After the Storm

During WW2 in 1944, an American soldier is in France waiting for the enemy. His name was Timothy Roberts, and he had earlier faced the most harrowing moment in his tenure as a soldier. There was a grueling battle earlier as enemy artillery shells pounded his position for hours. He hid in the trenches for safety, knowing that at any moment, it could be his last one. Every moment of silence felt strange even after a few hours of the screams of war.

There he could hear the rhythmic pounding of enemy artillery as earth and snow leapt from the ground and upwards of six feet into the air. At times, even though his trench was painstaking dug, the earth and debris would fall onto him, caking him with earth and snow. There were moments where he could hear fellow soldiers screaming and then silence, knowing that their fate was a sorrowful one, but that there was little that he could do to help them. There were times where all he could do was cover his ears,, as he didn’t want to continue hearing those sounds.

At one time, an enemy shell almost hit Timothy’s trenches, missing by only about twenty feet. The ensuing earthquake caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand as he knew that he came so close to meeting his maker. Earlier, he had also heard nearby soldiers screaming for help due to injuries, but he wasn’t able to do anything as he knew that climbing out of his trenches meant putting himself in danger to enemy gunfire. Timothy knew that all he could do was sit and wait, and hope that a better fate awaited them.

Later that day, a bullet grazed Timothy in the arm. He was lucky that it didn’t hit him an inch lower, otherwise he would’ve suffered a severe injury. Timothy tried quickly to bandage the wound, but his hands were frozen, meaning that it took longer for him to both grab the bandages from his pack and dress the wound. Timothy frantically did so, all the while, being constantly worried that an enemy soldier would cross over No Man’s Land and attack the trenches. It took him about two minutes to finally finish bandaging the wound, before returning to his post as usual.

The enemy did try to push during the night as Timothy could see figures trying to rush through the forest even though there was little to no moonlight then. He could hear shouts and screams in their language as they tried again and again to make it to their lines. Timothy frantically shot at the charging figures, at times, not knowing if he did or not due to how cold his hands were. One time, he mistakenly thought that he had frostbite and tried to call for a medic but was able to learn that his hands were just cold when another soldier lit a match to use as a light source.

During the battle, Timothy noticed, with great horror, that one of his fellow soldiers, a fellow named Roger, while trying to fire back at the enemy soldiers, was fatally shot. Timothy tried his best to stop the bleeding and called for a medic, using the last bandages that he had and screaming at the top of his lungs. At times, Timothy didn’t know if anyone would hear him as the deafening sounds of artillery and tanks made it hard to tell if he was making any sounds at all.

“Is it bad,” asked Roger. Timothy told him to not worry about it, but Timothy was aware that he may not be so lucky. “Tell my family, I thought about them every day.” Timothy kept telling Roger not to say that even as the bleeding managed to soak through the bandages. Roger wasn’t dismayed by his fate and continued to smile. Timothy then asked him why would he smile at a time like this. “It is ok. I have fought alongside my brothers with pride.” When the medic finally arrived, Roger had lost a lot of blood, but the medic and Timothy tried to be hopeful about their friend’s recovery.

“He will be already,” said Timothy even as the blood had soaked into much of his uniform, “he is a survivor and he can survive that.” Roger had been one of Timothy’s friends in training, and he was known for his sense of humor among his compatriots. Roger frequently told jokes to his fellow soldiers, which greatly helped with morale. Timothy had managed to get his friend to safety under a regular hail of gunfire and artillery shells, meaning that he waited for a short pause in the attacks to do so. He knew he was lucky when he called for a medic as he also knew that if he chose wrong, he could’ve faced the same fate as Roger.

Timothy noticed that one of the letters that Roger was writing was dropped on the ground and decided to pick it up, but not to read it out of respect for his friend. Suddenly, artillery shells began to bombard his position with greater intensity, and at one point, Timothy could see tank columns heading his way. Timothy picked up an anti-tank grenade near him and prepared to stick it on the first enemy tank that neared his trench, but that wouldn’t need to happen as friendly artillery managed to save him and his compatriots in his battalion.

After about twenty-two hours of grueling fighting, the enemy soldiers finally appeared to be in retreat, with Timothy now finally able to catch his breath. “I could finally use a break,” he said, “I lost count of the number of times I could’ve died out there. Timothy had also noticed that the wound he had suffered earlier needed a new bandage due to the amount of blood it had absorbed, and he had hoped to get more at the barracks.

As Timothy climbed out to the trench, he could feel that he was sore in most of his body. From shoulders to feet, he was sore when he tried to move but managed to climb out of the trench after a great deal of effort. “Join the army they said,” he said, “go see the world.” Timothy took a short break after managing to climb out of the trenches. “When I get home, the first thing I am going to do is sit in the family rocking chair next to a fire.”

As Timothy made his way to the barracks, he could see his fellow soldiers being cheerful and singing. This surprised Timothy as he thought that after the battle, most of his compatriots would be about as grumpy as he was. “This is strange,” he said, “I wonder what has gotten everyone so cheerful.” Another soldier then told him that they had received a holiday feast from back home, which did cheer up Timothy.

They had received turkey, gravy and mashed potatoes, which were all food that Timothy was fond of. For the first time in a while, Timothy was able to smile and relax. He sat down with the other soldiers from his platoon as they waited excitedly for their holiday meal. “After all that has happened,” said one of them, “I am just happy that we get to celebrate the holidays.” The other soldiers agreed with this sentiment, including Timothy.

“I am just happy to be alive,” said Timothy, “but if I can also celebrate the holidays, then I think that I will be even happier.” “Life is too short not to have a little happiness.”