly riveting! I cannot believe it's not butter!"  
"Yes. It is a hard life that I have lived. I feel blessed to know you, Rob."  
"Likewise, brother."  
"If you will excuse me, I have to see Kristine about a horse."  
Rob winked at The Old Man.  
"Sure go ahead. I'm gonna get the fire relit and start brewing coffee."  
"I have to leave in half an hour to meet up with Darcy to discuss our 'problems'."  
"Okay, I think I will spend my day introspecting about my past and what God has done. Maybe I will stop by Macy's if it does not get too late or hectic... you know, the day always throws an unexpected curve ball. Nothing ever goes as planned. The good Lord said to not leave Him out, though. He'll provide an answer and we just have to accept it, you know?"  
"Ya. See you in a minute."  
Rob and The Old Man parted ways. Rob walked over to the cabinet and pulled out the coffee.  
"Ah ya, this is the stuff."  
As Rob put the coffee beans into the coffee maker the phone rang.  
"Do you want me to answer the phone?" Rob yelled.  
"Yes," The Old Man muttered from within the bathroom.  
"Hello?"  
"Hello, yes this is Robert."  
"No, he is not. Can I take a message?"  
"Mhmm..."  
"Uh huh..."  
"Will do. I will let him know."  
"Thanks, you too. Bye."  
Rob hung up the phone and went back into the kitchen to check on the coffee.  
The Old Man walked in.  
"You know, a watched pot never boils, right?"  
"Ya, but I am so tired I just need it to hurry up. Got a long drive home. Can't freak out if a deer runs in front of my jeep."  
"Wow! That steak did not sit well," The Old Man said as he opened the screen door and ripped a fart.  
"That was a beaut'," Rob replied.  
"I heard that the Folgers's guy got killed the other day."  
"Really? How did he die?"  
"He got decaffeinated."  
"Ha!"  
"This sure is the stuff, though."  
"That's why I buy it. It is my energizer bunny. I can run off this all day."  
"Who was on the phone?"  
"It was Lee. He said that they are 10 hours out. They were crossing the border as we spoke."  
"Awesome! Praise God! Cannot wait!"  
"The weird thing is, that it sounded like there was yelling in the background. Like cops were screaming, 'Get down, now!' or something of that nature."  
"Coffee's just about done," The Old Man said as he took the pot off of the burner."  
"Black with extra sugar, please," Rob said.  
The Old Man retrieved the sugar from the cabinet and turned the knob on the radio to the classics station. The Beach Boys were playing as he hummed along.  
"Nah."  
He turned the radio to KZZH News.  
"—Save $400 when you sign up today for our sweetest deal to date. Now, through January, you can spend a week in Vegas in any hotel of your choosing. You will also receive a free limo from the airport to your hotel. Walk into our assembled model condos and get your timeshare today! Act now! Offer ends January 1 at 12 AM."  
The Old Man walked to the kitchen table and sat down. Rob joined him and sipped his coffee.  
"Do you want to open the screen door and let in the fresh rain air?"  
The Old Man nodded his head, yes, as he tilted it back and let out a sigh while closing his eyes and sipping his coffee. Rob opened the screen door and Cali walked over to it.  
"Go potty?"  
Cali pranced outside to take care of business and then she came up the stairs and lay on them by the entrance. She perked her ears up and growled as two mule deer ran through the tree line.  
"Stay, Cali," Rob warned her.  
She growled louder, but remained steadfast on the stairs."  
Rob walked back into the cabin and caught the broadcaster talking.  
"This just in... at 9:00 the border patrol announced that they are investigating a call of, 'Shots fired, and the disappearance of a motorcyclist after a hit and run with a sedan,' the police mentioned that they checked the irrigation canals and the fields in the surrounding area, but do not know what happened to the man's body. Stay tuned for more details."

"Wow, very interesting... is it the rapture today?" Rob asked.  
"I will be gone soon enough. And, no it is all a part of God's planning. Everything in and of itself happens for a reason."  
Rob walked over to refill his coffee. As Rob picked up the coffee pot there was a loud crash at the back porch.  
"What was that?" Rob stated.  
"I do not know, let's check it out," The Old Man said.  
"The sugar... no!"  
"What?" The Old Man asked.  
"I cannot leave to go outside without more sugar."  
"Oh."

Rob and The Old Man walked steadily towards the back porch. The grandfather clock ticked on in synchronization with their footsteps.  
"Rob, grab my .40 from the drawer," The Old Man commanded.  
Rob quickly rushed over to the cabinet and removed the pistol from its holster.  
He handed it to The Old Man. The Old Man pulled back the action to put a bullet into the chamber and readied the pistol at his side. He turned the safety off and said,  
"Stay behind me and do exactly as I say."  
"Okay," Rob responded.  
The Old Man positioned himself alongside the doorway and waved his hand for Rob to move to the other side. The floorboards of the porch whined as they were pressed down.  
"Shotgun and rifle. In that clock," The Old Man whispered.  
Rob glanced to his left and saw the clock.  
"Push in the side of the clock, firmly. It should release and you can grab the guns."  
Rob walked gently on the balls of his feet to the edge of the clock. He ran his fingers along the right edge until he felt an indentation. He pressed his palm into the indentation and the side of the clock clicked open. He pulled out the shotgun and Mosin Nagant rifle. The screen door flung open and in walked a masked man. Rob was still behind the clock and was not spotted, but The Old Man was.  
"You! Up against the wall with your hands up and legs spread apart!" The man said.  
"You guys are so ignorant to proper search and seizure. What you are looking for you will not find. If I am it then good luck trying to apprehend me!"  
The man struck The Old Man in the back of his head with a pistol.  
"Show it, now!"  
The Old Man cowered low to the ground.  
"Please, I will do anything! Don't kill me!"  
The Old Man looked back towards the tall, dark man towering above him.  
"You tell us where it is and there won't be an issue," the man said.  
"Yeah sure, that's what they all say," The Old Man said.  
The Old Man shifted his body away from the wall and hung his head between his legs. He reached between his legs and aimed the .40 pistol upwards. He pulled the trigger and fired into the man's right shin. The bullet screamed through his bone and ejected out, embedding itself into the drywall.  
"Ah! Son of a –!"  
The man collapsed to the ground as The Old Man scrambled to get up from the ground. He ran around behind the renegade and pulled his neck back against his shoulders and killed him. The man's eyes blinked a few times and then closed as they rolled to the back of his skull.  
"Run upstairs, Rob! Quickly!" The Old Man exclaimed.  
Rob lugged himself up the stairs with the two guns grasped tightly in his sweating hands. The Old Man ran to the cabinet and removed the pistol holster to put the gun into it. He stuck the holster into his pocket and opened the stairway closet. He dragged the deceased body of the soldier into the closet and took his pistol from him. He slammed the door shut and ran around the base of the stairs. Rob aimed down the stairwell as The Old Man ran up the landing.  
Four more masked men burst in through the side doors,  
"In my room!" The Old Man commanded.  
Rob handed The Old Man the Mosin, and he cocked the chamber to put a buck shot shell into the shotgun. Rob followed closely behind The Old Gray into the master bedroom. He faced the stairs and aimed the shotgun at it as The Old Man situated himself. The Old Man walked into his closet and gently pushed aside the clothes. Rob stood behind him and scanned the hall and kept his index finger gently hovering over the trigger. He raised the shotgun to his right eye as footsteps ascended.  
"Quick!" Rob stated.  
The Old Man waved Rob inside the closet and shut the door gently. He felt the wall until his fingers ran into the right hand corner. There was a click and The Old Man pushed the wall inwards.  
"Where is he? Find him!" The squad leader yelled.  
"Caveman, check the master bedroom!"  
Caveman walked into the room with his double barrel shotgun. He was a tone, six-foot tall brawler who never lost a skirmish with opposition. His calloused, white skin glistened with sweat in the dust-ridden sunlight. His blue eyes glared down the barrel of the shotgun as he searched around the bed and under it. He got up from crawling on the floor as the squad leader walked in.  
"What are you doing? There is no time to play with dust bunnies! Get up!" He stood up and checked the bathroom. As he looked behind the door and in the bathtub he heard a popping sound come from within the bedroom.  
"Huh? Is that you, John?"  
"Who is there? Squid, is that you?"  
He abruptly ran into the room and heard the noise once again. That must be from the closet. He thrust open the door and threw aside the clothes.  
"What?"  
"There is nothing in here, Squid. No one is here!"  
"There nothing, Squid! No is here!"  
"Can they hear us?" Rob asked.  
"No, this is a secure safe room. I installed cameras in every room and outside security counter measures so that I can know what happens when this day came to be. I knew it would be when I least expected it, but they least expected that I already knew."  
"Also, that is a soundproof wall that we walked through. It has steel-plated armor with titanium reinforced hinging. Without my fingerprint touching the right hand corner no one has authorization to enter. If an individual such as yourself tries to gain entry then there hand is severed off and fixed to the wall with a hydrochloric acid glue. After that, tear gases and mustard gas are simultaneously released through a ventilation shaft that is separately ducted into the cabin to suffocate and incapacitate the individual. That's not all. A 'disposal door' will open to deposit the body in an under-cabin furnace which cremates the body with a 700° Fahrenheit blast."  
"Wow."  
The telephone rang. Rob viewed the monitor as one of the men walked by the living room phone.  
"How come he is not startled by the phone?"  
"This is a secure line—."  
"Hello?"  
"Dad, we are four and a half hours away. Just checking in."  
"Lee, I need you to stay overnight in a hotel. Motel 6 to be exact. I will wire you money for the night."  
"What is going on? Is everything okay?" Lee asked.  
"I have encountered a problem, but the repairman said he can have it fixed in the morning." The Old Man said.  
"It is really stuffy in here and my ventilation system malfunctioned. I lit a fire in the fireplace last night and awoke to a suffocating plume of smoke. I don't want the grandkids to suffer... with their asthmatic issues and all."  
"Oh, okay. We are pretty tired anyways." Lee said.  
"Okay, got to go, bye." The Old Man said.  
The Old Man hung up the phone and promptly dialed: 6, 4, 3, 9, 1, 1, 4, 6, 6, 3, 2, 7, **#*.  
"Roger that. Yes. Yes, now!" The Old Man said.  
"Over and out."  
"Who were you—," Rob said.  
"Doesn't matter. I need to get to work," The Old Man said.

Chapter 16: Coming out of Retirement  
"Ah, yeah. Been retired too long," The Old Man said.  
The old pressed a red button on the underside of the table. All of the monitor feeds combined into one signal and there was a long beep as the signals were boosted. The feed's static faded into a video display which had the coordinates of SW by NE at 56° by 12,690 feet. The image also displayed a five mile wide township approaching fast on the horizon.  
"Roger that, Whiskey team. We are inbound," the pilot of Bluebird stated.

"Move, move, move! If you can drink 15 beers in half an hour then you can move 15 clicks in half an hour!" Greyhawk leader yelled.  
"Sniper team in position."

"Assault ready."

"Heavy ordinance ready."  
"Comtel 96' ready."  
"Bluebird is ready to lay an egg. Over?"  
"Roger that, Bluebird, prepare for Crack-Shell. Over and out," Greyhawk leader announced.  
Frogman crawled cautiously over the berm. He lifted the sheath off of the long-barrel. He then untied his sweaty bandana off of his forehead and wiped it in the dirt. He set the M19A1 rifle in the crevice of the rocks as he wiped the muddied bandana along the barrel.  
"In position."

"Roger that Frogman. Stay sharp. Over and out," Greyhawk leader stated.

Frogman lifted the gun up in the air and depressed the switch on both sides of the rifle's stock. The spring-loaded bipod released onto the rocks. He clicked the scope to 500 yards and breathed shallowly.

