Daniel W. Holst

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(Historical Fiction) Crosses of Distinction

Dan Holst

Crosses of Distinction is a historical fiction based during the Franco-Prussian War, but framed within the story of a modern Air Force Airman who is deployed to Easter Europe. She has recently learned that her third Great-Grandfather served in the Franco-Prussian War and won the Iron Cross, but the family doesn’t know why. This story follows her family’s history during the war and their eventual immigration to America where all their histories will collide.

It is currently being published as a serial every other month.

I present the openings of the first several Chapters.


Chapter One “Blood”

Kylie Schaffer walked across the ramp and sure enough, it was blood. Damn, she thought. We just had a nosebleed yesterday. Stupid old jets are falling apart.

Chapter Two “Crossings”

Ailbe Stuhr bit off a piece of the hard, stale bread. Careful to chew only on his left side so as not to fail the precarious coagulation from the long bloody gash bandaged across his right cheek. If only he could sleep. His bed of straw rattled along with the constant squeal of the wheel flanges as the train crawled and clacked across Schleswig-Holstein from Flensburg to Keil.

Chapter Three “Ruminations”

            Tikva and Adamina began their breakfast in the hotel restaurant with a thankful prayer towards their aunt’s charity. Afterwards Tikva wanted to stroll outside seeking some fresh air. She wanted Adamina with her, but Adamina was still tired and desired to write in her journal. The clerk, having introduced himself as Fester, assured them that the area around and within the hotel was safe, so Tikva departed while Adamina stayed behind.

Chapter Four “Conscriptions”

Adamina heard her name and turned around. She saw the anger in her mom’s face exploding in the hand that slapped her left cheek. Adamina dropped to her knees with a loud cry and then a whimper.

Chapter Five “Waking the Dragons”

Senior Airman Kylie Schaffer ensured her earplugs were fully seated and that her earmuffs fit snugly just before the dragon awoke. Drogon woke and what began as a loud squeal slowly grew into a vast roar until the squeal fell off and only the roar remained.

Chapter Six “Forging Arms”

Regiment Commander Erich looked over his men all set to begin weapons training. He thought back to his battles in the war against Austria, the brothers he lost, and hegemony he helped attain for Bismarck. His left arm throbbed where it once took a bullet. He gently rubbed the scar. He knew the men he faced today will suffer greatly. Some will die. They knew it too. He saw it in their eyes. They looked so young. But now wasn’t that time. Now is the time to build weapons from men, to turn blood into a burning passion for war. He wondered, was it right to build borders on the blood of children. Erich put these thoughts aside, remembered his orders, and addressed the men.

Chapter Seven “Channeling Spies”

Harimann had departed The Lady Anglia at her impromptu port of call at Dover, England. He left with a small chest and a smaller purse and saw the French clipper docked a few piers south. He left his chest with a porter and walk the short distance to the French clipper. The sun rose high. The cliffs and sky once composed of spiritual metaphor had lost their glorious splendor. Now the cliff’s textured white sandstone and a calm but empty blue sky soaked up his courage. He glanced eastward, over France, back to his home. Then he rose his head above the cliffs and let his eyes wander west. He imagined a life roaring across the American plains. Then thoughts of war and duty overtook his wanderlust. Upon this crossroad stood Harimann. From this precipice, he feared he would never return.

Chapter Eight “Dreams to Come”

Artillery shells rocketed upon fiery contrails ripped open the night sky. The men of the battlefield screamed at each other, running away like bees escaping a smoked-out hive. Each hoped for just one more step. Few found it. Exploding pockets of earthen soil lifted those soldiers far into the air where crumbs of dirt and droplets of blood sprinkled the ground a half second before their bodies. German soldiers filled every crater. Their uniform blues and reds darkened into dirt. Swords and guns spiked the ground.

Chapter Nine “The Final Piece”

Adamina climbed the small hill in Hamburg. She stepped on the bits of scattered stones that salted the upward slope on her way to the top. Once there she discovered several crumbling yet intact piles arising from the dirt. They reminded her of a deteriorating parapet from some castle buried beneath time and futility. But today she would serve as the archer looking through its balistraria for targets who have come to lay waste to Hamburg.

Chapter Ten “No Worth in War”

Adim sat at the tail of the wagon with his gun laid across his lap looking back from where he came. While he didn’t expect any problems on the slow trek back to camp, he should be ready. He looked at the receding battlefield. Night still ruled the west, but behind him, day was dawning, and it had been a ceaseless night of combat. The morning fog that guarded their arrival yesterday had returned, mixed now with smoke. As the thick fog tried to snuff out the smoke, it still rose from charred and smoldering ruins. But as the sun broke into the east, the wagon emerged from the Lauter River and returned to camp.

Chapter Eleven “The Request”

A hand emerged from beneath the blanket. Dark stains coalesced of dirt, blood, and gunpowder bled out from the fingers across the hands. Each finger strained to uncurl, to straightened and reach for help, but whether through fever, injury, or exhaustion, they remained curled, not unlike at the onset of rigor mortis.