Battle of the Rhine

For Carl Jr., a generation born after the war, guns are no different. "I have one too," Michael said. "I got it from the field... German officers loved a Luger back then. But his was an old-fashioned one, a P08, and...well, I met When he got to him, he didn't have a Luger on him, you know what I mean? I checked his belongings and he didn't even have a battered K98, let alone a pistol."

"That is to say, that Luger is not Uncle's gun?" Little Carl grasped the point keenly. Michael couldn't help but went to the refrigerator to get two cans of Coke, and Little Carl immediately shouted, "Uncle won't let you—"

"He's afraid that if I drink too much Coke, I'll become a big fat man." Michael snorted coldly, "I prefer to drink it! Anyway, he doesn't want me anymore. Well, I asked him with a gun, where did this thing come from. He became furious , Said it was his collection. Damn collection! I said, this is not your gun, what do you do with a gun? He said, no matter my business, he is willing to buy a gun-he bought it on the black market, 50 In the [-]s, in order to change money, what can't be found on the black market? He came across it and thought it was a beautiful gun, so he bought it. 'Do you have an opinion?' Listen! He used this tone, bossy, I was so angry, When someone buys beef on the black market, he buys a gun on the black market, and you don’t mean to do anything good with a gun. He got mad and yelled at me, ‘You old bastard, you don’t have a place to speak here!’”

Little Carl took a sip of the Coke, looking like he was holding back a smile. "Don't laugh, boy," Michael said gravely. "He bought guns and bullets on the black market in the '50s, which was scary in itself. He wasn't the type to love guns. I lived with him for decades... ...Do you think our relationship is deformed?"

"What are you talking about!" Little Carl stood up, "Mike, you have taken care of me as long as I can remember, you are like my own uncle. Your relationship with Uncle Carl is quite unusual, but it is not a rare thing .We have a lot of schools...California people are used to it. Emily used to say, if you can live like you two, who cares about gender?"

"Dear child, sit down, sit down." Michael smiled wryly, "How about we do this? Oh, he has some books, huh, he thinks that I, an uneducated rural person, can't read them, so he put them on the bookshelf On. Actually I read. Psychology, ha! Have you ever heard of the Stockholm Syndrome? That is, under special circumstances, the victim develops feelings for the perpetrator—he’s the victim and I’m the perpetrator. Because I Buy him new socks and sugar, give him a few packs of coffee, and he's misunderstood—oh, that's what he thinks. Since last year he's been estranged from me and offered to sleep in separate beds. He's moved upstairs, and he doesn't How to talk to me. I wrote a letter, made a phone call, went to the choir, and he scolded me, mocked me...you don't know how hurtful his mouth can be, I love him so much..."

He covered his face and cried sadly.Michael Fiennes is a fragile old chap now!When Carl Jr. came over and patted him on the back to comfort him, Michael wiped his face and thought, 50 years ago, he never expected that he would turn into this old and weak look. "He, he still hooked up with that Frenchman! I remember it all! In 1968, he went to Paris to see an art exhibition, and met that nasty frog in the art gallery. How could it be such a coincidence! They had an appointment long ago Well! The French Frog with his wife, and his wife with her girlfriend--there is no such thing in the world! A chaotic family. The frog wife kept winking at him and invited him to a cup of tea. They A group of people muttering in French, I can only stand there and look at the painting. I'm the only one looking at the painting! It's full of circles, lines, and dots... like a child's graffiti. Looking at the painting is obviously his excuse... He just wants to fool around with frogs!"

"It makes me feel better to say it." Michael patted Carl's arm, "I figured it out, I'm old, but he's still handsome. He dumped me, and the Stockholm syndrome was cured. I'm in It’s also very good here, herding cows, listening to music, and being free. There are a lot of old men and old ladies around here, and I’ll make some new friends... Don’t laugh! I’m serious! You really think I’m your dear Uncle, let your younger brother inquire about my pension and insurance. I only have a little money left, which is not enough to buy a second-hand tractor!"

How to deal with cross-border pensions and insurance has not yet been settled, and little Carl hurried over to tell him that something is wrong.Quincy fell ill, and the whole family panicked. "Uncle claims to revoke the will," Carl Jr. repeated, "and won't let you be the executor!"

