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Every family has a story. My mother told me of my great-grandfather, Julius (or Jules?) Brinkmann, who was killed on this date in 1918 in World War I on the Western Front.
Word of the armistice, which took effect the 11th hour, of the 11th day, of the 11th month of 1918, did not reach all the lines in real time. He was killed sometime later that day, AFTER the armistice.
He would have been one of the very last casualties of the Great War. You know, the war that was supposed to end all wars.
Oh, and he was a German. Funny, that really doesn't seem to matter, does it?
What is your family story? Please comment.
This is a generic photo, not of Julius--because my Mom's family lost ALL their possessions, including family photos, when they were bombed out in Frankfurt in WW II--but it could have been.
My mother's stepfather, German, inadvertently found himself in a trench with a young French soldier. They both pulled their weapons. The unfortunate French soldier did not live to tell the tale and my step grandfather never got over it. He was about the same age.
ReplyDeleteThis same step grandfather opened up a sandwich they were given as a meal. Maggots leaped around amongst whatever made up the insides of the sandwich. He glanced at those maggots, snapped the sandwich shut and ate it.