Ulysses found his voice, “ I am Ulysses Brown. I fought for my country, but now I am tired. They said you were all Huns, vicious and cruel. You seem not so. Why do you suppose we fight? I saw my men broken, and bruised; I led them in charges against you. Probably against your boy, as well, and that wood, Belleau, is where I suffered these wounds.”
Ulysses pulled from his pocket the Silver Star, “ They gave me this, while I was half dead in a hospital bed. They told me it was for valiant courage, but like you I was the last one alive. I do not feel daring, or bold. I only feel sick for home. I was given papers because of my wounds. The ambulance wrecked out in No-Man’s-Land, and here I crawled to find some respite. But now, as fate would rule my life again, I am your prisoner, my journey is at its end.”
The Prussian’s eyes watered, and he grasped Ulysses’ clubbed hands, “Worry not friend.”
The German walked to a field telephone in the propped in the corner, as he picked up the receiver a hiss and boom, a cacophony of thunder shook the air. The Old Prussian tapped the phone again and shrugged.
“It seems those shells have cut the lines, no prisoner of mine will you be. I think you need to get to the rails, to find home.”
The German led Ulysses outside, where he hoisted him up into a wagon. He covered the broken soldier with a tarp, “We will be near the rail station anon, my friend Ulysses Brown. Rest easy while I drive us around.”
He heard the German, who never mentioned his name, slap the horse team with the reigns. The cart bumped across the rutted land. Ulysses smelled sulfur, cordite, and heard crack of rifle fire. It seemed to take hours to make their way, but when they did stop it was daybreak.
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