4

A meeting of legends

In a moment of desperation, the decision to lean forward crossed my mind.

A split-second decision saved his life.

Because I leaned forward, the enemy soldier's bayonet passed me by.

The British soldier lost his balance and fell to the ground with a dull sound.

While the enemy was suffering, I pulled out a bayonet from my side and rushed at the enemy.

If you don't kill it, you die.

I can't die until I get revenge on those who fucked me. Humanly speaking, I could have died five times! What more do you want here?

As a result of moving as guided by the survival instinct, he plunged the bayonet into the opponent's chest without hesitation. When his bayonet was pulled out, his blood poured out like a fountain.

After taking the gun out of the hand of a dying enemy soldier with blood pouring out, he returned to the trench and fired at the crowd of enemies.

When I saw that about 2 or 3 enemy soldiers had been shot down, I ran out of bullets.

The Lee-Enfield rifle could no longer be used because the ammunition was different from the Gewehr 1898 rifle.

While checking for abandoned weapons nearby, an MP18 submachine gun caught my eye.

Coincidentally, there were spare magazines lying around.

I immediately picked it up and fired wildly at the enemies who came close to the trench.

Two British soldiers who were holding the barbed wire open with their hands were reduced to rags, and a middle-aged soldier who was trying to throw a grenade fell down while holding the grenade and was blown to pieces.

However, the number of enemies was greater than expected, and in the end, only a few survived and entered the trenches.

When he pulled the trigger on the back of the head of an enemy soldier who had jumped into the trench, a sound like a watermelon exploding was heard, and blood and brain matter splashed onto his face.

After wiping the blood from my face with my sleeve, I was replacing the magazine when something fell in front of me. It was a grenade.

Reflexively, my eyes fell on the corpse of the enemy soldier I had just shot. There was no time to waste, so I threw the enemy soldier's corpse onto the grenade.

The body covered the grenade and the grenade exploded at the same time.

I received a strong blow to my head and immediately lost consciousness.

While all consciousness was turned off, no sound was heard.

Only darkness and silence.

***

"Oh, you're alive."

"Are you awake?"

When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a cot.

How happy I was when I realized that I had survived. He wasn't that afraid of dying because he had already tasted death five times.

I'm just afraid of what happens after I die.

The battle ended in victory for the allies. The military doctor said that at first they thought he was dead and tried to bury him in a hole, but his body was warm for a corpse and when he checked he was breathing, so they brought him here.

"You are so lucky. "I almost got buried alive."

"Is that so?"

Buried alive. I almost faced the same death again.

As I stood up, I felt pain in my chest. Her headache was so severe that it felt like her head was tied with a rope.

According to the military doctor, there was a small fragment lodged in his chest and his head appeared to have been hit by the explosion. All the fragments were removed, and there was no major problem with my head, so I was told it would get better as soon as I got some rest.

"By the way, you did an amazing job."

"?"

"You said you single-handedly knocked out two tanks and wiped out all the enemies that were flocking towards you? Witnesses say you took on dozens of people by yourself. "He said he would have lost the battle if it weren't for you."

"Uh... Is that so?"

"That's right. Considering your achievements, you should be awarded the Iron Cross at least. Oh, by the way, I don't know your name. "Corporal, what is your name?"

"This is Adolf Hitler."

"Adolf Hitler. "I will report it to your unit first."

A few days later, I was transferred to a military hospital in Aachen, mainland Germany, along with other wounded soldiers.

The military hospital was definitely better than the medical centers at the front.

I could lie down in a proper bed, there were more nurses than medics, and I couldn't hear the gunshots that were often heard.

The most satisfying thing is the meal. The meals provided at the hospital were much better than those served at the front lines.

It can't be helped that turnips are served at every meal, but unlike the front line where only turnips were eaten for three meals a day, bread and potatoes are served here, and sometimes meat is also served.

Even though the drought was so bad, there was still something to do to watch the fish.

Today, meat was served for the first time in a while, and everyone in the hospital cheered. The menu is grilled sausage, finely shredded cabbage and boiled kidney beans.

The sausage had a strong fishy smell and was tough, but no one complained.

In times like these where food is scarce, just being able to eat meat was a blessing.