"Bluebird has reached the nest. Over?" the pilot stated.

"Roger that, Bluebird. Standby. Over and out," Greyhawk leader said.

The monitors in the safe room faded from an aerial view to a horizon view. Two truckloads of soldiers were on approach to The Old Man's property.  
"We have heavy dozers inbound. Over?" The pilot of Bluebird stated.

"Roger that, I can see them. Do not engage until we know if they are friendlies. Over?" Greyhawk leader said.

"Roger. Over and out," the pilot said.  
"J-dog, I need heavy A-till on Old Gray Drive. Four clicks west. Over?" Greyhawk leader commanded.  
"Affirmative, Greyhawk. Over and out," J-dog said.

The trucks which were closing in fast stopped abruptly. Greyhawk leader positioned himself above the trucks on a rocky outcrop. He unfolded a small dish-like device from his utility pack. He flipped up the switch on the back of the unit and powered it up. He connected the diodes from his battery pack to the signal transmitter. The crackling on the Comtel faded out as he fine-tuned the device.

"Yeah, we need to apprehend him and interrogate the old fart," Suspect One stated.

"We gotta move fast. Alpha squad is already inside, but they said they cannot find," said Suspect Two.  
"How is that possible?" Suspect One said.  
"I don't know. The U.S. Army has some pretty legit technology and architects," Suspect Two said.  
"Perhaps there is a safe room or underground escape tunnel that he used," Suspect One said.  
"Radio that to Alpha Dispatch. Tell them to look for anything that looks out of the ordinary," Suspect One said.

"Okay," replied Suspect Two.

Suspect Two unbuckled his seatbelt and reached across the dash to uncouple the communications telephone.  
"Alpha Dispatch, this is—,"

Frogman scratched his ankle on a rock underneath his foot and took his rifle off of safety. He held his breath and released it slowly and waited. 15 seconds felt like 15 minutes, but he had done this hundreds of times— Still doesn't get any easier, he thought. He flipped the scope to thermal vision. Two figures appeared on the horizon. The trucks glowed red hot and the men inside sat unexpectedly. He scanned the perimeter for anything out of the ordinary. His eyes glanced at a heap of heat at 400 yard out to the north. He hovered his index finger over the curvature of the trigger. The mass of heat that he was staring at dispersed suddenly. The birds flew off of the mossy grass. He placed his finger onto the trigger and squeezed slowly. The shot startled him as the bullet instantaneously hit its target with a puff of dirt. The bullet traveled across the front of The Old Gray's cabin and struck through the breast of a crow. It tore the crow in half and shred through the moss of the renegade soldier's helmet. His helmet caved inwards and blew the top half of his skull out. A little bit of bingo, Frogman thought. The trucks' engines shut off and the heat signature faded from Frogman's thermal sight. This did not last long, because there was a large flash of light. It blinded Frogman momentarily and he rubbed his eyes from the shock. The J-964 longhead missile tore through the canopy of the first truck as 15 men poured out of the back of the second vehicle. One of the men tripped over the tailgate and landed in the dirt. His leg broke at the femur and protruded through his kneecap. Frogman aimed at the man's leg and shot the rest of it off, picking the bone clean. The man screamed in shock as his leg was sheared off and landed a few feet to his left. The blood profusely poured out of his wound as he scrambled to connect his leg back onto his knee. Frogman shot him through the right rib and the soldier's collarbone ejected through his heart from the impact. Fragments of the collarbone lodged into another soldier's right eye as he desperately looked into the horizon to see where the mortars were firing from. His head exploded a second later as Frogman shot him. His body lay limp as the fire from the debris of the truck's chassis crept up and consumed his body in fire.

"Targets neutralized," Frogman said.

"Roger that. You are going to have heavy resistance headed your way. Over?" Greyhawk leader said.

"How copy, Greyhawk?" Frogman replied.

"I can see a hawk inbound along with three Abrams Lincolns, and one more truck. Over?" Greyhawk said.

Frogman took a deep breath and sighed. He signed the cross over his chest with his right hand.

"Roger that. Over and out," he said.

Frogman set aside his rifle and threw his Javelin missile launcher over his shoulder. He set it down hard onto the rocks. He unzipped the casing and unsheathed it. He took the safety capping off and attached the harness to his chest. In the distance echoed the reverberations of the helicopter which contained two squadrons of the renegades. Frogman's heart raced and the sweat poured off of his face and stung his eyes. He propped the Javelin on his shoulders and turned the guidance screen on. It whirred briefly and the horizon came into view on the viewfinder. The whirring became more pronounced against the thick tree line and the Abrams tanks could be heard rolling towards The Old Gray's cabin.  
"Bluebird, status? Over?" Greyhawk leader said.

"We are at the ready. Over?" The pilot said.

"Roger that. I have three Abrams Lincolns inbound in your area. You should be able to see them on thermal. Over?" Greyhawk said.

"Affirmative. I see them on black heat. Preparing to engage. Over and out." The pilot said.

"What are we going to do?" Robert asked.

"We will sit and wait. Let our boys take care of the dirty work," The Old Man said.

"What if they misfire a missile and it hits us?" Rob asked.

The phone rang.

"Hello?" The Old Man answered.

"Hey, this is Macy. Are you coming over tonight?" She said.

"I apologize, but I encountered a problem. A huge problem. I will tell you about it later. Sorry, can't make it. Have a call on the other line," The Old Man said.

"Bye," Macy replied.

The Old Man clicked Line 2.

"Yes?" He said.

"Mhmm..." he muttered.

"Just do what you have to. I authorize everything in your disposal," he said.

"Over and out," he said.

Greyhawk leader and Whiskey team nervously scanned the skies. The tanks were a ways out, but the sound was unnerving.

"We are sitting ducks!"

"Quiet, soldier. Do as you're trained and no complaining. Army Strong!" Greyhawk said.

The squad yelled in unison, 'Army Strong,' back to Greyhawk. The renegade's helicopter pilot switched his visor thermal, white hot.

"Let's get this... son of a b—,"  
"Enemy locked on!"

"Deploy flar—"

Frogman's eyes adjusted from the stinging sweat. He aimed the Javelin high above the tree line and allowed the ballistics computer to register the distance to the helicopter. 400 meters, 320 meters, 200 meters. System ready. He clicked direct attack and fired the missile. It soared through the air as both Frogman and Whiskey team watched it strike the helicopter above their heads. The rocked impacted through the windshield of the helicopter and exploded as it breached the weapons compartment towards the back of the chopper. The men inside were killed instantaneously as the shrapnel tore their limbs and bodies apart. The helicopter tore in half as the rotor blades ripped trees apart. The debris pelted and tinged off of Whiskey team's helmets. The explosion was deafening and the tops of the trees were blown off at the impact site.

"C'mon, c'mon! Open!"

The renegade soldier fumbled for his ripcord as he fell towards the ground. He deployed his reserve parachute and floated to the tree line. The explosion above him nearly stopped his heart as flaming fallout fell around his body. He was struck in the thigh by a burning stream of engine oil. It seared through his uniform, skin, and ate away at the bone. The skin and cartilage charred with the black oil. He screamed until his breath ran out, and his chest shook with the amount of pain that he experienced. He landed in the river and rolled against the rocks. He quickly unloosed the parachute and let it float away. He took handfuls of the river water and rubbed the wound vigorously to wash the oil out. When he touched the wound a third time, he nearly blacked out.

"Holy—!"

"What the f—!"

He pulled himself up on the shoreline and sat down in the mud.

He swung his gear pack over his shoulder and unlatched the medical kit from it. He saw a stick lying next to him and he picked it up and put it into his mouth. I can do this. C'mon! He opened the medical kit and removed the alleviating gel. He popped the inner seal and slathered it onto his wounds. The gel contained Aloe Vera and moisturizers in it and it soothed the pain. He tore open the package of gauze and wrapped his thigh tightly. The wind blew gently across the water and the breeze tickled his face. He became numb to what was happening around him and he lost sight of reality for a few moments. He sat in awe at the beauty which was harnessed before him. A trout jumped out of the water and ate an unsuspecting fly. Ha! Man, I wish I had fish tacos right now. Filipe would've speared that fish and cooked it with lime and sea salt for his infamous tacos. Dang! There was a brief popping noise in the distance and he dove to the ground. He reached down towards his waist and unharnessed his pistol, then he loaded a magazine into its base. He grabbed his shotgun off of his back and loaded an incendiary slug into it. Okay, here we go! He mustered up some courage and crawled to the edge of the river. It passed slothfully in front of his face and snaked south towards Panama. He crouched and tread through the water. The coldness bit at his thigh and he winced in pain. He raised his shotgun above his head as he waded neck-deep across the river. A crayfish hung onto his pocket when he reached the other side and he shook it off. He belly-crawled towards a hillside and started to ascend it. He crawled halfway up and tried to stand up on the incline, but fell onto his chest. That didn't work. He established his footing into a snake hole and glanced over the edge of the hill. He excessively scanned and re-scanned the surroundings for anything or anyone out of the ordinary. The trees and bushes trembled in the wind. He looked closer at an outcrop and noticed a section of foliage which seemed peculiar. I better inspect that before proceeding back to my men. He took a sigh of nervous hardenedness and the dirt got in his nose. He tried to stifle the oncoming sneeze.

What was that?! Frogman pulled out his combat knife from his boot.

"Greyhawk, I might be compromised. Over and out," he said.

"Roger, checking thermal. There should only be you up there. Tanks are still inbound. Over and out."

Frogman held his knife in his hand and brought it underneath his chest. A tree branch snapped underfoot and Frogman held fast in the prone position. The movement behind him came closer and closer. His face was pressed in the dirt and he felt hands grip around his neck. He thrust the knife over his shoulder and stabbed the renegade in his forearm. The man flinched, but quickly resumed trying to break Frogman's neck. Frogman leapt forwards over the embankment and toppled downwards with the renegade. They fell for 20 feet and the renegade landed in front of Frogman. Frogman grabbed a large stick and swept it across the renegade's face. His jaw broke and Frogman jammed the stick through the man's neck. When his body fell to the ground, Frogman stepped on the back of the renegade's neck and lodged his face into a tree root which protruded from the ground.

"Enemy eliminated," Frogman said.

"Confirmed," Grayhawk responded.

Frogman jogged up the hillside and crawled over the rocks to grab his gear.

"Relocating to ¼ mile west at 600 yards north."

"Confirmed. Over and out," Grayhawk stated.

"Why is this happening?" Rob asked.

"It is a long story, but we have time," The Old Man replied with a hardened grimace.

"Do you recall the soldier who I ended up drowning in bleach?" He said as he rubbed his dog tags.

"Yes."  
"Well, he was an artist of not only killing, but paint and sculpturing as well."

"He was the Assistant Creative Director to Hitler. Being the A.C.D meant that he instructed Hitler with tips for his paintings."

"Hitler painted?"  
"Yes, before he became a dictator one of his ambitions was to become an artist. This was short-lived, however, because he was denied entrance into the Vienna academy of Art when he was a young adult."

"Really?" Rob asked with widened eyes.

"Yes, after becoming the leader of the Nazi regime he found the most talented artist in the region to instruct him."

The Old Man took a sigh as the battle waged on outside of his cabin. He poured a glass of water from the dispensary beside his control panel and sipped the drink. Rob looked impatiently at his watch and wondered if he would make it home in time to discuss with his wife the details of their divorce. Will I make it home alive? His thoughts were interrupted by The Old Man coughing heavily.

"Are you okay?" Rob asked.

"Ya— just— coughing on my spit. I hate that," The Old Man said.

"Me too," Rob laughed.

