Wednesday, July 4, 2018
A Matter of Inches
As another Lame Cherry exclusive in matter anti matter.
The lives of two Austrians were woven together in a young Marksman and his Major Kloss on the Eastern Front with a warmth the propaganda press never would allow Germans to be recorded as. There was humor, there was caring and there was a mixture of mirth in the Major always enjoyed riding a horse to survey a battlefield and when Joseph Allerberger was assigned as his body guard, he was placed on a little Russian pony that rubbed his legs raw as he tried to stay on the horse, much to the amusement of his commander.
Both had survived death numerous times. In fact, they had just been on a motorcycle surveying the retreat when a Russian tank appeared, and were in front of a German artillery piece as it erupted, knocking both unconscious and dazed as the battle raged around them.
Not long after this Allerberger was in a trench ducking Russia shelling when he happened to duck a little late after many times,but was fortunate to turn his head. The shrapnel cut a slice out of his skull and dazed him, as hot metal drove into his face. If he had not turned that fraction of an inch, the metal would have driven into his brain.
As his job was to protect the commander, Allerberger was at a strategy meeting, reclining against a wall as the officers bent over a map on a table in the new headquarters which was a half blown out mansion. The Marksman watched as the shells came close and the officers would flinch or duck.
The only communication available was radio truck and one was parked outside, and the Russians made a point of aiming for them when found. It was either by luck or a good shot that a shell struck the radio truck and blew in the last windows of the mansion.
Immediately Allerberger knew something was wrong with his commander as the shell blew in the window and splinters flew across the room. Everyone dove for cover, except the commander whose helmet dropped over his eyes which were bulging out as he sank to his knees and then lay across the table with a tremble.
Allerberger reached his commander he noticed a hole in his head about the size of a 5 mark piece behind the right ear. There was a trickle of blood and when he rolled over the Major, his eyes were panicked and without acknowledgment. He was dead.
They buried him in the garden in the midst of the war with his helmet on a stick.
It was a matter of inches in the helmet had done Major Kloss absolutely not any good. An inch to the left and it would have been a joke and more planning. For Allerberger an inch lower and he would have had his brains exploded to.
It is the matter of war in one can have 1000 misses that one makes the right move, and only the wrong move is the one which lasts.