I pop out of the mist and find myself face to face with a bunch of ruins. No, not just ruins, rubble. I’m sure it’s an odd sight, a random guy dressed in a yellow jumpsuit, with a giant backpack, staring out at gray rubble and ruins. Or it would have been an odd sight, if there were any people around. 

As far as I could see, there wasn’t a single soul around. I suppose that was the point, but we all expected a few people from the outskirts of the town picking through the rubble, but it’s all empty. I take a few steps down the street, trying to jog my memory. I know I learned about why this place was bombed, but for some reason, it’s not coming to mind. 

Lost in thought, I trip on a giant chunk of something- it looks like…  

I gag when I realize I’m looking at charred, mangled human remains.  

Taking a few steps back, I turn around, and crouch to the ground, trying to get my head straight. I’ve read countless books about how the Allies bombed German cities, and how they always had a strategy, but seeing it, seeing it in person is a completely different thing.  

My shock helps jog my memory. My head starts spinning again as I put this devastation in context. They bombed a town center because the factories had once been used for production. They also wanted to demoralize the population.  

The Allies, the “good guys,” bombed a city full of civilians, because the town outskirts could be useful to the Nazi’s, and because they wanted to demoralize the population. They bombed the town center too, not the factories on the outskirts. I know of the horrible, horrible things this country did, but this destruction doesn’t feel like the actions of good guys either. I’ve been distanced from this by hundreds of years, but burning and bombing children? That’s not the heroes. 

That thought triggers another one. The Allies overtook this city about two weeks after they bombed it. They wanted an easy fight. They valued the life of their soldiers over that of normal civilians, children. My association of hero and villain blurs. Are there any heroes in war? 

I stay crouching for a few more minutes, just trying to wrap my head around what I’ve seen and if there’s anything else the team wanted me to do. I run through my mental checklist and realize how short it is. I’ve already completed everything I need. That’s all I was sent here for? I’ve verified that the time machine does in fact work, but I still feel like there’s so much to do here. 

 I spent a good few weeks researching the war tactics used in World War II and the history of this town, but now it feels like I haven’t even scratched the surface. I should know the name of every single person that died here. They need to be remembered. 

I pick myself up and start walking. I’ve lost all sense of direction, so I have no clue where I’m headed, but I can’t just leave like this. The corpses stare me in the eye, pleading with me to remember them with their mangled flesh.  

I find myself in front of St. Michael’s Chruch. If I remember right, this place was the victim of another minor bombing earlier on, as well as the one that caused this apocalypse of a town, and it shows. There’s almost nothing left of this historic church. Over a thousand years of history, gone.  

Winding my way through the rubble, I find remnants of a church, once so loved by its people for over a thousand years. The soul of this church lies in the rubble, destroyed by the hatred of the people history calls heroes.