The Old Man regained his breath and said,

"Do me a favor and open the hatch under that box."

"Okay," Rob said as he pushed back the rolling chair.

Rob moved the wooden box aside that said Fragile contents written in red ink and unlatched the clasp on the hatch. He opened it.

"There's nothing inside."

"Oh yes there is. Plant your feet inside."  
Rob stepped down onto the two foot by two foot platform.

"Now, feel the wall for a concaved surface underneath the lip of the hatch," The Old Man said.

Rob felt the underside of the hatch and found the indentation.  
"Now what?"  
"Press it in three times and hold it for thirty seconds on the third press."

Rob did as he was told and descended into the hatch. The lid closed automatically and the box slid itself back into place. The Old Man turned on the monitor and Rob was in the gallery.

"Whoa!" Rob exclaimed as he viewed what was around him.

The lights shone on an array of ten oil painted portraits of Hitler. In the background was a glass case which was overshadowed by a cottage painting that Hitler did in 1919. Rob walked up to the glass case and peered inside. The reflection on the walls surrounding the case amazed him as he stared at the diamond-encrusted Luger.

"What?"  
"Yes, Rob. This is what the renegades are searching for. Now, lift up the case," he said over the intercom.

Rob grabbed the gloves which hung on a nail on the side of the case and put them on. He lifted up the glass and there was a momentary whirring sound as the Luger sunk down into the case. A manifesto slid over the top of the Luger as it was deposited into position autonomously via a plywood plank that situated itself over the gun and clicked into place. He scanned over the text.

"Really?" Rob said with a shaking voice.

"Document 1069RAFDC. It details terrorist attack plans for the years following the war. The terrorists planned a bombing on the Capitol Building in D.C. After the bombing they were going to exterminate all children in the United States under 10 years of age."  
"Who were these guys?" Rob asked.

"The men who have convened on my land are the remnants of the E.N.E. paramilitary group. The Elite Nazi Extremists is what they are known as. They run missions alongside Al-Qaeda today and are in the midst of the Illuminati New World Order as well. Hitler let the whole of the WEO or World Extremist Organization through his reign, but after he killed himself the neo-Nazis established their ENE factions. They are still being tried and executed for their war crimes and attempted extermination plots to this day. These guys are the real deal and not people to mess with."

Rob's hands shook as he put the manifesto back into its place and shut the case. The manifesto disappeared again as the plywood retracted and the Luger rose to the top of the case. He walked back up through the hatch and walked up to The Old Man.

"This is some serious stuff!"

"Yep."

Rob sat down in the seat.

"Do you mind if I use a pen and paper real quick?" He asked.

"I do... for what purpose? I don't feel comfortable with you writing stuff down after seeing what you saw. Those are confidential items, and only three people know about them. I do, the President knows, and now you, because I trust you.

Rob sat in silence for a few moments as tears welled up in his eyes. He reached for the pen on the desk and carefully pulled out a sheet of paper from his torso pocket. It crinkled slightly as it came out of his pocket and he stopped his hand and cringed in fear. The sweat from his brow dripped onto the paper as he started to write shorthand for what he had just seen. He eyed The Old Man every few moments to make sure that he was busy with the monitors. After he finished writing his shorthand script he placed the paper on the ground beside him. He pulled out his cell phone and turned it on silent mode. He made sure the key press noises were turned off and he dialed: 4, 4, 6, 9, 3, 2, 7, 1, 1, 9, 0, #, #, #, ***, #, #, #, ***,#, #, #. He then gently blew into the microphone and put the cell phone up to his ear. He heard the blowing into the microphone on the other end and cleared his throat. The person on the other end cleared their throat as well in confirmation that there was a good connection. Rob laid the phone in his lap and rested it between his legs. He took the pen and started tapping. He hummed the tune of the Das Reich Wird Leben and tapped while he did this. The Old Man paused momentarily from writing down the coordinates which were displayed on the screens in front of him. As he listened to what Rob was humming he started to rub his dog tags violently. His hands shook and he was struck with a chill of fear and then a wave of frustration and anger. Rob finished humming the tune and stood up from his chair. He removed his tie and pulled the edges of it to retrieve a long steel cord. He wrapped his hands with the cord and pulled it taut.

"Rob, are you okay?"

Rob did not respond back.

"Rob?" The Old Man asked as he reached under the desk.

He unhinged the spring of the drawer and a gas-triggered switchblade knife fell into his palm. He coughed and pressed the button simultaneously and the blade came out. He waited anxiously until the floorboards behind his chair creaked. The floorboards creaked and he slid himself into Rob and thrust Rob against the wall with the chair. Rob hit The Old Man on the head as he pushed aside the chair. The Old Man ducked to the ground and stabbed Rob in the ankle and thigh. Rob fell to the ground and The Old Man leapt on top of him. He broke Rob's wrist and threw aside the garrote. He pressed the knife firmly against Rob's neck.

"How could you? How could you betray our lifelong friendship like this?" The Old Man shouted as spit fell onto Rob's face.

"I had my orders. I was to follow through or my family would die. I did not think that this day would come, because I was given them by the ENEs after Hitler killed himself. They found out that you resided in Signawunder and saw that you and I hung out every Sunday at Macy's. One day they apprehended me and held me hostage for 3 months in a barred up barn in Santa Loa. They would not feed my or give me anything to drink unless I divulged all that I knew about you. I had to tell them our service years together and where you lived now. The only stipulations for my escape and freedom for the lives of my family was if I killed you when they came to your cabin. I called up the leader the other day and mentioned that I was at your residence for the evening and would be there when they arrived the next day. I love you, I really do, and I understand if you must kill me now, please give me an honorable burial," Rob cried out.

The Old Man's body shook with adrenaline and fear.

"This is not honorable. You should have died when they captured you. We both went through interrogation school together. We served on the frontlines and shed blood for our brothers and country. We fought for freedom and honesty. We stood by our brothers as they breathed their last and watched as children were slain in the concentration camps. I cannot believe you would do this! You risked national security and my life. You risked the lives of my son and grandchildren and you have abolished everything that you and I once stood for and laughed and cried about! May God rest your soul," The Old Man firmly replied.

With that The Old Man depressed the knife into Rob's throat as tears streamed down his face and his slit his arteries. Rob's neck burst onto The Old Man's face and the walls which surrounded the two men were covered in a thick coating of blood and ligaments. The Old Man stood up and threw up in the corner of the room several times. He shook violently and threw the knife across the room. It lodged itself into the drywall and rang out with a metallic vibration as the knife shook as it was pinned to the wall. The Old Man prayed,

"Father, I have done everything that I could in this life. I have stood amongst your sheep and slain the wolves. I have walked a long road of trepidation and anxiety and you have stood by my side my whole life, yet I will never understand why these trials and persecutions took place. I will never understand nor forgive myself for killing Rob just now, but I ask that you would forgive me of all of my sins. I hate the killings that I performed in a frenzy of brainwashed vulgarity and spite. The military warped my mind into becoming a killer. I cannot ever justify what I have done, even if it is to protect the citizens of the United States and to uphold the honor which I am supposed to feel about my acts of service. I don't understand why I have constantly been thrown into situations in which I have to kill my enemies. Why can't you take this torment from me? Why does the pain still live on though you have forgiven me? Why is my sense of being not restored? I love you, but feel so distant from your inner and outer workings on my being and soul. I ask that you would show me guidance during my last few days, because I sense that my time is near. I thank you for my family and the life that I have lived, I thank you for the trials which made me a stronger man. I thank you for the good times and the blessing of my cabin and land. I thank you that this will all be over soon and I will come up to meet you face to face. Be with me and my soldiers outside of my cabin. Guard us with integrity and bless us with your Mighty Sword. Kill our enemies and wipe out the blood of our transgressions. Be with us every day and guard the soldiers who are working in the faith. Let us dawn the armor every moment so that we will not fail. Let us have compassion for our enemies and love and gratitude for our family. Give them understanding in what they do not grasp yet. Protect us and shield us.

In Jesus' Name,

Amen"

The Old Man stood up and signed the cross over his chest. He walked back to the monitors and pulled the bloodied chair up to sit down.  
"Whiskey Team, I spot two tanks heading towards you. Preparing to engage."

"Roger that, Bluebird. Fire at will."

The pilot locked his thermal vision onto the tanks. He flipped two red switches on the console. He pressed the flashing green buttons down and the weapons system engaged. The Warlock missiles spun out from the undercarriage of the helicopter. They whirred in excitement as the engine came to a low idle. The pilot held the helicopter in a smooth hover and swayed to the left around two pine trees. The tanks ate the ground steadily and were advancing towards the soldiers of Whiskey Team. One of the tank engineers raised the muzzle towards Whiskey Team. As his men prepared to engage, the pilot of Bluebird fired a Warlock at the tank. The missile struck the tank on the top of the entry hatches. Within half a second the next missile fired and struck the other tank. The first tank billowed with a thick cloud of smoke. The second tank was sheared into three chunks. The pilot saw three men jumping out of the first tank and running towards a grove of trees. They opened fire on Whiskey Team. The pilot deployed a smoke screen bomb and blinded the renegades. His copilot engaged them with a belt of .50 caliber Gatling gun ammunition. The men were cut in half and one of the soldier's heads rolled up and over the embankment. Enrique Solidaz ran up to the renegade's head and kicked it between the groves of trees where two trees intersected to form a 'V' shape. All of the soldiers from Whiskey squad screamed out,

"Goaaaaaaal!"

"I had a feeling you would do that," Whiskey leader said to Enrique.

Bluebird dropped off the last squadron of soldiers. The men deployed on fast ropes towards the ground and as they landed they banded together to scan the perimeter for any hostiles.  
"Grayhawk, Navajo is on big ground ready to strike. Over?" Navajo team leader said.

"Roger that. Let's move. Stay sharp men!" Grayhawk leader announced to Whiskey team, Navajo team, and his men.

"Over and out," Grayhawk stated.

"Over and out."

"Over and out."

The three squadrons of soldiers crawled towards the cabin. The air was still and the smell of a burning deer carcass enveloped the men. The tall grass swayed steadily as the breeze kicked up. The tree branches scratched against one another adding eerie noises to the already disturbed environment. The men were 40 yards from the cabin.

"This feels strange," Enrique stated.

"Roger."

The renegades held fast as the Marines closed in. The soldiers were 20 yards from the cabin and Frogman was on over watch. Enrique's arm got caught on a threaded wire and as he lifted up his shoulder his body was blown in half. His intestines landed on top of the soldier next to him. The renegades opened fire on the Marines.

"Shots fired. They're in the grass!"

The Old Man spun around towards monitor 4. The 40 renegades were prone positioned behind his concrete garden wall. They were firing M16 and .50 caliber machine guns into the Marines.

"Frogman, open fire and suppress them while I get ready. It will be one minute max!" The Old Gray shouted over the comm.

Frogman brought out his Barrett rifle and loaded in a 15-round magazine of high penetration, hollow point ammunition. He opened fire upon the renegades. His first shot took out two guys. The second bullet blew through the wall and went through one of the soldier's heads. The bullet exited through his back and separated him in half. The concrete which ejected out of the wall embedded into another soldier's face. He screamed and toppled over the wall as he tried to run away. One of the Marines launched an M16 grenade into the man and blew him through the wall of the greenhouse. The glass shards fell from the ceiling and penetrated the soldier's carcass with hundreds of fragments. His body lay immobilized into the ground as a piece of metal framing stabbed through his chest and erected itself in the air on top of him. The Marine followed the grenade with a white phosphorous grenade. The gray and yellow-striped canister soared through the air and exploded as it struck the dirt where the first man had died. It lit up the area with a white powder and four men were engulfed by the cloud. They died several moments later with boils and blistered skin upon their bodies. Their faces were eaten away and the flesh fell in charred clumps onto the ground. One soldier who saw the aftermath gagged and took his pistol out. He put the gun up to his temple and screamed in fear. His hand shook as he slowly squeezed the trigger. Before he could pull the trigger he was startled by the ground moving beneath his feet. The gravel and dirt separated and fell inwards. There were three separation points behind the garden wall where the soldiers were firing behind. One separation point was at the Far East end. One separation point was between east and west. Lastly, there was a separation point due west.

