"I'm sorry you had to see that," Regina said softly, putting away the tray containing my now watery food. She began to wipe some of the bedsheets that had been hit by her tears, her eyes now as red as an apple.
"It's alright, Regina," I smiled, understanding the pain of losing someone close to you, especially since I lost everything after being thrown into this timeline.
As Regina finished wiping my bedsheets, she took the tray and asked, "I'm sorry about your food, Hautpamnn. If you want, I could get you another one."
"It's alright, Regina. I'm already full," I assured her.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Then if you need anything, Hutpmann, just call me," she said as she walked towards the exit.
"It's Nietzsche," I interjected.
"What?"
"Call me Nietzsche, Regina, not Hautpamnn. After all, I've been kicked out of the army," I said, smiling at her.
Her mouth opened slightly in surprise as she processed my words, then she smiled back and said, "Understood, Mr. Nietzsche."
A couple of minutes passed before I spoke again.
"Regina?"
"Yeah?"
"If you want to keep admiring my handsome face, it seems now is not the time," I teased.
"What?" Her face turned a little red.
"The food tray, Miss Regina," I clarified.
"Oh, yes," she responded, turning around and disappearing outside of the tent.
16 December 1915
Christmas was drawing near, and finally, Regina relented, allowing me to step outside after days of being confined indoors. As I emerged, the sight before me was breathtaking. The landscape was transformed into a winter wonderland, with snow covering everything in sight.
"What a beautiful place," I whispered to myself, taking in the scene. Trees stood tall, their branches adorned with glistening snow, and the air was crisp with the chill of winter. Despite the cold, there was a sense of tranquility in the air, a peacefulness that seemed to envelop the surroundings.
In the distance, I could see soldiers gathering firewood for the night. Their figures moved against the white backdrop, their breath visible in the frosty air. Despite the hardships of war, there was a sense of determination among them, a resolve to make the most of the holiday season despite being far from home.
As I watched them work, a sense of gratitude washed over me. Despite the turmoil of war, there was still beauty to be found in the world, still moments of peace and tranquility amidst the chaos.
Then I walked around, trying to breathe in the fresh air, the distant sound of artillery fire served as a grim reminder of the ongoing war. Nurses hurried about, tending to the wounded and sick, their dedication evident in their every movement.
"It seems I will be spending Christmas here," I mused to myself, resigned to the reality of my situation.
Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder, a touch that felt eerily familiar. Turning around, I was met with the sight of a group of young soldiers, about twelve of them in total. The one who had placed his hand on my shoulder spoke up.
"Excuse me, sir, but are you Hutpmann Nietzsche?" he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.
"Yes," I confirmed, raising an eyebrow at their reaction.
"So, it's really him."
"I couldn't believe it."
"Damn."
As the other soldiers behind the young man whispered among themselves, I couldn't help but wonder what had sparked their interest in me.
"Gefreiter Heinz Sir" the young soldier said as he salute to me follow by the other soldier behind me.
"Ah, Gefreiter Heinz, at ease," I said, returning his salute, followed by saluting the other soldiers behind him.
"Do you need anything, Gefreiter?" I inquired.
"Sorry, sir, we were just curious about you, sir," he replied nervously.
"At ease, soldiers. I'm not going to eat you," I reassured them, watching as their tense postures relaxed.
"Sir, is it true you massacred the French in their own trenches in the middle of the night?" one of the young soldiers blurted out.
"Sören!!!" exclaimed Gefreiter Heinz, clearly flustered by the question.
"It's alright, Gefreiter. It's true," I admitted with a smile, causing a stir among the group.
"Wow, how did you do it, sir?"
"Did you face any strong French?"
"Is it true they're just weaklings?"
The questions came pouring in, and I found myself surrounded by eager young soldiers, their curiosity palpable.
"Well, I did find many strong ones, but I faced them alone," I replied, my tone tinged with pride despite my lack of hands.
The young soldiers exchanged impressed glances, clearly surprised by my courage despite my physical limitations.
"Alone, sir?" one of them asked, eyes wide with disbelief.
I nodded, my expression serious. "Yes, I moved swiftly and silently through the trenches, relying on stealth and surprise."
As I spoke, I gestured with what remained of my arms, emphasizing the determination and resolve that drove me forward.
"Did you encounter much resistance, sir?" another soldier inquired, leaning in eagerly.
"Indeed, there were challenges," I admitted, my gaze meeting theirs with unwavering conviction. "But with determination and strategic thinking, I was able to overcome them."
The soldiers listened intently, hanging on to every word as I recounted my daring solo mission into enemy territory.
As I took a seat in the snowy landscape, the young soldiers gathered around me, their eyes wide with anticipation as they listened intently to my story.
"It was that night that I found myself on a small hill, positioned just behind the French trenches," I began, my voice steady despite the memories stirring within me. "Before making my move, I paused to offer a prayer to God, asking for protection and guidance."
The soldiers watched me with rapt attention, hanging on to every word as I recounted the events of that fateful night.
"Stealthily, I made my way into the French trenches," I continued, gesturing with what remained of my arms to illustrate the movements I had made. "I took out a sentry with a swift and silent strike, ensuring that my presence went undetected."
Their eyes widened in awe as they imagined the scene unfolding before them.
"Moving cautiously, I kept a vigilant watch on my surroundings," I explained, my gaze sweeping over the snowy landscape as if reliving the moment. "I made sure that no one spotted me as I maneuvered through the maze of trenches, my senses sharp and my resolve unwavering."
