His chest heaved with sobs. The pain in his arm and leg so terrible, no words could express it. Only a dull moan escaped his clenched teeth. He shook with the fear that left no strength in him. Thoughts of his mother and family at home caused the tears to come faster. His blurry eyes saw an American walk towards him and swing his pack to the ground. The shame of being a prisoner to the enemy bowed his head.

“Do you speak English?”

He glanced up in surprise and could only nod.

The American checked his leg where he had made a makeshift splint. It was broken.

“That will do for now, Let me see that arm.”

The young German was shocked as the American, his enemy, took such gentle hold of his arm and examined the wound. Fishing a few things from his pack, the man cleaned it with a touch so comforting, it caused wonder to take the place of the shame and anger he felt. This man was not a monster, or an animal as he had heard his ruthless leader express so many times. Perhaps the Führer was wrong.

When the bandage was tied, the blood flow lessening, the American slipped a touch of morphine under his tongue.

“That should help with the pain. . .”

“Warum tun Sie dies. Why you do this?” He was so confused. No American should be treating him this way. He was a prisoner and it was only just. Had he not just been trying to hurt the American’s themselves?

“Because you are a human being. I would do nothing less to ease the suffering of any man, whether he be a German, a Jew, or an American.”

“Vielen Dank Herr. Tank you.” That was much to think about. The gratitude he felt could not be measured.

“You are welcome. Bitte.”

This writing prompt was very interesting and touching for me to do. I almost cried when I saw the picture and knew instantly I had to write about it. At first I had planned to do it from the American’s perspective, but the sudden inspiration to go inside the head of the young german, hardly older than a boy and probably terrified gripped me so hard I couldn’t shake it. I pray the Lord would grant me the same compassion to minister to someone, even if he is an enemy. To see past the outward motive and to their hearts.

What did you think of this writing prompt? Be sure to let me know in the comments below!

By God’s grace,

Victoria