"Goodnight, guys! This will teach you not to mess with the U.S. military!" The Old Gray exclaimed.

He depressed the three flashing red buttons on the command console. From within the ground ascended three .50 caliber Gatling guns. They locked onto the heat signatures of the remaining renegades and opened fire. Within a few moments they were all dead.

"What just happened? Did I just see what I think I saw?" Grayhawk leader asked.

"Ya, that was legit!" An E-7 officer exclaimed.

"Sick!" Targets neutralized, chief!" Grayhawk yelled.

"Roger that! Now, get me out of here!" The Old Man commanded.

"Affirmative. Moving in," Grayhawk responded.

"Whiskey Team. You are with me. We are taking the flank. Navajo squad, you are breaching the front. Let's move, move, move!" Grayhawk commanded.

"Bluebird, stay stable. Be prepared for heavy extract, because I am not sure what we are still in for. Over?"

"Confirmed. I am in the fields to the east. Over and out."

"Frogman, take point on the west side of the cabin and overlook the perimeter. Over?"

"Affirmative, Grayhawk. Moving now. Over and out."

Whiskey squad and Grayhawk descended towards the cabin. They ran for 300 feet and dug in to crawl the rest of the way along the outer perimeter. Navajo squad set up a breaching charge and lined up on either side of the cabin's front door. The renegades inside were clueless to their awaiting demises. Frogman sprinted across the tree line. He set himself up in a tree and put up a camouflage blind.

"In position. Valley and highlands are clear, Gray," he said.

"Roger. Over and out," Grayhawk said.

There was a deafening explosion on the outer side of the cabin. Everyone hit the ground and covered their heads.

"Frog, what the frick was that?" Gray asked.

"It looks like the shed blew up... ya, it did, but I don't see any— wait, there is a Humvee on approach coming down Old Gray Dr. Three tangos... got 'em," Frog replied.

Frogman read the display on the scope and it said 400 yards and decreased in number as the humvee closed in towards the cabin. He adjusted the scope for the slight breeze and watched the trees in the distance. He waited until the trees were nearly still and fired the first shot. It tore through the driver's chest and exited out of the rear of the humvee. The driver slumped over in his seat and jerked the steering wheel to the left as he died. The vehicle flipped over in the irrigation ditch and rolled over on its side six times. The grenadier accidentally fired his RPG as the vehicle rolled and it demolished the vehicle leaving nothing but a smoldering blood bath.

"Enemies neutralized," Frog said.

"Over and out," Grayhawk replied.

"Okay Navajo... attack on 'Tango'," Gray stated.

Grayhawk and his men sat on opposite sides of the screen door. Grayhawk hugged his rifle to his face as he became startled by the 7:00 PM chime on the grandfather clock. There was a cacophony of footsteps which echoed throughout the wood flooring.

"Gray, there is a renegade in the living room who is currently rifling through my drawers. The other three men are upstairs. One in the master bedroom who is rummaging through my closet and trying to enter where I am, one in the hallway supervising the downstairs floor, and another by the window at the west side of the hallway. Over and out," The Old Gray said.

The phone rang in the command center.

"Hello?"

"Dad, I just want to say that we made it to the hotel. We are settled in and going out to eat soon. See you in the morning," Lee said.

"Okay, the repairmen are here now. I will see you in the morn'," The Old Man replied.

"Love you, bye," Lee said.

"Hang on, someone wants to say hello," Lee said.

The phone scraped against the hotel desk and then was picked up again.

"Hey, grandpa! How are you?"

"I am good. Few problems being taken care of, but I am so excited that you guys are coming to town!" The Old Man said.

"I am thrilled!"

"Love you, bye. Here's dad again."

"Okay," The Old Man replied.

"See you tomorrow, dad," Lee said.

"Bye," The Old Man said.

He hung up the phone. Grayhawk put up three fingers on his right hand. He held up his fist closed to have his men wait.

"Tango."

Grayhawk and Whiskey squads rushed into the cabin. Navajo breached the main door and tossed in two flash grenades and one smoke grenade. They were pinned down by the heavy machine gunner who was overlooking the lower floor from the stairway. Frogman had a shot on the guy by the window and he blew the guy away. The machine gunner was startled as the body of the soldier crashed to the floor. Grayhawk took the advantage. He shot the machine gunner two times through the chest and managed another shot to his head as his body collapsed to the floor. The soldier who was in the living room put his gun on the ground and raised his hands in the air to surrender himself over to the Marines.

"Get against the cabinet, now!" Grayhawk shouted.

The renegade stood frozen in fear and in shock and one of the Marines pulled out his Taser and stunned the man.

"My boss said to get against the cabinet, punk!" He said.

The renegade who was messing around in the closet with the safe room entrance reached up to touch the fingerprint scanner. He stopped short of a few inches as his fragmentation grenade fell off his beltline after getting hung up on the edge of the shoe rack. He became frustrated that the noise might have blown his cover so he crawled out of the closet on his hands and knees. He crawled to the corner of the landing and rested his back against the wall. He pulled the pin on the grenade and accidentally dropped it in his lap. He was able to quickly retrieve it and tossed it over his right shoulder over the railing.

"Grenade!" Grayhawk said as it fell towards the men.

He jumped onto the grenade. The look in the men's eyes was of horrification. It seemed like slow motion as Grayhawk grimaced his last moments of anticipation for his death. The soldiers opened fire upon the renegade. One of the Marines threw an incendiary grenade. It bounced off of the hallway wall and clipped the renegade's leg. The explosion consumed his body in flames and he toppled over the stairwell to his death. Grayhawk laid immobilized in fear as the grenade clicked. His face turned sheet white. After a few moments in perplexity he stood up and the blood coursed back into his face.

"It— it was a... dud! Ha, it was a frickin' dud!" He exclaimed.

"Praise God!" The chaplain shouted.

"Enemies neutralized! Area clear!" Grayhawk said.

"Roger. Coming out to Mother Freedom," The Old Man said.

The Old Man surfaced from within the safe room. Grayhawk came up the stairs as The Old Man came around the corner with the shotgun and Mosin in hand.

"Well sir, our job here is done," Grayhawk said.

"I can have the repairs done by the morning, unless you would like to relocate," Grayhawk said.

"Ha! I've lived here for too long. Never. That would be appreciated, however," The Old Man said with a smile.

The Old Man excused himself and walked outside. The smell of burning flesh and the sight before him was ungodly. He took a deep breath, smiled, and walked back into the cabin. He walked upstairs.

"I'm taking a nap," he said.

He closed the shattered master bedroom door. He walked into the closet and shut the door to the safe room.

"Goodbye ol' pal," he said to Rob.

He took his clothes off and tossed them into the laundry chute. He got into the shower and turned on the water. As he stepped into the shower the blood which was caked onto his skin flaked off and went down the drain. He sat in the shower on the floor for several hours and cried as the water turned to ice and the blood continued to flow down the drain. The smell of the blood emanating from the drain made him throw up. He stood up and washed the rest of his body and then exited the shower. He rubbed his dog tags as he dried off and then pulled on his Army uniform. He pulled back the sheets of his bed and collapsed on top of it. His eyes closed and he fell asleep.
Chapter 17: A Sweet Reunion

A man and three young males walked up the driveway. The man walked around the perimeter of the cabin towards the newly remodeled shed. He ducked underneath a tree branch and stopped when he reached the rear of the shed. He squatted down and picked up a heart-shaped stone which lay against the edge of the shed. He set the stone aside and swept the dirt away which revealed a small box. He carefully removed the box and blew away the remaining dirt. He stood up and pushed the stone back into its place with his right foot.

He walked back to the front entrance. As he stood at the doorway, Cali ran up to him and barked aggressively. She was covered in dirt and grime and her hair was slightly singed from the explosions.

"Whoa, girl. Easy," the man said as he backed away.

Cali approached the man apprehensively and then leapt onto his shoulders.

"That's a good girl," the man said as Cali licked his face.

"Go inside?" He asked.

Cali paced to and fro and whined softly. The man opened the box and removed a brass key from it. He opened the front door and walked in. The three males followed behind him and Cali. The man walked around the corner of the living room.

"Dad... dad?" He asked.

"Dad," he said once more shaking The Old Man's shoulder.

"Dad, wake up. It's Lee," Lee said.

The Old Man groggily said, "Hey, what's up?"

"Grandpa!" The grandchildren shouted in unison.

"Hey boys, how are you?" He asked.

"Good."

"I'm great!"

"I'm okay."  
"Well, get settled in. Stay awhile, won't you?" The Old Man asked.

"Yes, sir," Lee said.

"I am glad that you made it in safely. I see that you found your way in," The Old Man said as he got out of bed.

As he stood up he rubbed his dog tags.

"Let's make some coffee, shall we? Discuss the days of old?" The Old Man asked.

They descended down the stairs to the kitchen.

"Smells like fresh wood," Lee said.

"Ya, the smoke destroyed a lot of the cabin. I had to get it replaced," The Old Gray said.

"Wow, how did you get all of this remodeled over night?" Lee questioned.

"We'll talk about it later," The Old Man said.

"Okay," Lee replied.

"Boys, go ahead and unpack your belongings. Grandpa and I are going to chat for a while," Lee said as he sat down at the dining room table.

The grandkids walked upstairs to their room.

"I see you still have mom's china set," Lee said.

"Yep, I've kept almost all of her stuff. I have the china, the photographs, and every love letter. Yeah...," The Old Gray said as he stirred his coffee.

There was a silence that crept into the room as The Old Man clanked his spoon against the side of his coffee mug. The footsteps of the grandchildren could be heard scurrying around upstairs. Their laughter brought a smile to The Old Man's face. He became teary-eyed and wiped his face with the coffee-stained napkin.

"Reminds me of when you were young," The Old Man sobbed.

"Ya, I remember that like it was yesterday," Lee said with a smile.

"You have to let it go," Lee said.

"Among other things," The Old Gray replied.

The Old Man fell to the floor and wept aloud. Lee pushed back his chair and walked over to his dad. He placed his hand on his dad's back and kneeled down next to him. He reached up and grabbed the steaming cup of coffee from the edge of the counter.

"Drink, dad," Lee said.

"I just need a moment," The Old Man said.

"Okay, I will be in the living room," Lee replied.

Lee stood up and walked back towards the living room. His eyes glanced at the Blue Willow China which lay in a heap of dust in the cabinet. His thoughts flooded with memories of his mom and he started to walk away into the living room.

"Son," The Old Man said.

"Yes?" Lee replied.

"Come here," The Old Man stated.

Lee walked back to where his dad was and put his hands under his dad's armpits.

"Need some help getting up?" Lee asked.

"Nope. Nope, I got it!" The Old Man sneered.

"You've always been stubborn," Lee said.

"I was born stubborn," The Old Man laughed.

The Old Man stood up and took a drink of his coffee. He walked over to the china cabinet and opened up the glass doors. He removed a glass container from the cabinet. Lee looked at what was inside the container and shivered.

"Are you cold, dad?"

"No, Georgie, daddy is fine. It's time for bed, so have Johannasse tuck you in and read you your book. Grandpa and I will be there soon to say goodnight," Lee said.

