Karl plodded through the heavy fog in the deep snow, cringing with every crunch as his Wehrmacht jackboots knifed through the hardened moisture. That sound had always bothered his ears. To him, it sounded as if he were stepping on crushed, wet bone. It wasn’t just an irritation, it was a maddening obsession. He hated it. But he gritted his teeth and continued on.
Serving as his unit’s runner, he was tasked with making his way back to battalion headquarters to update the commander on their progress. He was eager to report that they’d caught the Americans by complete surprise, surged through their lines, and put the enemy in full retreat. The German attack in the Ardennes was off to a winning start. Perhaps the Christmas of 1944 would be a merry one for Germany after all. He felt a warming smile stretch his face at the thought.
But his smiling mouth quickly turned to sagging corners of concern as he approached an open stretch of ground after traveling through a densely wooded area. The moonless night made it difficult to see much, but he didn’t need his vision to know what lay strewn about this former battlefield…
Karl had been there only hours before while they rounded up American prisoners after overwhelming their defenses that morning. He had been leading a pair of GIs to a POW cage in the rear.
He remembered their faces well. The first was a man who looked to be in his late twenties with sunken eyes and dark hair. He figured the American had seen his share of combat given the thousand-yard stare he held throughout the entirety of his short captivity. That was the hardened gaze of a veteran.
The next man was different. “Man” was probably too strong of a word to use to describe this baby-faced blonde soldier. He didn’t look a day over twelve and likely had never even held a shaving razor. His entire body seemed to tremble with fear as he held his defeated hands atop his head in surrender. There was no question about this boy’s non-veteran status.
Karl kept a careful eye on them as they marched through the thick snow. There it was though – that annoying crunching sound. At first, he could only faintly hear it and was encouraged that perhaps their recent victory would distract him long enough not to let the sound get on his nerves too badly. But instead, it got louder. And louder. It reached the point where it felt like small hammers were pounding at his ear drums. He stopped in his tracks, but still the sound persisted.
He looked forward and saw the older GI heavily plodding forward through the deep snow. It’s that American. He’s doing it on purpose, Karl thought to himself. He thinks he can defy me like that?! I’ll show him…
Finally, something within him snapped. Perhaps it was the sound alone. Or perhaps it was the roller coaster of emotions from stressful combat. But without even realizing what happened, Karl did a very bad thing. He leveled his submachine gun, aimed it at the older POW’s back and pulled the trigger. Several rounds tore into the GI – including one through the back of his head – and sent him sprawling face-first into the frozen ground. In a swift instant, the GI’s status shifted from “prisoner of war” to “killed in action” – even though cold-blooded murder did not usually fall under the category of KIA.
The crunching noise in Karl’s ears immediately stopped.
“What have I done?” he said aloud in German. “What have I DONE?!” he repeated even louder.
He shifted his eyes from the dead soldier on the ground to the violently trembling youth still standing with his hands raised over his head. The boy was shaking his head with pure fear in his eyes, repeating over and over, “Don’t shoot!”
Karl looked down at the fresh corpse he’d just created. He felt panic take over his breathing. Every breath felt like a labored effort. Slowly, he shifted his eyes to the frightened boy’s. He held his terrified gaze for what seemed like hours, but was in actuality only a few moments. Without even knowing that his weapon was pointed at the young soldier’s midsection, he squeezed the trigger. Half a dozen bullets entered the kid’s stomach. The young American clutched his abdomen and fell over into the cold snow as the life leaked out of him.
With his last worldly effort, the boy looked into his enemy’s eyes and communicated one word without uttering a syllable: Why? Karl turned his back to his second victim and ran as fast as his legs would carry him, through the crunching snow, in an attempt to flee his misdeed. He hadn’t told any of his comrades what had happened during his failed attempt to transfer prisoners. He simply nodded when his sergeant asked if he’d completed his task.
A distant artillery explosion brought Karl back to the present moment where he stood facing his secret killing ground engulfed in fog and darkness. He took a deep breath and began walking forward into the lifeless patch of ice-encrusted earth.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. It began again. Only a tickle in his ears at first, but then it began to amplify with every stride.
