20th Century Wars

In 1957, at the age of eight, I interviewed Conrad Kreitzer in Wapakoneta, Ohio about what he called “a life changing experience” while serving in WWI. When I arrived he told me to go out back of house, while he got something to bring out to the picnic table to help him tell his story. When Conrad came out, he had something wrapped in a hanky he placed on the picnic table between us.

He slowly unwrapped it like some holy relic. It was a brass shell casing. Shining in the sun, it excited my anticipation of the story. He told me not to touch it until he had completed his story. “I didn’t want to go to war, especially since my people like yours Jim had come from Alsace in southern Germany where war was being fought. I didn’t want to fight on land of my people, against the people I had come from! But there was so much anti-German feeling in America, in hometown here in Wapakoneta, I had to go to show my patriotic loyalty. I felt sick all during military training, shooting and bayoneting dummies with “Hun” written on them. Psychological training full of anti German words of pure hatred. I recall as we entered training those trained, heading for front were all bright eyed and bushy tailed for action; same way group I’d trained with left for front with same excited look. When we arrived at front, those same boys were leaving field with something frightingly dead in their eyes and we were headed to take their place in those muddy, bloody trenches! When whistle blew we were up, over the top out of the trench. It was madness! Attacking and retreating back and forth across that battlefield, low hazy visibility from foggy weather, smoke of shot and shell, while trying to see through the celluloid of my gas mask. With bayonets out front of us endlessly attacking and retreating across that field. At one point charging across battlefield, I spotted soldier with spike helmet running beside me. Recognizing at same time we were enemy, we both like in some horrid cartoon took off in opposite directions. Not wanting to lose my direction in that field, I memorized shattered tree with horizontal limb I’d run back and forth beneath.

“On one trip I felt a blow to my head, knocking my helmet off. I thought I’d been shot. No blood just a bump on forehead. Then in light of shell burst, I was puzzled by the fact my head had hit that limb? But how it was so high up? Then in another burst I saw I was no longer running on ground, my position elevated to hit limb because I WAS RUNNING ACROSS THE EVER HIGHER STACKS OF DEAD BODIES! At one point exhausted from attacking, retreating across that muddy, bloody field of horrible gore, I jumped down into a shell crater. I laid back, pushed my gas mask off and when my eyes had adjusted to gloom, I noticed with a start a soldier laying beside me with a badly broken leg! Then saw he was a German officer! Neutralized by pain, he did not move, just lay staring at me. The war was over for him; but as a warning, I leaned over and brought my rifle up so my bayonet was aimed at his chest.

“It was then he got this strange smile on his face. Jim, he looked at that moment like every blond haired, blue eyed German American kid I’d grown up with in Ohio. But then he pulled his hand up, pulling with it a pistol on a wrist tie; reaching into his coat to pull out A BULLET! THAT BULLET on the picnic table. Confused by his strange smile, and thinking he’s crazy, and going to put the bullet in pistol to shoot me… I bayoneted him. First thrust stuck in his ribs, and when got it free, bayoneted him once more. When he got this strangely confused, suprised look on his face; I started yelling at him in German. ‘Why you so shocked? This is war. We’re enemies here to kill each other!?’

“As he died, the shell casing…that shell casing rolled out of his hand. With whistle, I joined my troops in retreat. As we were marched toward rear, we passed new recruits staring with excitement into our dead eyes. I suddenly felt a pain in my hand? To excuse my deadly action, I imagined pain in my hand a pistol wound from the crazed German. That’s why I killed him! Then I saw the pain in my hand as I opened my clenched fist was from that shell casing I was clutching so tight! I didn’t remember picking it up in that crater. Staring at shell casing in open palm, hand sweat had exposed strange slot in its side. Clutching it with both hands, it slowly began to swivel… AND IT ALL SUDDENLY MADE SENSE! German’s strange smile? Suddenly reaching for the shell casing? Shock of my bayoneting him?” Conrad Kreitzer explained to my confused look. “When I’d reached down to pull my rifle’s bayonet up in warning, my Catholic crucifix swung from open coat. German spotted it, smiled and reached for shell casing to show me why we need not kill each other as I bayoneted him’.” Conrad handed me the shell casing. I noticed a slot in it. Conrad told me “Twist it and see the terrible truth of this WWL experience!”

I sat at that picnic table staring in shocked silence at the shell casing made into a Catholic shrine. Conrad said to me “I’d bayoneted him while he was trying to show me that we are both Catholias, both being Christians, no need to killl one another as brothers in Christ! Jim, people need to see this deeper, Soulful view of war and with what you’ve written down here today with the help of the shell casing shrine I’m giving you, I want you to promise me you will tell my story for the rest of your life, which being so young will be a very long time!” I PROMISED.