Georgie walked upstairs and Lee could hear the door shutting to the grandchildren's bedroom.

"Dad, why did you and mom split up and divorce?" Lee asked.

The Old Man sat down with the glass container and opened the lid. He removed three toy alphabet blocks from the container and set them on the table. He aligned the red, 'A' block with the two blue, 'G' and 'Z' blocks. He sighed deeply.

"As funny as this sounds it all began with these three blocks," The Old Man said.

"I think I know where you are going with this," Lee said with a cracking voice.

"It will be better to formulate my thoughts and write them in a letter for you to read tomorrow morning," The Old Man said.

"Okay, let's say goodnight to the boys," Lee said.

The Old Man and Lee walked upstairs to the bedroom. Lee opened the door and the light from the hallway woke up Georgie.

"Goodnight, son," Lee said as he brushed back Georgie's hair.

"You're sweating. Do you feel okay?" Lee asked.

"Ya, I think," Georgie said.

"Let me get you a trash can just in case," Lee said as he walked into the bathroom.

He walked back towards the edge of the bed and placed the wastebasket next to it. He started to walk away and The Old Man walked past him. The Old Man knelt down and prayed for Georgie.

"Goodnight, son," The Old Man said.

"Goodnight, grandpa," Georgie replied.

The Old Man walked out of the room and closed the door. He walked to the bathroom and grabbed his toothbrush and razor. As he glanced in the mirror while brushing his teeth he rubbed his dog tags. He finished up and took a shower. As he got out of the shower, Georgie was waiting near the bathroom door. He knocked on the door.

"Grandpa?" Georgie asked.

The Old Man jumped as he was startled,

"Oh, frick! Who's there?"

"It's me, Georgie."

"Oh, hello."  
"Grandpa, who is Justin Case?" Georgie questioned.

"Justin who?" The Old Man asked.

"Dad said that he would get me a trash can and said the name of a man called, Justin Case, afterwards. Is he an old Army pal?" Georgie asked while looking up at The Old Man rubbing his dog tags.

"Georgie my boy, that is an expression," The Old Man said.

"Expression?" Georgie asked.

"Yes, an expression is what we use in English to add to a sentence. Your dad said, 'Let me get you a trash can just in case,' and what he meant was in case you get sick," The Old Man said with a slight smile.

"Oh, how funny!" Georgie exclaimed and slammed his foot on the ground a few times.

"Sh...sh... keep your voice down. People are sleeping. Now, go to bed," The Old Man said as he hugged Georgie.

"Yes, grandpa," Georgie replied.

"Goodnight," The Old Gray said.

Georgie walked back to his bedroom while The Old Man walked downstairs. Lee had the fireplace lit and roaring and was watching the flames. The firelight flickered against The Old Man's body and cast a large silhouette on the upstairs hallway. He walked to the kitchen and turned out the lights. He opened the drawer on the china cabinet and removed a notepad. He grabbed a ballpoint pen and sat down in his chair next to the fireplace. Cali got up from the bear rug on which she lay and rested her head on The Old Man's lap. He gently scruffed her chin and she kissed his calloused hands. She removed her head from his lap and rested her body on his feet. He opened the flue several times with the handle that extended from the wall and the fire roared as more oxygen was let in. The Old Man glanced over towards Lee. Lee was asleep with his legs stretched out and arms folded across his chest. He snored loudly and spoke in his sleep,

"No, mom..."

"Don't leave... mom," Lee grumbled.

The Old Man opened up the tattered notebook and began writing his letter to Lee.
Chapter 18: The Disappearance

Lee awoke from the chair. In his lap rested a manila envelope addressed to him. He stood up and walked upstairs to check on the children. They were still asleep and there was vomit alongside the edge of the bed and across the wastebasket. Lee closed the door and went to use the bathroom. He took a shower and brushed his teeth, then he combed his hair back to spike it up. He shaved and slathered on his favorite Brute aftershave. He cleaned up the mirrors and the wash basin and then proceeded downstairs. As he was walking downstairs he heard the distant barking of a dog which came in through the screen door. Lee walked into the kitchen and noticed that the burner for the coffee was still on. He shut it off and poured a mug full. Next to the coffee was a note.

Lee, 6:00 AM

I will be home within the hour. Cali and I are scouting for deer. I brought my gear pack and rifle with ammo in case I have to stay overnight. I also have a pup tent and two jackets, because the Signawunder Gazette said that there might be a snowstorm tonight. If it gets really bad I will be home within 24 hours... if not, then call a coroner.

Love,

Dad

Lee posted the note to the refrigerator with a magnet. He put a time stamp of when he read it. It was 6:33 AM. He opened the cupboard and took out the frying pan and non-stick cooking spray. He took the eggs and milk from the fridge and grabbed the Hershey's chocolate sauce. He fried six eggs over easy and poured five glasses of chocolate milk that he made from the chocolate sauce. Georgie, Lonny, and Johannasse walked down the stairs.

"You boys ready for breakfast?" Lee said with a smile.

"Yes!" They cried out.

"Have a seat and it will be right up. You got up at the perfect time," Lee said with a wink.

He finished cooking the eggs and set the plate in the center of the table. He gave each of his sons a glass of chocolate milk and he set his two glasses at the end of the table. They said grace and ate the food.

"Can we be excused after we eat to go outside?" Lonny asked.

"Yes, but make sure you are in sight of the cabin at all times. Wear your jackets and come inside if it gets too cold for you. Understand?" Lee warned with a glare of intimidation.

"Okay, dad," Lonny replied.

The boys finished up their meals and ran upstairs to get their jackets while Lee got up and stoked the fire. He turned on the radio and played the classical music station softly. The children came downstairs and went outside. As they went out of the screen door the music on the radio was interrupted.  
"We interrupt this broadcast to provide a warning. At 6:00 AM there was a large storm cell spotted heading towards Signawunder. All citizens are warned to stay indoors and make a fire to stay warm. This storm cell is capable of large amounts of snowfall and blowing winds up to 50 mile per hour. Any and all errands must be done within the next hour. Thank you."

Lee walked back to the refrigerator and grabbed a grape soda. He peered out of the kitchen window and shuddered as he observed his sons playing Civil War with sticks and cardboard. I hope dad is on his way back home now. It looks bad outside. Lee walked back to the fireplace and opened the envelope. He removed the letter and began to read it.

Lee, November 20, 1960

It is with a sullen heart that I write these words down. For 33 years I have kept hidden the truth of why my marriage with your mother failed. First off, I was the culprit... the foul-mouthed, disrespectful drunkard that ended what could have been a lifetime of joy and love together. The blocks that I pulled from the cabinet symbolize the destruction of my life and your respect for me as your dad. These are stumbling blocks. If you will recall the first instance in which you heard me lash out at your mother that is where it all started.

I arrived home from training the troops and had just walked in the door. As soon as I set my keys down on the table I heard a crash upstairs. You started to scream and I ran up the stairs. I panicked, because your door was locked so I busted through it. You were passed out and there was blood all over the furniture and the floor. Your ankle was broken and when your mom walked upstairs after arriving home from work, she screamed in horror at what she saw.

'Why did you break the door in?'

I was flustered that you were injured and I picked you up and carried you to the car. Your mom still was upset about the door and she couldn't frickin' get over it. I grabbed a towel from the backseat of my car and wrapped your ankle to stop the bleeding. I told your mom,

'If that is all you are going to harp on, then stay at home with the dogs!'

She cried and ran into the house screaming and shouting. When I got you situated in the hospital, I called your mom. She said,

'I am going to Lucy's for the weekend.'

That night I came home and put you to bed and I pulled out the Jack Daniel's and drank the rest of the bottle which was ¾ full. That was the start of my alcoholism.

Your mom arrived home on Monday night of the following week and she saw the bottle in the trash and questioned me. I told her that if she really cared about me then she would shut up and show respect. A year later she said that she had met a man while I was in France and she was divorcing me.

It has been a long and arduous road through Hell and back, but by the grace of God I am here today. I have found that the blocks represent the cycle of life. 'A' and 'Z' represent A-Z and the 'G' block represents God. You see, when you have to go from point 'A' which is being born into this world, and you travel through time all the way to point 'Z' which is old age, then God, 'G', is the only driving force. I have felt like shooting myself after getting drunk one last time or just ramming my truck head-on into a tree outside of my cabin when I am on the way to Macy's Diner on Sunday's, because all I think about is the war and my sin... what I did, who I killed, and Mikhail and Cesslo's lives which were lost when it should've been me.

Anyways, I love you, pal. I am glad that I am finally able to get this off of my chest. God's blessings and grace to you while you travel from A-Z.

-Dad

Lee set the letter aside and walked back to the kitchen window. He looked outside and the snow started to fall gently. The ground turned from green to white as he stared blankly into the foggy distance. The birds were quiet and the children's laughter was muted and dull. His head started to throb and his heart raced inside of his chest. He walked to the screen door and yelled,

"Kids, time to come inside. The weather is getting bad!"

5:50 PM

"Ah man, it's freezing, huh girl?" The Old Man asked Cali.

Her tail swept the snow off of her back as she treaded through the thick ground.

"I think we will go a little further and turn back, but we might have to set up camp," he said.

Cali barked at a passing deer. It leapt over a shrub and some fallen trees and tore into the distance.

"They sure are prominent this year, huh?" The Old Man asked.

The Old Man and Cali continued for another half an hour. The Old Man set up camp. He pitched the tent and rolled out his sleeping bag. He set a fire at the base of a wooded incline and cooked a ground squirrel that he shot. The squirrel roasted on the flames and the smell was striking.

"Smells delicious!"

Cali looked at him earnestly as he pulled the squirrel off of the stick. She barked at him.

"Hey, you be nice! Ask properly and you will be rewarded."

Cali laid down and whimpered softly.

"C'mere."

She got up and laid across his lap. He pulled off half of the meat and fed it to Cali while he ate the other half.

"Praise the Lord, oh my soul."

Cali barked aggressively as a few branches snapped in the distance. Her ears were perked up and she stood at attention with her tail erect. She growled louder and louder.

"It's probably just a ground squirrel. He's like, 'Okay hon, you've been gone long enough. Time to come home.'"

The Old Man nervously laughed at Cali.

"It's okay, babe. You're fine."

A few more branches snapped off of the trunk of a pine tree. There was scratching noises that echoed in the canopy of the trees.

"Okay... maybe it is bigger than a squirrel. Probably just a deer bedding down for the night and shedding its antlers on the trunks."

The Old Man fell asleep by the fire several moments later. Cali kept attentive on the noises which echoed ominously, yet grew closer by the minute. Cali whined and ran over to nudge The Old Man's arm. He woke up and grabbed his rife.

"Where is he? I'll get him! Oh, Cali, what's wrong?"

She nudged him and barked into the direction of the noises. The Old Man raised his rifle to his chest and pulled the trigger. The animal was startled and ran towards him. Cali leapt towards it and she was knocked aside into a tree. The animal growled loudly and paced around the fire. The Old Man pulled out a burning log and waved it around at the beast and screamed. It roared back at him. It made a loud whining noise and out came four bear cubs from within the hillside where The Old Man was positioned next to. They cried and ran from the cave towards their mama. They ran off into the distance and The Old Gray said,

"Ya, that's right! Get out of here!"

The Old Man sat down after he caught his breath and said a prayer to God. He waited for an hour until the fire burned down and he got into his tent to sleep.

In the morning The Old Man was awakened before dawn. Cali licked his face and welcomed his company. He got up and unzipped the canopy and pushed aside the four feet of snow which embedded itself along the tent. He stretched his arms above his head and hiked up his boot straps.

"You ready girl—"

There was a loud crackling noise overhead of him and Cali.

"What?" He said while looking up.

