(This is a fictional, erotic and romantic set of short wartime stories with a strong political message, for which I make no apologies.)
Episode 1 -- On the Battlefield
It was during the Second World War, and like millions of others all over the world I'd been conscripted to fight for the old men who had started the whole thing. Old men like Churchill, Roosevelt, Stalin, Hitler, Mussolini and Emperor Hirohito, relatively safe in their underground bunkers, etc. whilst we youngsters, barely out of school, were sent out to kill each other.
I found myself on a battlefield in Southern Germany near the Swiss border. I'd been in several battles, and like some of my fellow soldiers I'd always deliberately fired my gun to miss the enemy, because I was basically a pacifist. I didn't care if I died, but I didn't want to be responsible for killing someone else's young son. I'd tried to avoid being called up, but they didn't believe me when I said I was a conscientious objector because I was an atheist with no religious beliefs.
Although I was a pacifist, I couldn't help thinking of the advice someone had given to young men made to fight old men's wars. I think it was Lenin who said they should turn their guns on their own officers. If all the young men on all sides fighting this war did that, or simply refused to fight or deserted to a neutral country, the war would be over tomorrow.
We had been ordered to `mop up' after our battalion had attacked a village occupied by the Germans. Our orders were to take no prisoners, every German soldier we found was to be killed. I wasn't told the reason for this order, which was illegal, but knew it was not uncommon in wartime where all sorts of atrocities occur because the normal rules of decent human behavior have broken down. I'd seen men and children killed and the women raped, and my fellow soldiers laughed at me because I refused to take part in any of it.
Look, here's a gorgeous young fraulein,' said my buddy after we entered one house and he had shot dead the woman's father and mother. Rape her, go on -- she's begging for it.' I was horrified, but he had been brutalized by the army and the hatred, anarchy and inhumanity of war. As far as I was concerned, he was no better than the Nazis. Just a steely-eyed killing machine, as a British officer had proudly described every one of his men.
I thought of turning and walking away, but that wouldn't save the girl, who I feared would be killed after my buddy had finished with her. So I took her in the bedroom. My buddy wanted to come in and watch, and then rape her himself, but I locked the door behind me. The poor girl looked very scared, and was heartbroken because her parents had just been shot.
Quick, climb out of the window!' I said. She didn't understand English, so I went over to the window and opened it. There were no soldiers around, and there was a forest a few yards away. She might stand a chance if she could make it to the trees. I pointed to the open window and said some of the few German words I knew: Ausgehen, schnell, schnell!'
She rushed to the window and made her escape. I watched her flee towards the trees, then I turned to the door, but heard something move beneath the bed. I stooped down and saw a young lad, about 16. He looked very frightened, and he had tears in his big blue eyes. I pulled him out from under the bed. `Rape him!' The words came into my head, for I was gay, and whilst I had no desire to have sex with women, this beautiful young lad with flaxen blond hair was giving me a rock-hard erection inside my uniform trousers. He was entirely within my power, and whatever I did to him there would be no come-back. As the victor in war, I could do what I liked with him. He looked down and saw my trousers sticking out obscenely, and looked even more scared.
`Bitte, nein, nein!' he pleaded.
Of course I wouldn't do it. Not unless he gave me some encouragement and wanted me to. I pointed to the window, and said the same thing to him: `Ausgehen, schnell!' He made for the window, but before he climbed out he turned and kissed me full on the lips.
`Danke schen!' he said, then he climbed out and was gone. I watched him follow his sister safely into the forest.
I had some explaining to do when I unlocked the door and faced my buddy. I just said the window was open and the girl escaped. His reaction was that I should have shot her so there were no witnesses to the atrocity he had committed, but I told him my gun had jammed.
Now here I was in a similar situation, ordered to go into a German village and kill any enemy soldiers we found. Once in the village we came under sniper fire. In the confusion I was able to slip away from my fellow soldiers, and enter a house on my own. Inside, cowering behind the window, was a young German soldier, no older than me -- about 18. Like so many German youths he was the Aryan ideal -- blond hair, blue eyes -- just my type. They really shouldn't conscript gays into the army, let alone pacifist gays. Did they really expect me to kill a beautiful guy like this? I'd rather he shot me instead.
When he saw me enter with my gun, he dropped his, put his hands up, cowered down and pleaded with me: `Bitte, please -- do not shoot!' Obviously he thought other Allied soldiers were behind me and he was outnumbered.
My orders rang thru my head: `Take no prisoners. Kill the Kraut bastards! Kill every one of them!'
I went over to the German soldier -- he was trembling with fear. I put my gun down and reached out to him, but he pulled away, thinking I was going to kill him with my bare hands. He evidently knew some English, so I spoke to him:
`It's OK, I'm not going to hurt you. What's your name?'
`M.. meine Namen? My name it is Karl, p.. please don't kill me' he stammered.
I reached out and took hold of his hands. They were clammy with sweat. I pulled him up and towards me.
`It's all right, I'm not going to hurt you, I'm Jack. I'm your friend.' I said. What was I saying? How could I be his friend? I had been ordered to kill him, and the village was swarming with Allied soldiers. But I knew I had to try to save him.
