Jeremy Romodo: A Short Story Of My Death

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Hello, I am Jeremy Romondo and here is the story of my death. The date is January 7th, 1945. I am fighting the genocidal maniacs also known as the Nazis. We were fighting outside of the small town of Rudesheim when we saw a monstrous Sherman Tank on our right flank just over a small hedge of bushes. My battalion leaped under the cover of the foliage to stay out of the vision of the destructive vehicle. We stayed until we knew for sure the tank was clear of our location. My soldiers and I camped in the town for the night. When dawn came, we marched on in hopes we would find more American soldiers. It was about nine a.m. when we saw the first signs of the murderers. In the trees behind a quaint house that looked like it was built with toothpicks, thirty to fifty Nazi soldiers were sitting. Surprisingly, a group of our allies from Britain were hidden on the opposite side of the building. The …show more content…
The Nazi soldiers were lounging around as if there was no war going on. They were so calm it made me a little bit suspicious of what the murderers were actually plotting. My squad of men moved slowly parallel to the frail house. We stayed out of the soldiers’ line of sight and then opened fire on the group of men. There was no blood dripping from their lifeless bodies. The soldiers were decoys! It was a trap! Three Sherman tanks appeared from the woods with fifty men following each tank. We were in a very deep hole that was extremely hard to climb out of. The German men dispersed all around the house surrounding us so we could not flee the wretched area. They had us trapped and there was no way out. The German soldiers crammed us into the fragile house and with all of the soldiers inside, it collapsed. In my last moments, I had thoughts of my family back in the United States and how they would react to the news of my death. I felt tears rolling down my face as I left the war

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