"Run! Cali, Ru—!"

10:00 AM

The cabin's premises were being searched.

"When was the last time that you saw him?" Sherriff Karla asked.

"He left me a note and said that he went out to scout for deer. He said that he would be back within 24 hours max, but I thought he would be home within the hour," Lee responded.

"I don't get it. He is very communicative and I find it hard to believe that, knowing there was an incoming storm, why he not be home within an hour, or just check for some deer tracks near the house, but not too far?"

"Sir, you are in shock," Sherriff Karla said.

"Please, have a seat. I am going to discuss with the search and rescue team what we are going to do," she said.

"Please, he is in his eighties and has a disability. This is terrible!" Lee frantically replied.

Sherriff Karla walked away and went to her truck to retrieve an emergency blanket. She walked back into the living room and wrapped Lee in the blanket.

"Can I get you a cup of Joe?" Karla asked.

"Yes, please," Lee responded.

Karla walked to the kitchen and poured two cups. She put heavy cream and two sugar cubes into both mugs. She walked back to Lee.

"Thank you," Lee said.

Lee drank the coffee and fell asleep an hour later. He had been up the entire night awaiting his dad's arrival home. Three hours later Lee woke up. He pulled off the blanket and noticed that his lap was filled with blood. He ran into the bathroom and took off his pants. He filled the bathtub with hot water and rubbed his pants in them and then rubbed his pants on his face.

"Do you think grandpa will be home soon?" Georgie asked.

Lee drained the bloody bathtub and then threw Georgie down into the bottom of the bathtub. As the water drained and Georgie laughed, Lee grabbed the plunger and sucked it onto Georgie's face. He pressed it up and down and Georgie passed out. Lee stood up in shock and placed his pants onto his face and screamed into them as Sherriff Karla walked in to use the bathroom. She withdrew her revolver and told Lee to get on the ground with his hand behind his back. He threw the plunger and Karla who shot him in the arm. He screamed out,

"Ah!"

"What dad?" Georgie asked.

Georgie walked across the floor and embraced his arm around Lee's shoulders.

"Dad..."

"Dad!"

Lee awoke to Karla shaking his shoulder.

"You were screaming in your sleep," she said.

Lee looked out of the screen door to the porch light which flickered on and off. The interspersions of the snow drifted lazily towards the ground.

"What time is it?"

"It is 10:05 PM," Karla said.

"Have they found him, yet?" Lee asked.

"No, not yet," Karla responded.
Chapter 19: Search and Rescue

9:15 AM

"C'mon, Josiah, keep a steady pace," Luke said.

"Kelly, c'mere girl," Katie said.

Kelly ran up to Katie. She sniffed a red bandana that Katie held by her side.

"Track," Katie commanded.

Kelly ran ahead next to Luke and Josiah. She sniffed the ground and weaved back and forth amongst the trees. The snow fell heavy to the ground in clumps. The trees glistened and the reflectivity of the sun off of the ground was surreal and intense.

"How many more years can we take this hardship of losing people?" Katie asked Luke.

Luke focused intently on the landscape ahead and his eyes were still and expressionless. His face was serious and there was a slight twitch in his mouth every few moments from the amount of focus that he had. He looked up into the sky and muttered something indistinctly. He signed the cross over his chest and a load of snow broke from its balance on a branch and fell on his body.

"That was awesome," Katie laughed and said.

"God never ceases to amaze me."  
"Ya," Luke responded.

They walked for a few more miles and stopped at the edge of an embankment.  
"Sit. Stay!" Katie commanded to Kelly.

"Sit. Stay!" Luke commanded to Josiah.

The Golden Retrievers sat and snuggled side by side. Their butts touched and tails wagged. Kelly looked and Josiah and licked the snow off of his snout and chomped on the ice. Josiah turned his head away and pawed at his face.

"Hey, boy be nice," Luke said.

"He's a mirror image of your affections with me. Quite fitting if I may say," Katie said with a grin.

The sarcastic humor was masked by the eerie desolation of the sight before them. Luke and Katie stood in silence and desperation filled their minds. Katie started to tremble and panic.

"Whoa, babe. C'mere," Luke said as he wrapped his arm around her.

"I cannot take this any longer," Katie sobbed.

She cried into his shoulder as the tears and snot spread down his back. He didn't mind though, because he knows how to respect people with selflessness, even if it means a little tears and snot every now and then. The wind picked up fast. The snow sped along the ground like an earthen leaf blower on high power. Katie's eye caught the attention of a heap of snow with a pointed structure protruding from it.

"Look at that. What is that pointing from the snow?" Katie asked.

"I don't know. It is interesting. Let's check it out. Sure beats not seeing anything for the past 15 miles," Lee remarked.

They descended down the hillside. Kelly and Josiah ran down and sniffed the surrounding area. Josiah started to whine and scratch at the protruding object. He barked excessively in a high pitch to alert Luke that he had found something.

"Hold on, boy," Luke said as he raced down the hill.

He slipped on an icy rock and fell onto his butt.

"Whoa!" He exclaimed as his body caved into the bear's den.

"Oh shoot! Luke!" Katie exclaimed.

She ran over to the den and removed her .38 Special from its holster upon approaching the entrance.

"Luke?" She asked.

She aimed the pistol around the corner of the entrance and shined her flashlight into it. Being that she was an ex-swat team leader in New York, she knew exactly what to do. There was a large animal atop Luke as Katie came in through the cave.

"Luke! Push it off so that I can get a shot!"

"Ah! I'm trying! This thing's aggressive!"

Luke managed to lift it briefly above his chest as the raccoon dug into his skin with his claws and teeth. Its babies cried in fear as the mother continued to try and kill Luke. The raccoon dropped limp onto Luke's shoulders as its brain, ligaments, and skull fragments exploded onto the rear wall of the den. Katie shot the raccoon once more in the chest for good measure. Luke was in bad shape as he stood up. He had deep tissue lacerations on his pelvis, thighs, and chest. His eye was rolling loose in its socket and the iris was detached. He bled profusely from his right leg as the bone shard from his femur dripped with blood.

"I'm okay. How do I look?" Luke asked.

"Thanks for taking care of that raccoon for me, babe," he said.

Katie looked on with horror and disgust as Luke slumped forwards towards her. She dropped the revolver on the ground and reached out to grab him before he hit the ground on a protruding log. She laid him on a bed of dirt. She grabbed piles of snow and iced down his wounds. She ripped off her shirt and applied a tourniquet to his leg. She tied it tight as the blood gurgled a little and then came to a slow halt. She readied her GPS radio beacon and called Sherriff Karla.

"K, this is Katie. Over?"

There was a long pause of static which enveloped Katie's fears that they were alone with absent communication. She radioed again.

"K, this is Katie. Over? Do you read?"

After five minutes of static, Karla picked up the transmission.

"Katie, what's your status? I see you are 15 miles away. Did you locate The Old Man?"

"I am in dire need of an AirEvac. A.S.A.P. Luke is in critical condition. Over?"

"Confirmed. We are sending a chopper to your position now," the sheriff responded.
Chapter 20: The Rescue

The helicopter which was encircling the 30 mile radius of the property made a sharp turn towards the distress beacon. The pilot, a 40 year Air Force veteran, kept the aircraft steady at 4,000 feet heading due west.

"I've been flying since my pappy gave me a tour in his 1922 biplane," the pilot said.

"And, not once did he say that it got any easier or relaxing."  
Brandon Dunn was his right-wing man. He was a tough dude with scars all over his body from the 143 rescue missions which entailed danger and injury. Ever since he was an adolescent male, he sought out any form of reckless endangerment possible. This attitude of fast living and earn the money on your table attitude allowed him to bring home the dough with his hazard pay. In his 25 years of service in search and rescue he had never lost a person to the grip of Death's hand. They continued at speeds in which your grandma would be crapping herself, and they ascended over Abe Hills. A gust of wind blew upwards in the distance. The trees swayed forwards in submission and hung low under the authority of gravity. The air disturbance jostled the helicopter and jarred loose the medical/ rescue supplies container. Upon regaining control of the helicopter, the supplies container fell over and broke open in the bay of the helicopter. Simultaneously as the container broke open, an inflatable raft fell out and the quick-deployment nozzle was sheared off by a hatchet which fell onto it. Within several moments the raft unfolded, laid flat, and ballooned to full inflation. Five minutes later an alert sounded on the cockpit display.

"Bay hatch release imminent."  
"Bay hatch release imminent."  
"Warning: Bay hatch release imminent."

"What is going on?" Brandon stated.

He unlatched his safety harness and walked briskly to the rear of the helicopter. He opened the hatch that led down to the bay. He slid down the ladder and noticed that the raft was pressing up against the bay hatch release button. The lights in the bay flickered on and off in a red haze of disorientation. Brandon tried to maintain stability on the vibrating floor as the hatch came ajar. He ran over to the raft and yanked on it to remove it from leaning on the button. It would not yield to him, because it was lodged underneath the safety harness cabinet. He noticed the hatchet vibrating on the floor next to him underneath the raft. He picked it up and struck it into the rubber siding of the raft. It rebounded off the raft after his third blow and he broke his knuckles on the rip cord deployment line that hung from the ceiling. He muttered something indistinctly and bent down to reach for the hatchet again. There was a weightless jolt as he was thrown out of the opened bay door from an updraft of turbulence. He fell fast to the ground and fumbled for his radio beacon.

"I am falling! I am falling to the grou—"

The radio cut out and the beacon beeped four times and shut off as Brandon's heart rate decreased to a standstill. Brandon became impaled through the chest on a dead pine tree. His intestines draped over his right leg and he blinked one last time to absorb the afternoon sun. The pilot veered around 360°. His heart was racing in his ears as he brought the tree line back into sight. He saw a mass on top of a tree and soared towards it. As he approached, what he feared was coming into view, became a reality as he swerved around Brandon's corpse and crashed head on into a petroleum outpost. His helicopter burst into an inferno and sent a 350 foot plume of fire into the air. The trees were incinerated and Brandon's body was cremated into ash.
Chapter 21: Hopeless, but not Forgotten

Katie felt the boom in her chest as the helicopter exploded in the distance. Her face turned pale with fear, as she had heard that noise before during the saddest day of her life, when her husband and his crew crash landed on the tarmac at Luke Air Force base. She stepped outside of the cave momentarily to face the startling imagery which entangled her imagination. However, this time her mind and conscience paralleled in a distant harmony. The sight which was before her on the horizon to the east paralyzed her eyesight. The trees were ablaze and the birds and animals ran from the fire. Katie fell to the ground face first and cried out to God. She moaned and wailed and laid her head on the snow in dismay and frustration.

"Why! Why, God must this happen again?"

She felt a strong breeze blow from behind her as if the spirit of God was there to comfort her. In her conscience she thought, look up. In an act of obedience she lifted her head towards the horizon. The wind which was blowing behind her gusted to 400 miles per hour. She sat in awe as the wind warped around her body and the trees bent over towards the flames which unfurled their fiery fury on the surface of the forest and the helicopter's ruins. The wind shot across the flames and extinguished them with a popping sound. As the smoke drifted away and the ash settled, a helicopter tore through the air and came towards Katie's position. The helicopter landed in a clearing opposite to the cave. The engine whirred and the snow blew away from the ground in a radius of 30 feet. Katie ran over to the helicopter. The rescue crew opened the bay door and hopped out with a stretcher.

"Where is he?" One of the men asked.

Katie pointed to the cavern. The man and two others ran inside the cave. Katie closed her eyes tightly and suppressed a scream of distress. The men were indistinctly discussing something as they walked out. Luke was covered with a white sheet and the blood sopped through it. They approached the helicopter and brought him inside. They strapped the stretcher into the side wall carrier as Katie walked onto the platform. Tears streamed down her face as she sighed an icy breath.