As I was slicing the sausage into thin slices with a knife and slowly savoring it, a newly wounded soldier who had arrived in the bed next to me from yesterday was lying down, saying he felt bloated. With half of that precious sausage left over.

"Would you like some? "I have no appetite."

"uh? Is this really okay?! "I'm sorry about this. What should I do?"

"does not matter. "It's much better than throwing it away."

How can you readily give such precious sausages to someone else? Do you have a big heart or are you really uncomfortable?

Feeling sorry for no reason, I talked to him.

"Thank you for the sausage. What is your name? I need to know the name of the benefactor who gave me this precious sausage. "By the way, I'm Adolf Hitler."

"This is Remarque. Erich Paul Remarque."

At that moment, I almost spit out the sausage that was in my mouth.

Remarque?

That Remarque?

The writer who left behind numerous masterpieces such as , , and others, and went into exile abroad after directly opposing the Nazis?

I was so embarrassed that I could barely speak.

My God, that legendary author is right in front of me.

Come to think of it, I heard that Remarque was injured while fighting on the Western Front and was evacuated.

Who would have expected that a man who would later become a dictator and a novelist who went into exile abroad after being oppressed for opposing that dictator would meet in the same hospital room? Things in the world were truly mysterious.

"Hey, is there any problem?"

Remarque, puzzled by my silence, asked.

"Oh, it's nothing. "It's just that my name is similar to someone I know."

Since Remarque began to become famous in earnest in 1929, 11 years after the end of World War I, it makes no sense for me to recognize him.

It was a roughly made up lie, but Remarque accepted it without question.

"okay. Were you close friends with that person?"

"uh? Uh, I knew him a little bit. Should I call him a drinking friend's drinking friend? "I had a friend whose future dream was to be a novelist, but I don't know where he would be or what he would be doing right now."

"is it so?"

Remarque's face unexpectedly brightened after hearing what I said.

"What a coincidence. "My dream is to become a novelist in the future."

"exactly?"

Out of curiosity, I asked several questions.

"Then, may I ask what topics you mainly plan to cover?"

"I haven't decided on anything yet, but I plan to write about war someday. "It's about this war that's happening right now."

"Right. I feel like you have the temperament of a novelist for some reason. Because it looks like that. "If you become famous, please remember my name."

"Thank you for the compliment. Mr. Hitler, what do you plan to do after the war is over?"

"I'm not sure yet. "He only thought about surviving the war, so he never thought about anything after that."

Actually, I have something else in mind, but there's no need to reveal it now.

"okay."

I had many conversations with Remarque afterwards. What he did before the war, what he went through during the war, etc.

The next day, Remarque left for surgery and another wounded soldier entered his bed.

When I asked the military doctor who was making rounds where Remarque had gone and who else had come, he said that he had been moved to another ward for treatment.

So, I spent the time lying quietly as before, pondering the unexpected encounter.

I did so...

"Which of these is Adolf Hitler?"

During morning rounds as usual, instead of a military doctor, two officers in uniform appeared in the hospital room and spoke. What's going on?

"I am Adolf Hitler..."

The two officers immediately turned their heads towards me, then strode forward and put their faces in my direction.

"You are Adolf Hitler?"

"That's right."

"Are you from the Liszt Regiment of the Bavarian Army?"

"yes."

"What is your rank?"

"I'm a corporal."

"I'm sure."

The reason they suddenly appeared in the hospital room was because of me.

"Congratulations, Corporal Hitler. "Do you know that your work was even published in the newspaper?"

"You mean in the newspaper?"

I was in the newspaper?

"okay. Looking at your reaction, it seems you didn't know. Anyway, can you walk?"

"It is possible. "It's impossible to run."

"It doesn't matter because all you have to do is stand anyway."

"Get ready right now. The military uniform is in clean condition, right? Otherwise, we will prepare it for you."

"Well, may I ask what's causing this? "I don't understand at all-"

"Marshal Hindenburg is coming here now. He is going to award you a medal himself."

"Hindenburg?!"

The moment that name came out, everyone in the hospital room became excited.

The nurses and other wounded soldiers who were snooping around outside the hospital room wondering what was going on were shocked as if they had been electrocuted the moment they heard Hindenburg's name.

