Battle of the Rhine

Michael was mad—yes, he thought he could use that description.Quincy pushed him hard, hurling insults in German with English in between. "Calm down!" Michael gestured to Franz while ducking, "Don't you fucking scare Charlie!"

"How dare you mention Charlie!" Quincy yelled, "You—"

He drank, probably not very drunk, so the "rapist" was swallowed back.Of course, he was definitely not trying to save face for Michael, but for himself, "The Yankee who lives in the house is a rapist, and it was me who raped." Sounds like a plot out of a horror novel.

"Carl!" Charlie screamed, throwing herself over and trying to hug her brother, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's all my fault—"

"Get out!" Quincy shook off Charlie's hand, "immediately, immediately!"

Franz left with a weeping Charlie in his arms, closing the door behind him.Three, two, one, as if the trigger was pulled, Quincy and Michael wrestled into a ball, cursing, "Fiennes, you bastard, rascal...disgusting scum..."

"I'm a disgusting scumbag, so don't climb on my bed at night." Michael retorted, "You asked me if I wanted to fuck you, didn't you? Are you addicted to being raped by me—"

Before the words fell, a glass bottle exploded on Michael's head.Michael was using the glass bottle as a vase while the fake plastic rose lay pitifully in a puddle of water.Michael wiped his face, perfect, bled, but spared the eye.Quincy stood a few paces away from him, seemingly startled by the loud bang of the glass shattering.

"I'm a rapist, yeah, I admit it. How do you want me to make it up to you?" Adrenaline, adrenaline, Michael remembered, thankfully it wasn't war time, he didn't have a Ruger, and he didn't have a Thomson "da da da ".Five years ago, under the stimulation of adrenaline, he would have shot Quincy first, and then shot himself in the temple. "Kill me? Beat me? How can I cheer you up, Master Quincy? Be your servant? Kneel for you? How about you fuck me once? Twenty-three times? Is that fair enough?"

Quincy stared at him blankly, holding the wedding photo in his hand.Emma, ​​lol, Emma.Blood gushed into his mouth, hot and salty.Michael had never had his head broken by artillery fire on the battlefield. He never expected that five years after the war ended, he would actually taste the taste of blood in a house with a warm living room.After a few seconds, Quincy moved toward him mechanically like a wind-up doll, and Michael pushed him away, spitting out the blood that was pouring into his mouth, "Fuck you!" He put on his coat at the door, changed his shoes, and left without looking back.

Michael first went to the hospital to bandage the wound on his head, which was just a small opening.The doctor used tweezers to find the glass shards and washed the wound with water, which made him grin his teeth in pain.Then he wandered aimlessly through the streets. After coming to Munich, he hadn't visited those squares and streets much.Both sides of the street are covered with scaffolding, and the sun is lifeless.Michael had a sudden craving for fried chicken and chips, and for God's sake he was an American and didn't know how he could survive on sausage.

On this failed Saturday, Michael also got into a fight with some youngsters.He found a bar to drink at random. Germans really fucking like alcohol. In this regard, there is almost no difference between Germany and Russia.Michael ignored the doctor's orders and ordered a mug of beer.There is a kind of "October Festival" in Munich. People gather together to drink beer and make a lot of noise.Michael sulked and drank, and soon got drunk.

Because of what to fight with people, Michael can't remember.Maybe it was his accent that gave away his identity. A nasty Yankee, swaggering and domineering in Germany, a camel cigarette can be exchanged for fifteen hundred marks. "Are you here to get rich, too?" he recalled a young man exclaiming. "It's not 1947!"

Fuck you, Michael is lying on a hard plank bed in the hotel.Head, arms, back, dull aches everywhere. "You're a persona non grata," Michael said defiantly to himself, "rapist, trash, scum—"

Michael slept all day on Sunday.On Monday he went to work, much to the fright of Mr Franz and little Hans.Hans was a little boy with straw-yellow hair.Michael explained that he got into fights when he was drunk and it was okay.

"You really don't need to go home and rest?"

"It's okay, it's okay, let's go to work."

Michael stayed at the hotel for four days.After changing the bandages on his head twice, he made up his mind to find a house and move away from Quincy.He couldn't bear such piecemeal torture.As a result, at noon on Thursday, when Michael was looking at the drawings and eating a hamburger, Little Hans said that there was a girl outside who was "like a fairy by the lake".

Xia Li was wrapped in a large scarf and wore a delicate hat, "Mike," she looked at the bandage on Michael's head in amazement, "Are you okay?"

"I got drunk and got into a fight." Michael pulled out a chair and wiped it clean with a paper. "Please sit down and let me find a clean cup—tea or coffee?"

Xia Li held the coffee in exactly the same posture as her brother, "Mike, aren't you going back home? I heard you haven't been home for several days, so..."

"I'm just renting there, it's not my house," Michael said stiffly, and at the same time berated himself for speaking to a little girl like that, then slowed down and said as gently as possible, "I mean, sorry, Xia Li, I probably shouldn't be renting your brother's house, it doesn't make him happy."

"I thought Carl quit drinking," Charlie whispered. "I'm sorry, Mike, I apologize to you on his behalf...forgive him, he's not usually like this."

"I suggest you take him to see a doctor." Michael secretly wiped his fingers on the overalls, "He has 'legionary syndrome', a friend of mine also has this problem, drinking alcohol every day, and quarreling after drinking fights with his wife... beats the family dog, yes, he even beats the hapless old dog."

"I've begged him many times, Mike," Charlie bit her lip, blushing in embarrassment, "he won't go to the doctor. Our father died early, and our mother left before the war ended, and she didn't Can live until his brother comes back. Carl is not only because of Emma, ​​I feel that he has changed when he came back...Emma's death only exacerbated his...symptoms. Eyes open at night. He first started drinking, just to sleep for a while after getting drunk... Some people say that the prisoner-of-war camp is terrible, worse than hell. An officer I know committed suicide. One night, I found Karl crawling To the balcony, drunk. Foley dragged him back, and he beat Foley like crazy... Another time, he was sitting there, bleeding a lot... a lot of blood," the girl terrified Trembling, "He poked himself randomly with a knife."

"The month you have been here has been the happiest time for Karl in the past five years. I can feel it. I am his biological sister." Xia Li begged, with tears rolling in her eyes, "Go back and see him , I'll pay you, okay? He refuses to go back to the old house, and he won't let me move in with him. I can't help it, Mike, you're his only friend. Forgive him, Mike, please .”