"I guess that's it, huh?" She said as the helicopter lifted into the air.

The medic checked her vitals and hooked up an intravenous fluid line into her arm.

"Get some sleep. You are dehydrated," the medic said.

He stroked her hair and she closed her eyes and passed out.
Chapter 22: The Return

3:50 PM

Lee and the grandchildren waited outside by their van. Sheriff Karla stood by their side and gently rubbed Lee's back to console him. He shivered in anxiety and lit up a cigarette. As he puffed for a while and started to relax he could make out the sound of an approaching helicopter.

"He's here! They've found him!" Lee shouted as he dropped his cigarette onto the ground.

The helicopter landed beside the cabin. The Signawunder coroner's van and an ambulance approached from the dirt intersection onto Old Gray Drive. Lee looked on in horror as the bay door opened to reveal the stretcher. The coroner walked up with a clipboard to the bay door and waited for the stretcher to be brought to ground level. Lee hysterically ran to the stretcher. He tried to get next to it and pushed the medic and Katie aside.

"Dad! No! Please..." he exclaimed as he pulled back the sheet.

"Son, it's not..." the medic started to say.

"What! Who is this?" Lee shouted.

"Is this some sort of joke?"

"This man risked his life to find your dad. He was my partner for 26 years and had proposed to me yesterday," Katie said with distress.

"I apologize for your loss. I am so sorry that this took place. It is all my fault! Dang it, dad! Why did you risk your flippin' life over a deer hunt! Dad!" Lee shouted into the distance.

He hyperventilated and collapsed to the ground. The medic rushed to his side and lifted up his head. He checked his pulse as Lee's eyes rolled to the back of his head. The medic hooked an intravenous needle into Lee's arm and put water and fluids into his body. After 30 minutes he was placed in his dad's bed to rest.

7:30 PM

Lee woke up and kicked the sheets off of the bed.

"Frick!" He shouted.

His sons walked in and sat on the bed. They handed him a letter.

"Lee,

It is with deep regret that I write this to you today. I am afraid to say that after 48 hours of searching for your dad, the search and rescue team and I have concluded that your dad is unfortunately deceased. Considering that the temperatures were below zero over the past few days, there is reason to believe that your dad did not survive the blizzard. I have known your dad for over 20 years and I am devastated to have to write this to you. When the snow melts in the spring we will search again for his remains. I love you all very much and God be with you in your grief.

-Karla"

Lee sobbed heavily on the bed. He sat on the bed speechless and distant for 15 hours. He did not sleep. He did not eat or use the restroom. He did not move except for the heaving of his chest inwards and outwards in sorrow. His sons tried to keep distracted. They turned on the radio on low volume and the eldest son, Johannasse, suggested that they play card games. They played Texas Hold 'Em and Go Fish, but got bored after a while.

"I bet grandpa has a lot of secrets in here," Georgie mentioned.

"Let's adventure and find them," he said.

Johannasse and the boys walked around the home and looked everywhere. They looked behind the armoire, and the clock. They looked in the bathrooms and touched all of the different colored tiles. They looked in every likely and unlikely place. The odd shaped artifacts and the furnace in the living room were scoured for secret buttons.  
"I'm thirsty. I'll be right back," Georgie said.

He ran back into the kitchen to grab a drink. He tripped over the corner of the table and broke the table leg. It crashed to the floor and broke in half. Johannasse and Lee ran to where the table once stood. Everyone stood in awe as a gaping 10 foot by 10 foot hole was punctured through the floorboards by the oak table. The ceiling and walls in the kitchen shimmered brilliantly. Lee peered into the hole and gasped.

"Oh my!"

Georgie walked to the edge of the hole.

"Whoa!"

"Stay clear of the edges. I don't want you to fall in and we have another death on our hands," Lee warned.

"Gimme a hand then," Georgie said.

Lee lowered Georgie into the hole. His whole body shined as he walked across the 600 bricks of solid gold. He was amazed by what he stood upon, but also curious as to what lay inside the golden box on the other end of the hole. He walked up to the three foot wide box and pried open the lid.

"Dad, what are all of these pages?" He asked.

"How do you mean?" Lee responded.

Georgie lifted up pages which were earmarked in paint with the letters M.A.H.

"I remember my dad's tattoo on his right shoulder that had this acronym," Lee said.

Lee reached down his hand.

"Give it here," he said.

Georgie walked up to the edge and handed his dad the pages.

"They are weird feeling," Georgie said.

"Yes, they are," Lee said.

"Get me out of here, dad," Georgie said as he lifted up his arm.

Lee set down the papers on the edge of the hole and pulled Georgie out. He led his sons into the living room and started a fire in the fireplace.

"I have something to say to you guys," he said as he crouched by the fire and warmed his hands.

The boys sat next to him eager to hear what he had to say. They leaned close to their dad.

"My dad was a spiritual warrior for God. He was the most adventurous, yet hidden man I have known. He lived a life of secrecy and wealth, as we have come to find out today, but there is something deeper."

"His spirit was so in tune with God that he could see things that others cannot."

"Wait, what do you mean?" Georgie asked.

"Grandpa was blind since birth. These papers are written in what is called Braille."

The grandkids gasped in excitement.

"Can you read these?" Johannasse asked.

"Yes, when I was five, my dad taught me to read Braille."

Lee unfolded the M.A.H. documents and proceeded to read.

M.A.H.: Master Artifacts of Holigraphy

I am an American man. I used to be a wretched sinner in this land. No longer do I fright in the night, but in the Lord I make my stand. I am gripped by His righteousness and embraced in His arms of wonder. My eyes seek His face in all of its majesty and splendor. I never have to fear again. For I was saved by Jesus the Lord who wasn't just a man. He is God. Some might disagree. Some might be put through misery, but my God is great and I am no longer basking in worldly hate and anxiety. I live by my faith and God's vengeance will uphold me. I am only mere man, but I live boldly. I am not taken out of His sight under any given night, for His protection is might. The stars, galaxies, and moon all derive their presence from His hand... no evolutionary theory will stand. Forgiveness from past debts is always given in earnesty and integrity, and I will never leave myself blinded by life's scarring nature and the infrastructure of sin which will not win. No matter how hard we try, or how many millions of tears we have cried, Christ died and is risen, and my sin and yours is forgiven. We must not forget this fact or be led off track. We live in the midst of an ungodly world full of hate and spite. I know the truth will protect me in all that is right-- His truth, His word stands and I am no longer held to worldly demands. Every thought I think and word I speak must be given in accountance, but it is not a problem any longer-- a thing of the past due to my humbled repentance. I have served my last sentence. The story continues until I hit the grave, but know that the truth stands strong as both the noble and hindered man walks boldly into His plan. The night carries us away into dark alleyways. My pathway, however, is outside of those dark and sinful ways. I have stumbled in the drunkenness of sin, but it will not be the death of me... by God I will win! I will continue to walk and speak the truth that was taught... though fraught with evil thought, I have the power of Christ alive in me to remove myself from the self-seeking sin that I once sought. I know I must live for God as man ought. But, no one is as knowledgeable of who I am within except for the one true me and the God of eternity. Who said that, 'life is a game in a simpleton's plain'? No one understood. What's more is that there is a death in this experience. This death is not an exhilerance. It is a hindrance, the sin and death in Hell that you and the rest of Mankind could prevent under God's plan and will and pretense. Know this: you are not alone... as life is a 'drone within daylight and toward nighttime, you have a decision to make, not an incision, but the division to press forth the commitment to your soul and life force. Your brain is one thing, yet your soul will drown you into the depths of what you bring upon it. Bring yourselves as one in Spirit. It is God's voice... can't you hear it? Be not as you were, but understand that from the simplest to complex, it was all God's plan! Know this: you are not who you think you are. You are under God's law. It was given before He spoke it to be. You and me. We all are one in Him for eternity whether in the fires of Hell or the glories of Heaven. We may live in obscurity, but God put up His Son as security for our salvation-- our eternity. If He had ended it all then none of us would be here on Earth at all! He saw what He made and it was good. If it had been bad, and He second guessed it, this life would be nonexistent, and we would be dust in His breast. I must confess that I write by spiritual authority vested in me through Christ. It is not Paul, it is not Saul, this is Hans Neinhausen. I was born of a virgin. Not mother Mary, but by two parents in sexual unity who are merry. By faith I was conceived and God alone controls my destiny. I have faith, have won and lost, but all hope in Him is surely not comprised without suffering a sinful, yet repentant cost. I live in the flesh, though it is imprisoned. I do not live for it anymore. My flesh has been redeemed, because Christ is risen! If it weren't for his 'in I would be a non-existent nobody in this twister of fate, for the good, and glory of God and you: my brother and sister, I am here. I must also confess that I was once chained and bound, but my soul is set free to abound in joy in life, for I am no longer given to compromise and strife. I have been made wise. I am unique. My secrets are sacred to keep. This life has been a steep hill-- a battle. I have won, God has won, and my mind is no longer a 'rattle. Know that all we go through as humans is not in vain. I fact Jesus took all of our pain from us so that we can enjoy living in eternity when dead. Our spirit lives on though our life blood will be shed. He is the one who is to come so many have yet decided to follow. That is why there is hardship, distrust, and sorrow. It is not easy, this is for sure. God created us and not from apes or astral dust from a distant galaxy... we derived from the ground near the oceanic shore. We are not to suffer alone. He has taken and broken that stone. He rose again... it is in His plan. Read the Word or reject, but for peace of mind give Him some respect. He will show you the way and guarantee your entitlement to eternity. He did not die for nothing... it didn't come without a cost. Humanity is not lost. We are driven by sin. However, I know that this was not the way that it was supposed to begin. Figure reality into this equation. This is not a simple equation nor is it in-between impossible and possible. It is created by His hands and what man cannot, God makes possible. We know that this life is full of degradation and rot. It is not for purchase in a 100 acre lot. It is not for sale in a distant galaxy or other planet. He made it! He planned it! If God was not just He would not have died on the cross and all would have been lost. We are not, however, we have hope and assurance of our life that will be in eternal transcendence. We may be alien at first sight, when God made the Heavens and light. However, we are not to become out of sight and driven out of His light. We must fight for our rights-- human, civil, women, and freedom. Our lives were not brought by the forefathers without forethought. They were brought by the forefathers by God's divine will, and if it had not been His will we would not live in American freedom. I walk in the flesh daily, but it is a constant reminder that I am His child, freely. My family, my friends, and myself will eventually depart, but we are not set apart. We will live together in new body, mind, and spirit, because they can hear it. He has shared His love for man, from Jesus, not man, but God in His plan. I have sown and lost in history. The moments in time that we live already gone-- a distant memory in the sea of longevity. I became ensnarled by the enemies' grip. I am not longer bound by oath on that sinking ship. It is cast into the sea of forgetfulness and I am free at last, no longer a victim of loneliness. Give and take or take the gift and re-give, but know that you are a slave to what you live. Whether you are on drugs, a sexual endorphin, or alcoholic craze-- God has forgiven you for all of these days. Don't live any longer in regret. Accept what God has chosen to forget. He loves you and leads you on no matter how blinded in life's misleading song. Listen to these wise words and take advice from a man who once was lost and wasn't very nice. I was cruel in many ways and on any given day would give into things that my mind will not repay with peace. These reparations and desperations are no longer. I am made me by God who is stronger. I have been lost and out of sight of God, but the enemies' line of sight is now gone. No more fear. No longer any destruction. No more lust and misguided instruction. The Bible is truth to those who stand observant. No man was made to become Satan's servant. He will be destroyed and our lives will be restored in the Heavenly Realms of God's Golden Shore. I know this must have been a mistake of chance to read this. It is not. It was written for truth, guidance in your spiritual asylum. Know this: He is God and I wrote this within the parameters of God giving me understanding from His Word. The life we live is not our own. We are God's. We are to be taken home. Let go now. Do not stress about tomorrow, a week from now, or the misery which has past and is of the past. You have been forgiven so take God's gift of eternal salvation and make it last. Do not forsake these words for you may only hear them once. It is appointed for man to die, and you may not live through the day. Take what I say, see for yourself, it is not hidden, it is written on the trees and the faces of the Earth. Be wise in judgment and may God relieve you from this curse. Amen upon Amen. We who were sinful will reach the Promised Land. The truth that He laid bare-- we are forgiven! We will be welcomed into eternity!