"Then, I managed to find an underground bunker," I continued, my voice low and solemn. "Entering it, I saw about four to seven soldiers sleeping inside, with a table laid out with bread, jam, vinegar, and even a bottle of wine. I hadn't eaten for hours after escaping Châlons-en-Champagne, so I moved slowly, careful not to wake the French soldiers, and consumed the food that was left on the table to subdue my hunger. After eating, I killed each one of them in their sleep."
"After killing the soldiers, I moved outside and started eliminating any French soldiers I encountered. As time passed, the sun began to rise, and the last French soldier died in my arms after I snapped their neck. Surveying the French trench, I saw only bodies remaining. Gunning it back to our trenches, I hoped for no artillery fire as I ran across no man's land.
Looking at the young soldier, I remarked, 'It was one of my luckiest days. No artillery.' As I jumped back to the safety of our trench, I even collided with a fellow soldier, causing many of them to point their weapons at me," I said, smiling as I remembered the event.
"That's impressive, Sir," Sören said, looking at me with wide eyes.
"Hahahaha, those French bastards must be pissing their pants after they know an entire line has been devastated," one soldier laughed.
"How did you even get captured, Sir?" Gefreiter Heinz asked, as all of the young soldiers turned to me.
"Well..." I began, but suddenly, I noticed a soldier approaching. He had an eye patch, brown hair, and his rank indicated that he was an Oberleutnant. He saluted me respectfully.
"Hauptmann Nietzsche, forgive me, Sir. Did these men bother you?" he asked, his gaze shifting to the young soldiers who, upon seeing him, immediately rose to their feet and stood upright.
"Not at all, soldier," I said, smiling.
"I'm so sorry, Sir. I will ensure these men do not bother you anymore," he offered.
"It's alright, Oberleutnant...?" I prompted for his name.
"Oberleutnant Ulrich Ansgar, at your service, Sir," he introduced himself, saluting me again.
Returning the salute, I assured him, "They weren't bothering me; it's actually quite enjoyable. You may continue with your duty, Oberleutnant," as I observed him and the younger soldiers.
"Understood, Sir. Men, follow me," he commanded, and all the young soldiers responded with a unified "Yes, Sir," before the Oberleutnant and the young soldiers left.
"Enjoying yourself, Nietzsche?" a voice came from behind. Turning my head, I saw Regina standing there with a smile.
"Well, it's nice to at least retell my story," I responded, smiling back at her.
"After all, a man with no arms can't really do much else."
"Even without arms, you're still a hero of the fatherland," Regina said as she brushed some dust off my uniform shirt, then locked eyes with me. "Never think you're useless, Nietzsche."
"But I am. Rather than fighting against the enemy of the fatherland, I'm being sent home."
"That is an order, Nietzsche," she said, her grip tightening on the collar of my shirt, her eyes intense enough to kill.
"Y...es ma'am," I managed to say as the collar of my shirt was pulled harder.
"Good," she released my collar.
"Now let's go back inside before it gets too cold," she suggested, gesturing for me to walk first back to the medical tent.
"Alright," I said, starting to walk while Regina followed behind, making sure I didn't go elsewhere.
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Since then, I have been spending time inside the medical tent, talking to some of the injured soldiers. Among them are Vizefeldwebel Wigbert, Feldwebel Wieland, and Oberjäger Felix. These men have become my main source of companionship. Wigbert lost his right leg due to an artillery strike, Wieland lost his left eye after being stabbed by an enemy, and Felix was injured in the head after being bashed by a British soldier.
There were what you called eccentric especially Felix as he even didn't care about my rank as a Hautpamnn.
He really like making conversation with me and even playfully flirt with Regina as Regina just smile and always try to be polite to Felix
While Wigbert is a cold Stoner never really have much word to say as he only chimes in a couple of times after that he just listen to our conversation
While Weiland he is what you called a theorist always making theories about anything from high command withholding new tech of weaponry to our government actually playing a game with the other nation government to profit from the war.
"That's what I'm telling you guys, the Kaiser isn't really in charge; it's the industries and the Oberste Heeresleitung who are actually running this war!" Wieland exclaimed, his patched-up eye drawing my focus.
"If that's true, then the French must actually be frog people," Felix joked from his medical bed, not even looking Wieland in the face.
"I'm telling you, all this fighting is for nothing. In the end, they'll just make peace, claiming they were forced to."
"Listen to yourself, Wieland. Now I wonder if I'm really the one who got bashed in the head, or if it's you," Felix retorted, skepticism lacing his tone.
"C'mon, you must believe me; it's so simple. How could you not see it?" he said, and I swear I could see him transforming into Jack Sparrow right before my eyes, I swear to God.
"It all began with the Kaiser. He's actually dead, and the one we see in public is just someone who looks like him, like, like, a double that's under the command of..." I swear I could see his teeth changing and even his skin tone.
'what kind of drugs did they give me?'
"Just shut up, Wieland. I'd rather go back to the hellhole they call the trenches than hear you blabber nonsense," Felix said as he shifted away to avoid seeing Wieland.
"Fine, but when the war is over, I'll tell you 'I told you so,'" Wieland, the pirate, muttered as he slumped into his bed.
I turned my gaze to the right and saw Wigbert ignoring the banter between Felix and Wieland, engrossed in reading a book peacefully.
Then, I remembered the power Thxar had mentioned. For days, I couldn't do anything. I tried everything from Spider-Man hand gestures to summon the power (embarrassingly getting caught by Regina) to attempting to consume some equipment with my leg, from a shovel to a uniform and even a rifle, but nothing worked.
"Meh, I'd rather think about it tomorrow," I muttered as I lay in my bed and closed my eyes.