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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2180546
by Badaps
Rated: E · Novel · History · #2180546
Julian Dressel uses guile to survive.

         Franz Dressel was dying. He knew it, he could feel it. All around lay his companions, his friends, his neighbours, his bunkmates. All dead. He looked down at his once pristinely white uniform. Blood, gore and dirt stained it, and standing out on the stark white of the shirt was a growing metallic-smelling splotch of dark red. In the middle of the battle, for it was a battle that had been fought, Franz had been stabbed in side by a stray bayonet.

         Suddenly Franz realised what he was leaving behind. His country, his village, his smithy, and most saddening of all- his family. His son,
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2180546