Still he didn't quite trust me, his lips were trembling with fear. So I pulled him close to me, embraced him and kissed him on the lips saying: `It's all right, I won't hurt you. We must escape.'
His reaction was instantaneous. The German soldier hugged me tight, and kissed me back. As we hugged, I could feel his cock getting hard thru his uniform, and he must have felt mine in the same condition. There, in the middle of the war-zone, this German soldier and myself started to make love. We kissed, we cuddled, we grinded our hips together. Then we undid out fly-buttons and jerked each other. I went down on him, and pretty soon a big German soldier's cock was shooting its cream into my mouth. I stood up, with my mouth full of this young lad's cum, and he returned the favor. He went down on me, and soon I was feeding him my load. We stood up again, and stared at each other, our lips covered with each other's sperm. We kissed again, exchanging the spunk in our mouths.
Suddenly there was a noise outside. I motioned him to be quiet, then I ran out to the front door. A British soldier stood there pointing a gun at me.
`It's OK, I've checked this building -- nobody here!' I said, and the soldier turned and went. I then noticed a British army jeep outside, with a dead British soldier at the wheel. I motioned to Karl to stay where he was, and after I made sure the coast was clear, I ran to the jeep, pushed the driver's body to one side, and started the engine. I drove the jeep over to the door of the house where Karl was hiding. I then man-handled the body of the dead British soldier out of the jeep and into the house. With Karl's help we managed to strip him of his uniform. Then Karl got out of his uniform -- God, he had a beautiful body! But I had little time for such carnal thoughts, and told him to put on the dead British soldier's uniform quickly.
He put on the clothes, but then turned to his discarded uniform and retrieved something from the pocket.
`Quick! We must go, hurry up. Schnell, Schnell!' I said to him.
Now dressed as a British soldier, he climbed in the jeep beside me, and I started the motor. I drove out of the village, and headed for the Swiss border a few miles away. We saw few soldiers, either Allied or Axis troops, on the way. I just put my foot down and ignored everything and everyone, till we spotted the border post. We drove thru at full speed, some border guards shooting at our jeep as we passed. Once safely across and several miles into Switzerland, we abandoned the jeep, and walked to the nearest village. We were going to make for the police station and claim asylum in this neutral country.
As we were walking thru the woods on our way from the jeep into the village, we stopped for another love-making session. It was beautiful. We achieved full penetration this time -- I fucked Karl, and then he fucked me. After we had both climaxed inside each other, we just lay there cuddling and kissing for about an hour.
`Ich liebe dich, I love you' said Karl, and I told him how much I loved him too.
`What was it you took out of your uniform pocket back in the house?' I asked him.
Karl smiled, and took out of his pocket a little wallet. Inside were some photos. His mother, father, sister, brother and their little pet dog. I then showed him the photos of my own family which I carried in my pocket. I thought how crazy this war was -- here we were, two young lads who were ordered to kill each other, yet we were so similar. We had no reason to hate each other, we had just been conscripted into our respective countries' armies, we had no say in the matter. It was old men who led us into this war, and old men who gave the orders to the troops in their command to kill, rape and destroy.
When I saw the photos of Karl's family it brought home to me that all the German soldiers fighting this war were some mother's son. Many of them were not real Nazis, they were just conscripts. We didn't then know the full horror of the Nazi concentration camps, but I did know the Nazis were brutal thugs. But my Karl was no Nazi, I knew that.
`Don't worry, you'll see your family soon, when the war is over,' I said.
Then Karl said something which broke my heart:
`No, I'll never see them again. They are all dead. They died in a British air-raid,' he said, as tears rolled down his cheeks. I held him close to me and kissed away his tears.
Oh, I'm so sorry!' I said, The murdering barbarians! The RAF -- bloody war criminals. Why do they have to bomb innocent civilians?'
After the war we learnt of the firestorm, started by British incendiary bombs, which destroyed the beautiful city of Dresden, and similar controversial air-raids on Hamburg and Berlin which killed thousands of civilians - men, women and children. The British airmen who carried out these raids, and the Americans who dropped atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, never faced a tribunal and were never punished for their heinous war crimes. Instead they are still feted as heroes. Bomber Harris, who along with Churchill ordered the British air-raids, even has a statue erected to him in London.
It still makes me feel sick that nobody on the Allied side was tried for killing indiscriminately thousands upon thousands of innocent civilians. These war crimes went unpunished, and this is what is known as `Victors' Justice'.
Karl then apologized to me for what the Luftwaffe, unmanned flying bombs and V2 rockets had done to cities like London and Coventry, committing war crimes against the British people. We hugged again, and then made our way to the village and asylum from this crazy war. Whatever happened, whoever won the war, we were all human beings with families of our own. If only we could remember that, and reach out to each other, ignoring the old men who told us to fight for our country, or for this cause or that cause. If only we could remember our humanity and forget the rest, as the philosopher Bertrand Russell said.
If only, like Karl and myself, we could learn to make love, not war!
It is now 60 years since the war ended. Karl and I are still lovers. We are in our late 70s, and living in an old people's home in Munich. We still share a bed. I am so glad I never followed orders over 60 years ago -- Karl was the best thing that ever happened to me, and he says the same thing about me.
... To be continued. Episode 2 - Under Occupation