M.A.H: Master Artifacts of Holigraphy  
I have lived a long life on this Earth. I did not serve in the United States military for selfish gain or for the sole reason of killing Nazis in Germany. I did not serve to be remembered by my accomplishments while in duty, nor did I serve to make my family and friends proud. I served, because I wanted to prove to God that I entrust Him with my life, and ultimately He had a plan while I was in the concentration camp – to save Mikhail and Cesslo. They have long passed from this Earth, but I know that I do not need to miss them since I will see them in Heaven when I die. I have lived a long, arduous journey amidst man, and I have lived a prosperous life in the sight of God. I will address the men now who have served and wish them farewell now that they have passed away... I love you guys, you were my brothers. To the men and women who will serve I say to you, "You are not going to serve in the military to honor your commanding officers, the President, or your family and friends. You are going to serve God. If He wills then you will make it out alive, but know that if you die you will see your Creator face to face. You must help the citizens of the countries that you serve in, and never leave a man behind on the battlefield. Serve others to lift up God in the sight of man... because, we are lost on Earth and have no reason of being without Him and His sacrifice of His Son Jesus Christ. Know that the Lord has watched your life play out into the future even before you were born of your mother's flesh. He will not forsake the believers, but for those who do not wish to obey, His justice is finalized in the end times. I say to you, serve your country and be a humbled soldier. Your blood might be shed on the battlefield, but your soul will never be shed from eternity, because the Lord holds it in His hands and will not allow for its departure from His delicate grip upon it. I thank you in advance for your service, sacrifice, and diligence to save the freedoms of the American people." I will not end this letter in sorrow, as I have been forgiven for the blood of the Germans that I shed. I pray that God gives the familial generations of those men a peace which transcends all comprehension, and may their souls rest in peace. I ask the younger generations who are just starting out in this cruel world to never resent your parents or God who is the Creator. You guys are the generations which will result in the prosperity and advancement of the human race and its fate is in your hands, and ultimately in the strong hand of the Lord. Serve others, and make sacrifices if you must, because no matter how hard you might perceive life to be, just know that there is another person out there who suffers far greater than what you can imagine. I ask you not to be selfish and serve others – give food to the poor, donate generously with the joy of the Spirit leading you. Never fear, always be aware, and keep your inner-strength in top-gear as you progress through life. I would also like to thank my son, Lee for sending me his heart-warming telegraph – Lee I still have it on my dresser in a frame. Thank you, Lee and give my regards to the grandchildren. I hereby declare that, in the case of my untimely departure from Earth, I will my land, cabin, all of my belongings which resides on this land, and any money that I have in my bank accounts to, Lee Johnson and in the case of his death, I will everything to my grandchildren and great grandchildren.

God bless,

-T.O.G. The Old Gray

_I_ _have walked countless days in the hazy mists of blood  
All to have my duties and life-work be rejected by the people whose formlessness stood._

I stared startlingly at my comrades who fell by the wayside

Just to have Americans belittle all that happened on the warring side.

I have stood tall in pride and been struck with low blows

by the enemies whose sacrifices conceited my stride.

I have lost all that I have been just to be lost in sin.

All that I have done is for naught, but only for the lonely souls and lifeless bones

carried away by my shot.

I saw them flip over in pain and I wondered day after day if it was all in vain.

My eyes have cried a million and one tears for all the bloodshed that was spread throughout the years.

Yea, though I am somewhat convinced about the freedoms made and the money spent

_I_ _feel as though I wasted those four years on the front line encased in a heavy, head-locked splint._

You commend me for my sacrifice and tour

_What_ _about my buddies who were drowning and lost to death's grip – are they forgotten, in your mind, all for nothing did they die?!_

You have called me a man of God – yes, this I know for sure...

_He was there when the battles first waged – in the beginning of time, especially when the first rifle cracks... during everyone's last breaths, and throughout the blood-stained slats. In a window the air seems still, but on the outside it freely blows – a whisper of the souls, lost, but_ _never forgotten_ _._

I have run, crawled, sunk, and dived, but I will never forget my stand as a United States soldier in America's Army – the land of the free and home of the brave.

God sent his son and we sent our knaves.

I live and breathe.

I even believe.

But do you understand the cost of the sacrifices which were made?

The people who have died?

The mistakes that were made?

I _do and_ _I know_ _that my brothers and sisters did not underestimate the cost for their lives and the ones that were lost. To death, I wish you farewell. To myself, I bid you a bended knee – with tears, with pain, all was never lost in vain._

  * Hans Neinhausen THE OLD GRAY

Lee took a breath and sighed in relief. He looked his sons in the eyes.

"You remember this day and what your grandfather has taught in his letters."

"You be sure to tell your children and grandchildren about him, okay?" Lee sternly asked.

The kids nodded in agreement with mouths agape. Lee stood up and placed the pages into the fire.

"Wait! What are you doing?" Johannasse exclaimed.

"Sh... dad told me that there would be a time where his legacy would have to live on without him being here to fulfill it any farther."

"The day has come now, but we must never forget his service, faith, and the actions that he took to fully experience God in his life."

Lee got up and walked upstairs to return to bed. The kids followed and slept in the bed with him until morning. The next morning, Lee woke up and saw a raven perched upon the windowsill. It cawed incessantly and did not leave its perch. Lee walked downstairs and cooked breakfast. The kids walked downstairs and ate with him.

"We will eat and leave today."  
"We must stay strong," Lee said as he took a sip of his coffee.

They finished up their breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen. They packed up their suitcases and walked to the van. Lee walked around the side of the cabin and opened up the power box. He shut the power to the cabin off and closed the lid. He grabbed the lock on top of the power box and locked it tight over the clasp. He threw the key to the cabin into a puddle and walked to the van. He got in and started the engine. As they drove off, Lee looked into the rearview mirror and glanced his eyes towards his sons. He smiled and maintained strength as he turned on the road towards Signawunder Highway. He took a sip of coffee and merged onto the highway back towards the United States. The Old Gray's cabin sat still as the raven slept on the windowsill. He pecked at the glass in the middle of the night and opened the window by pulling on the emergency release hatch. As he flew into the opened window he dropped dead onto the bed and decomposed a month later. The cabin ate dust for 40 years and the vines grew thick on the outskirts. The overgrowth eluded to the strong presence of death as it engulfed the stale wooded patio and rusting screen door. The cabin is visited by every generation of The Old Gray's lineage to this day. Still, as of March 14, 2014 at 4:46 PM Mountain Standard Time, no one knows what happened to The Old Gray and his dog Cali. Every generation after Lee tries to search the premises and the hillsides of blood, but cannot find his body. His legacy lives, though he has disappeared as he had promised. May God bless the United States military and service personnel and may He rest The Old Gray's soul with peace upon his family.

The Old Gray© was written by Cody Dunn. Unless otherwise stated, all content in this book was written by Cody Dunn. The cover image has a photograph of Cody Dunn on it, and any unauthorized reproduction, distribution, or plagiarism taken from The Old Gray© will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. I, Cody Dunn, hereby authorize the distribution of The Old Gray© from www.smashwords.com to its recipient parties. Any third party use of this book is strictly forbidden. Hans Neinhausen is the pen name for Cody Dunn and it is a pseudonym. Any similarities in this book to any person, place, or event in reality is mere coincidence. All illustrations and photographs are intellectually copyrighted, and any unauthorized usage of the images contained within this book is forbidden. The illustrations and images were used with permission by the people who created/ took them.

Copyright © 2013 Cody Dunn

AFTERWORD:

The Old Gray is dedicated to: E-7 Sergeant First Class, John Joseph Nichols  
**Service in Vietnam** : October 1956-1968

My grandpa grew up in Tarrytown, New York and was raised by his loving family who emigrated from Slovakia. His dad was a plumber and handyman, while his mom was a housewife who took care of grandpa and his two sisters. His mom was a devout Catholic who spent her life worshipping God and serving the community.  
Grandpa Nichols has lived an arduous life full of excitement and fear. At around the age of 18 he joined the Armed Forces and became an enlisted Private in the Army. His service locations ranged all over the country and also included traveling to Panama, Germany, Russia, and Paris. I recall many hours of spending time in fascination and fantasy while engrossing myself in his life stories. This book is a cumulative account of the stories, people, and life circumstantial parallels that I wanted to convey to the reader. Everything written in the book resembles my emotions, character personages, and the adventure that God has blessed me with since birth. The parallels range from the use of real names and puns of names of my family and friends, address usages, places, and my dog Cali who is pictured on the cover image. It has been a long and riveting adventure to develop and influence my insight upon the world of the reader via my mind, and I feel assured that the adventure that you have just finished experiencing will be with you for the rest of your life... the pain that was described, the death that was depicted, and the faith of a Christian man's soul that was expressed in these writings will impact your life and change it to a better understanding of the hope that is needed when faced with trial, disability, and anger. Never lose sight of what you have been given and do not give up on things that you are trying to achieve. Life will not be easy, but it is a journey worth expressing in a positive attitude and appreciation for what is and not for what will never be. May God be with the United States of America and may He provide guidance in your life, whether you are a believer or skeptic, know that, "The mind of man plans his ways, but the Lord directs his steps." PROVERBS 16:9. This will encompass your life: faith is not meant to be understood. It is to be accepted. How can a person hate what they have been given by God, when they had no choice in the matter of being birthed into this existence? There is no refuting or ideology that can express the fact that this life is a complex, yet exciting adventure, and it does not end with our death, but begins with our salvation into eternity. Furthermore, there is nothing too great a challenge, because what has been given to us in the Bible, with God's direction and provision, and our loving family and friends is a gift, and it is not okay for us to give up and kill ourselves or our humanity through hating others and the mistakes that we have made. Yes, the truth is that what we have done in the past can never be reverted, but what can be converted is the simplicity of stopping, thinking, and seeking advice before adhering to an impulsive and selfish desire. If we can apply this logic to everything, then we will not feel anymore regret, nor will we make decisions that will affect us for the remainder of our lives. A wise man once said to me, "Those who are stuck on themselves are stuck with themselves." Therefore, if we are consistently dwelling on what has past then we cannot build an institution of peace and prosperity, because all we think about are the thoughts and other people, and not our future and God. We must take into account that every word, action, and thought that encompasses and passes to and fro in our lives will be held accountable on the day of judgment when Christ returns to redeem His disciples. Love God and accept who He is and what He had given to you or reject Him, but there is not going to be any way that you can escape from His watchful eye or exit out from his grace, love, and mercy. Every day that has been given is given, because He wants us to realize the truths that are apparent and embrace the things which are not seen, such as signs, divine-intervention, and the loving aura which is held innate within the beauty of the Earth.  
Take care and thank you for reading this book. It means a lot to me. I love you and so does God.  
Sincerely,

Hans Neinhausen  
\- CLD

Published by: Hans Neinhausen  
Copyright 2014 The Old Gray  
Hans Neinhausen 2014

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