Paul von Hindenburg.

A giant of modern German history who achieved a great victory over the Russian army during World War I, became president after the war, and had a tremendous influence on Hitler and the Nazis' rise to power.

Because the war was still underway, he would have to wait a few more years to become president, but Hindenburg was already so famous that no one knew him throughout Germany thanks to his countless achievements on the Eastern Front.

Hindenburg was so popular at the time that his birthday, October 2nd, was designated as a public holiday.

Are you going to meet the Hindenburg?

Is this true?

***

When Hindenburg arrived at the hospital, there was a cloud of people waiting for him at the hospital's main entrance.

This guy is so popular. Hindenburg smiled as he looked at the people who gathered to see him.

It's happened dozens of times already, but I've never felt bothered by the large crowds. If that size isn't proof of his popularity, then what is?

"It's the real Hindenburg!"

"General!"

"dismissal! dismissal!"

Hindenburg waved at the crowds of people welcoming him and then went straight into the hospital.

The reason he came to this small hospital today was to encourage the wounded soldiers and award them medals. There were dozens of photographers who came to take pictures of him.

"What's your name, young man?"

"Ah, it's Anton, Excellency Marshal."

"How did you get that scar on your forehead?"

"Stop fighting the French army..."

"Right. Those scars are proof of your courage. "Be proud."

Marshal Noh walked around the hospital room, shook hands with the wounded soldiers, and asked them their names, ages, hometowns, and how they got injured.

Newspaper reporters eagerly moved their pens, looking alternately at Hindenburg talking to the wounded soldiers and their notebooks, while photographers kept pressing the shutter.

After visiting all the hospital rooms, Hindenburg headed to the top floor of the hospital for the medal award ceremony, which was the climax of the event.

Medal recipients were standing at attention and waiting even before Hindenburg arrived.

"Oh dear. "Because of this old man, our heroes have been bothered."

"no!!!"

Even light jokes seemed to sound different to them. He chuckled, shook hands with each recipient and presented them with their medals.

"Lieutenant Franz Böhmer, awarded the medal for leading his platoon and successfully covering the retreat of our troops."

"Captain David Zyszkowski, as a military doctor, treats wounded soldiers with sincerity..."

"Captain Herbert Halberstein, . . . therefore awarded the medal."

Those who received the medal saluted and answered the enemy's questions in loud voices.

Before we knew it, it was the turn of the last medal recipient.

"Corporal Adolf Hitler, in a battle with the British army, destroyed two enemy tanks and killed a number of enemy infantrymen, greatly breaking the enemy's will to go on the offensive and thereby contributing to the victory of our troops, so he was awarded the medal."

Hindenburg, who was holding the last remaining 1st class Iron Cross medal with hands the size of a pot lid, was shocked to hear that he was a corporal.

Among the recipients of this medal, he was the only enlisted rank.

"What a friend. His rank is only a corporal, but he takes down two tanks. "A very brave soldier."

"Thank you, Excellency Marshal!"

After placing a medal around the neck of a brave corporal, Hindenburg asked the usual question:

"Did you say Adolf Hitler? So, where is he from?"

"I'm from Busan... no, I'm from Braunauamin."

Hindenburg, who was deaf due to his old age, could not hear the first word Busan that came out. However, I vaguely understood the term Braunauamin.

"Brownow? "So are you Czech?"

Braunau am Inn in Austria, where Hitler was born, and Braunau in the Czech Republic have similar pronunciations, so many people used to get confused.

"no. "I am Austrian."

"okay? I guess I was mistaken. But an Austrian is serving in the German army. It's such a big deal.

Well, anyway, it's okay. What is more important than your place of origin is the courage to fight the enemy on the battlefield. yes?"

"you're right."

"I'm glad you're brave. It's like looking at myself when I was young. I wish there were more brave young people like you. "Isn't that right?"

"I think Germany needs you more than me."

When Hindenburg heard those words, a smile spread across his face without even realizing it.

I thought he was just a brave friend, but he has quite the gift of words. This friend is becoming more and more likeable to me.

"This guy speaks so wonderfully. "What did you say your name was?"

"This is Adolf Hitler."

"Hitler, Hitler. "I will remember it well."