This Was Our War, Too
All we were trying to do really was prepare for the Raid on Normandy. Really. But now I am a POW in Nazi France. It is rather hard to explain why I joined the Air Force in the RCAF (Royal Canadian Air Force). Maybe for the adventure. Maybe for the change of scenery. Maybe for the fact that I can never die, so weapons mean nothing to me. Vampirism has few perks, but (tentative) immunity to weapons is a nice one.
Before our failed raid, the youngest boy there, just 18, and looking for heroism to show his dad he is nothing like him, told us of his dreams of coming back home to his friends and family with honors and medals alike. We looked at him, years showing on our faces (me only looking about 20), and remained silent. This boy’s ideas of grandeur earned him honors alright, and also a proper soldier funeral.
The POW camp is not, well, it isn’t the Ritz-Carlton. I must say, the thing I miss most is film. I saw the birth of it, and I want to live long enough to see a colorized one. Those aren’t terribly common.
The hardest part of being a POW (I don’t think I mentioned what that stood for. Prisoner of War) is not the grueling, all consuming boredom. In fact, it is the fact that food is not needed, and I cannot eat it. I suppose it would be because this food is mostly vegetables and fruit, and well… there’s no blood in produce.
I know we need to get out of here before anyone realized what I am. I know one day my fellow prisoners will die, and I will not. Then our jailers will find out, and kill me. It’s not like it’s a secret of how to kill my kind.
I have a plan, however. It’s stupid and awful and risky and slightly risque. I’m going to kill the jailers to get my prisoners out. And I have to gain trust of the Nazi’s wife, by, well, you know.
It all started off well, until Ilona died. I had to kill her, you see. That’s what I tell myself. I tried to control the blood lust, but you can imagine. Blood during sex smells better.
I gained her trust early. She wasn’t very faithful to her husband. But, to be fair, her husband is about 23 years older than she.
Once she died, I had to escape fast, before anyone noticed. I only gained her trust for keys to the prison.
I was escorted back to my cell by a security man. No one suspected anything yet, Everyone knew of this tryst I had with Ilona. They knew not to disrupt her for at least two hours after I left.
“Please, listen to me. I am not lying, please!”
They stared at me. “Vampire?”
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“Yes! I am. Why else would I not eat anything?!”
“But a vampire? Hell no, you must have gotten shot in the head back in the raid”.
“NO! Please, if you don’t believe me, just let me get you out of here. I have keys”.
They looked at each other. “Okay”.
We went slowly.
“Hey! Why are you...AAH!” I bit him, and took his blood quickly. He had to die.
“Oh my god. You’re a monster.. I.. we...I need to go back”. I stared at him, blood dripping down my chin. He stayed.
We continued on until the doors were in sight. At least fifty guards were there, and they all ran at us. I had gotten my men guns, and we attacked. In no more than 10 minutes we had decimated them, and I had my blood.
They ran away right as we got out, firing guns as needed.
They never looked back to me.
They never made it past the French border.
They never said thanks.
They never said goodbye.
I received a letter from one of my men very recently. About a month ago, after everything calmed down. He thanked me for saving him. He was home, with his family. He had kids, and a wife. He had a life. I didn’t.
He told me in a very short letter that he was grateful for me saving them. He gave me an address and a phone number. His. I was given an invitation to come by for Christmas dinner. I could have steak as rare as I want it to be.
I went by once. Only once. His funeral.
I could never leave an impression on his family.
I could never allow myself that happiness.
I could never allow myself that human experience.
I am a monster.