As he made his way across the open field, his thoughts were haunted by his maniacal episode with the American prisoners. Karl did his best to trick himself into believing he had done no wrong. That it was just an accident. I didn’t mean it. I was confused! I would never gun someone down in cold blood like that. I’m a good man. A German hero even! I earned a medal for bravery in a previous campaign. Heroes don’t do things like that on purpose.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. He could feel his teeth grind together with every step he took.
His internal convincing only comforted him for a few moments until the other half of his brain took over and slammed him with guilt. He began to panic and his breathing sped up to a violent rate. I’m a murderer! I should be lined up against a wall and shot by a firing squad. They were unarmed men that caused no threat. And that young boy…
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. The sound made his soul cringe.
He stopped in his tracks to calm himself down. Crunch. Crunch. He heard two rapid footsteps after he’d stopped. He spun around to investigate behind him.
Nothing but a thick layer of fog was visible.
“Oh great, now you’re so paranoid you’re hearing things that aren’t there, Karl,” he said aloud to himself.
Karl closed his eyes, and tried to slow down his breathing. After several deep breaths, he could feel his heart rate return to normal. He made one more attempt to rationalize his actions. You were scared and your adrenaline was running high after a fierce battle. You shouldn’t have done it, but at least you know it was wrong. A murderer wouldn’t admit that, right? War is a confusing thing and terrible things happen. Nobody will ever find out about this. Yes. His questionable actions would all be lost in the dense fog of war. Too much had happened across such a large front for any one man to be pinned for war crimes. Yes. He could still return home a hero and nobody would ever know.
Somewhat comforted by his reasoning, he lifted his leg to continue his walk towards headquarters. But before his first step could penetrate the snow, he heard more steps. This time, the sound came from the front.
His eyes widened and he scanned his front for any signs of movement. Again, only the fog. Perhaps it’s just an animal or a friendly patrol, he thought.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. He continued forward – but with a quickened pace. He clutched his submachine gun in both hands, prepared to fire a burst at anything that may pose a threat. He could feel his palms begin to sweat at the thought of having to shoot someone again.
CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH! CRUNCH! Several footsteps crashed through the snow all around him. And they were not his own. Karl’s panic returned with a vengeance and he shot forward as fast as his legs would carry him.
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! The steps were right behind him now. He lost his balance and fell forward. Screaming with fear, he rolled over on his back and faced his rear and pulled the trigger on his weapon all in one fluid movement. The echo of automatic fire cut through the cold night.
The crunching stopped. The smell of spent gunpowder filled Karl’s nostrils as he lay in the snow looking in the direction where he’d emptied his weapon. He could feel his head getting colder, and he realized his helmet had fallen off in all the commotion. His increasing fright prevented him from looking for his head cover, and his fearful eyes remained trained forward.
Crunch. He heard a singular footstep in the snow behind him. The hairs on his neck stood straight up. And then he felt, one by one, five icy-cold fingers lay across the top of his head. They were so cold.
Suddenly, the slow-moving hand grasped Karl’s hair and pulled with the force of a dozen men. Karl could only scream and look up into the fog as his body was dragged across the frozen ground by this unknown force by his scalp.
After what seemed like an eternity of being pulled into a hellish nightmare, the hand released its grasp. Running on fear-fueled adrenaline, Karl sprang to his feet to face his attacker. For what he saw next, no amount of army training could prepare him. In front of him was a gruesomely mangled former American solider. His skin was icy blue and his jacket was riddled with exit wounds from a submachine gun. The ghoul had a familiar shade of dark hair and a hole through its head. The figure began crunching towards Karl. Karl turned and ran.
But after only a few steps, he ran smack dab into what felt like a tank and collapsed to his knees. Compared to the image that stood before him, Karl wish it had been a tank. A man – really more of a boy – stared back at him with empty, lifeless eyes. He had half a dozen bloodied holes in his jacket. He too had icy blue skin. And his hair was all too familiarly blonde. Karl knew who – or rather what – he was looking at.
Exhausted and too scared to move, Karl simply looked up and began to weep. The ghoul extended its hands towards Karl and begin to grip his throat. From behind him, Karl heard one final set of crunches before feeling icy cold “breath” on his neck. And once he felt the teeth sink into his skin, he began to scream.
Karl – what was left of him – was swallowed by the fog of war, never to be seen again.