'Discovery Creative Essay\r'

'He sat lazily on the cold ceramic tiles of his bedroom, resting his back against the inexorable wooden framework of his single bed. With legs bulge outstretched, chest piano dipping up and strike tidy sum and his forehead submissively macrocosm supported by his fingertips, Jonas Schmidt reminisced upon the caring and affectionate stake withdraw of his father. He reflected upon their journey; a collage of memories flashed through with(predicate) his mind- from the struggle in fleeing Germany and the rise of Nazi power, to the hardships in attaining full Australian citizenship.\r\nSeeking refuge in Australia had eventu eithery brought them peace- the beauty of the natural landscape, morphed with the laid-back and open-hearted attitudes of their local community had endowed them with a radical life. Together they were ready for a fresh start- until contendfare broke out in 1939. The bloody war. The god-forsaken war. entirely(a) that remained sat idly in his lap, symbolisi ng the remnants of his father. Slowly, Jonas undetermined the box; he penetrated into what seemed to be the past, and lifted out the first piece of history †his father’s mi lightenary uniform.\r\nHarold Schmidt wandered into the mess tent of the army base, burning to fit in with the energetic cluster of junior Australian men. As he pealed back the penetrations of the tent, a cacophony of excited noises filled the atmosphere. Thunderous jest re newsated through the room, as men told stories of their past conquests. The pokey of mugs echoed, as they acknowledged each other and proceeded to down copious amounts of alcohol. The majority of the men, dressed in the aforesaid(prenominal) military uniform as his own, were of the traditional background- unspecific shoulders, bushy hair and cheesy grins. Ecstatic faces lit up the tent, reminding Harold of the same emotion displayed by his son when they were together. Nervously, he walked up to a group of them, longing to experience the sense of mateship, understanding and acceptance that ostensibly ascendd from their discussions. Yet at the same time, he was dire to discover the contrary.\r\nâ€Å"Hey mate, pull up a soften and join us”, slurred one of the men at the table. â€Å"What’s ya name mate?” â€Å"Er…Harold. Harold Smith”, mumbled Harold nervously, not wishing to reveal his German background. The members of the circle eyed him suspiciously; noticing his distinct corporal differences and outlandish accent. â€Å"So where ya from?”\r\nâ€Å"Brisbane”, he lied.\r\nThe ring of uniforms erupted into laughter. â€Å"Ah mate, take on’t worry, there’s no requisite to lie about anything here…right? We’re all friends.” He indicated around the circle: â€Å" sanitary that’s Buffer, Swarley, mill, Richie and Dougie- we’re all mates from in advance. Oh, and they battle cry me Shelley, after the m issus.” Another round of laughter shake the table.\r\nâ€Å"Anyway, welcome to the gang”, he said. â€Å"We’ll number after you”. Shelley extended his hand forward. â€Å"This is going to be very well”, thought Harold, as he shook the inviolable and assuring hand of the Australian. Suddenly, the alarm signalled to direct the soldiers to throw to move out. â€Å"Alright lads!”, shout Shelley, as they all stood up to leave. â€Å"Let’s kill the flamin’ Jerry and send ‘em back to where they came from!” Harold instantly gulped at the anticipation of killing his own kind. Sweat saturated his uniform, as he reluctantly marched out of the tent.\r\nJonas retreated from his dream-like state, brooding the reality of the hallucination. Solemnly, he laid the uniform down on the bed with respect. Suddenly, a flash of metal penetrated his look, as a crack of light from merchantman the curtains illuminated the jagged edg es of his father’s war medals. Jonas clutched the remnants of his father firmly in his hand; formerly again returning to the illusory world…\r\nAs the lights dimmed, Harold stood apart from his platoon. Rising to the rank of First-Lieutenant, he had nearly complete command over a rate of his fellow soldiers, including his new-found friends. Despite regretting each time he shot an enemy German, Harold had caught the attention of his superiors. However, it was a solely different story amongst his own people. Even at this military celebration, Harold could feel the cynical gaze of the soldiers infiltrating into his internal being. Buffer, Bomber and Dougie deliberately avoided eye-contact with him. Swarley and Richie refused to sit next to him at the table. Even Shelley eyed him apprehensively; tension develop exponentially between the two former friends. Thus, Harold stood distantly from the group. â€Å"Maybe it’s because I’m an military officer now ”, he thought. â€Å"Or maybe it’s because they are jealous at my medals. They may give way even discovered that I am German-born.” Nevertheless, Harold sobbed deeply. He felt lonely. Cursed. Like an outsider.\r\nOnce again, Jonas withdrew from the vision; his eyes moist, as he expressed sympathy for his father. Delicately, he positioned the medals on top of the chest pocket of the uniform, before reaching into the box once more. His hand napped the cold crisp metal of the 6-round revolver †the standard-issue side-arm for all officers. His mind drifted away yet again…\r\nâ€Å"So you’re telling me you’re one of them!”, yelled Shelley, as he stood just centimetres from Harold’s face. Trust. Companionship. Expectations. each broken from the discovery of one word. â€Å"Get off me! That’s an order!” cried Harold, as he clumsily tried to free himself of the fierce headlock that Buffer and Bomber had on him. †Å"You’ll be court marshalled for subordination!!” â€Å"Does it look like I give a goddamned? We’re all bloody fighting aboard a Jerry! One of THEM! The same animals that were shootin’ at us ‘bout a minute ago!” â€Å"I’m not one of them…”\r\nâ€Å"Shut up! You’re not one of us! You break’t belong here!” With that, Shelley lunged forward and grabbed Harold’s revolver from the holster; muted sounds amalgamated with blurred images as a flurry of action erupted.\r\nJonas jerked ferociously from his disclosure; perspiration seeped tentatively down his neck and onto his shirt. He was almost hyperventilating now, as he endeavoured to eradicate the graphic imagery from his mind. Suddenly, the doorbell chimed. Shocked by the bold disturbance, he swivelled around to face the doorway. Through the unambiguous glass, Jonas made out the silhouette of a manlike figure- standing upright, proud and tall. As his mother unbarred the door, he witnessed a look of disbelief emanate from her face. â€Å"Could it be…”Jonas muttered to himself, as his heart continued to race. The door opened, bringing with it…\r\n… a new hope.\r\n'