"I didn't even want to!" Michael paced up and down the porch. "Is he sick? What's wrong? He must have forgotten to take his medicine..."

"Go back and have a look at him!" Little Carl begged, "Please! Uncle Mike, Uncle Carl refused to go to the hospital. My mother fell ill! For my mother's sake—"

This must be a lie, Michael knew it well.But there is no way, he has not adapted to the climate of his hometown and the open fields, he misses the bustling streets of Munich, the puppet show at St. Marian Square, and the mellow dark beer.Besides, Michael thought, his entire salary was in Quincy's account, so he couldn't take advantage of the damn college student!After receiving the money, he would return to the United States, find a place, such as New York, and buy a small house to support his life.This time he made up his mind that he must "break up" with Quincy. He wanted to break up first, for the sake of the dignity of the United States!

Come on, old Mike.In less than a day, modern technology sent him back to Munich.Ilona picked him up in a car, "Mike, I'm so glad to see you! None of us can handle Uncle Carl, this eccentric old man..."

"Is he old? You can go to the street with him!" Michael looked at the familiar scenery outside the window, "—how is he?"

"I can sit up today." Ilona smiled. "We didn't tell him you were back. He seemed to have a premonition and insisted on getting up early in the morning to watch TV."

"There's a ball game today."

"No."

"There must be. You'd better look at the Premier League game schedule."

"You guys!"

The streets are very quiet in the afternoon, just like they were decades ago.Several huge gray birds walked around the flower beds, pecking at the grass seeds in the crevices of the stones.Michael got out of the car, and in front of Quincy's house, the roses he planted quietly bloomed, champagne, Quincy's favorite color.

"I'm back." Michael took out the key from the old place and opened the door.The noise of the TV blared in the living room, and the football commentator screamed excitedly.He saw Quincy sitting on the sofa with Ardennes III lying at his feet.The dog raised its head quickly when it heard the sound, and greeted Michael with a wagging tail. "Sweetheart," Michael rubbed Arden III's furry head, and resentfully walked to the sofa and sat down, "—Bayern can't win."

"Bayern are the champions," Quincy said, his hands on his knees, his knuckles tinged with red.

"...Yes, I am the loser." Michael sighed, and pulled his college student to kiss him.

end

Michael and Quincy traveled a lot, but rarely did they go out to see the Rhine.Every spring, Michael will go to the American soldiers cemetery alone to visit Tim's grave.Quincy went to another cemetery to visit the resting Emma.This is their tacit agreement.

"The river is much cleaner than before." Michael found a bench. "Look, the boat."

"I don't like the Rhine very much," Quincy said, "but remember to scatter my ashes in this river when I die."

"Bullshit."

"Don't even think about 'joint burial', it's too nasty—"

"Well, that's what I think, because we've been married, and married couples will be buried together after death." Michael watched the huge passenger ship slowly passing by, "I don't want my ashes to be buried together." Sprinkled in the river...it's cold, isn't it?"

Quincy chuckled, and took the medal box from Michael's backpack. "It's a nice gun, isn't it? I don't have a Luger, it's too late, and my mother doesn't have time to order one for me. I saw this gun on the black market... At that time, I was in pain, and every day was suffering I'm ready, the house is cleaned, there's enough food for Friday's supper. When I'm done, I'm leaving. I've written my suicide note, leaving the house and all my belongings to Charlie. But I didn't expect..."

"Here you are, like a fool, staring at a woman with shrunken shoulders in a daze."

"I do not have--"

"Okay, all in all, you saved me." Quincy touched the pistol, "I can't kill you, even though you did something bad." He stood up, threw the pistol into the rushing Rhine, followed by eight A bullet, and finally the Iron Cross and half a military badge. "I hate war." He looked at Michael, his blue eyes still shining like they were fifty years ago.

"I have to admit, you're right." Michael also stood up and took Quincy's hand, "However, the war made me know you. So I don't regret it. I surrendered, Carl. I didn't really Be the victor of the war—from the first moment I saw you on the Rhine, I lost this battle, completely."

It's over!There will be a companion chapter, guess who the main character is?