Stories of Yesterday
The Train
I once had thought at the age of 8, that I had operated a tank at some point in my life. This is a story I made about that little memory of mine. It is more of a story, but there’s a snippet of that memory for which I’ve logged within this story.
One more step. The train door was wide open, waiting for the next passenger to board. A man stood, staring down at his polished black boots. A touch from his wife on his shoulder jolted him. He looked up at her. She was carrying their son and holding their daughter’s hand.
“Dear, we have to go.” She said to him, with an attempted held-back look of worry in her eyes. She handed the boy to him and then grabbed the one piece of luggage sitting next to her. “Here we go then.” He said, giving his wife a slight smile with as much reassurance in it as he could muster.
The family sat quietly together with no effort in making conversation. As the train pulled away, the man looked out, seeing all the familiar scenes starting to speed past. A last fleeting look of what was once great — once a place they called home.
Mathias was a tall man, with light brown hair and hazel eyes with a hint of blue. Like his stature, his gaze was almost menacing. His appearance most likely played a role in getting him to where he is in his profession, SS Oberführer. He did his job and did it very well. He was strict and well suited for his rank.
Mathias sat quietly as conversations surrounding him slowly dulled. He began thinking about his work. It had engulfed his life for the past 5 years, possibly more. His wife grew distant, and he just as much. Mathias was well sought after for his military career, which kept him occupied and often away from home. When he was home, he often brought his work with him, leaving him boarded up in his office long into the night.
Fragmentary accounts started adding up within his mind; rumbling ground and smoked-veiled battlefields, sounds of distant booms and pangs of gunfire, the smell of gunpowder and sweat — nearly sending him to tears. Not because of the fear of war, but his longing to be back at the hull of a tank. He thought of how very hard he had worked to gain his reputation as a soldier, and how he would do anything to stay in the uniform he so rightly had earned.
He stopped, realising the train was slowing for the next stop. He glanced up at his wife and smiled. It was a feeling as if he’d seen her for the first time in years. He got up and sat next to the empty seat beside her. He brushed back the hair on her face and left his hand on her cheek.
“I’m sorry for all I’ve done and all I will do. Know I’ve protected you more than you could ever imagine. All of this was for you, Darling.” He kissed her gently and got up, kissed his children on their heads.
“Mathias, where on Earth are you going?!” His wife said, grabbing onto his greatcoat, panicked.
He turned, glanced out the window, and knelt in front of her. “You have done well without me. You are going on, I am staying here. I must do what I can so this place we called home will return to what it once was. You and our children will come back. No more running, no more fear. If I run, we are all in danger. I must stay here and do what I’ve done best. I am still your husband and still their father, and I will do what I must to keep you safe. There is no turning back for you, you must go. If this war does not end, we will not live. I will see you again.”
She began to speak, but he kissed her one more time, got up, and left his family. He couldn’t bear to let his family stay, see the decline of their home. He knew what wasn’t right, but he couldn’t leave — he couldn’t put his family at risk by running away himself.
As he walked toward the door, he didn’t look back. Stopping quickly, he looked down onto the platform. He straightened his stature, adjusted the iron cross around his collar, and with a final, proud lift of his head he stepped off the train.
