THE JOKE THAT MADE THE WORLD CRY

In the bleak solitude of World War, in a hospital ward, I lay, my body battered and broken by the merciless hand of war. Each breath felt like a struggle against an unseen foe, my spirit teetering on the brink of despair. In the oppressive silence, whispers danced like specters in the shadows, their words a tantalizing refrain in the cacophony of suffering.

"What is the point of all my efforts?" I started to ask myself regularly. After almost dying from a British gas attack, which left me temporarily blind, I began to realize that this war was not my place to be. I would never be more than a corporal, serving as a petty messenger for German troops in France and Belgium. That was not my goal when I joined the war.

Now, blindness suffocated me, adding one more failure to my pride, like one more nail in my coffin. I could hear the laughs of officers passing by my bed, making insults and hilarious comments at my expense. Oh, how I wished to have the power to show them that I was more than this broken excuse for a human.

Somewhere around the sixth night of my treatment, I remember a member of the medical staff mentioning that five days had passed since I was brought in from the battlefield with a large group of other wounded, and barely a dozen of us had survived. I couldn’t ask anything because they had given me something that made me dizzy and disoriented. When their voices disappeared into the distance, I heard another voice. It sounded as if it were coming from high above me.

"You will survive," one voice murmured, its tone colored with a strange solemnity. "For I have chosen you to shape the world."

“God?” The word echoed in my mind like a distant bell tolling the promise of salvation. “Could it be true?” My mind started to play with that thought. “I never believed in God, but whose voice could it be? Is it possible that I, a lowly soldier amidst the chaos of war, can truly be destined for greatness?”

Days stretched into weeks, and the whispers persisted, each word a dagger of hope piercing the veil of my despair. "You are destined for greatness," another voice declared, its cadence filled with an otherworldly certainty. "The world will tremble at your feet."

With the passing day, I found myself drawn deeper into the web of deception, my doubts drowned out by the resounding chorus of affirmation. "I will not disappoint," I finally vowed, surprised to hear my voice tinged with newfound determination.

But as the war raged on and the world around me descended further into madness, doubt crept insidiously into the corners of my mind. "Do not listen to the naysayers," the voices urged their whispers like tendrils of smoke curling around my thoughts. "You are the chosen one."

Yet, amidst the whispers of destiny, a seed of doubt took root in my heart. “Was it truly God speaking to me, guiding me to greatness? Or were these voices merely the desperate pleas of men clinging to hope in a world gone mad?”

As the war dragged on, the voices that once whispered promises of greatness grew louder, their proclamations more fervent. But amidst the chaos of battle, a seed of doubt took root in my heart, blossoming into a gnawing suspicion that the voices were not the divine guidance I desperately sought. “What If I fail? Wasn’t my time in the army showing me how bad I am? If I could not become greater in the war, how can I become greater in the eyes of God?”

“You are the Chosen one.” The voice returned the next night and made all my doubts disappear.

One evening, as I lay in my hospital bed, the air thick with the stench of death and despair, my comrades gathered around me, their faces a twisted tableau of guilt and apprehension.

"Adolf," one of them began hesitantly, "we need to tell you something."

Their voices quivered with uncertainty as they confessed their deception, revealing that they had orchestrated the voices I had believed to be the voice of God. They just wanted to have some fun. My blindness was gone, and I could look them in the eyes, but they could not look at me. So, I knew that they were lying. I would easily recognize their voices.

Shock rippled through me, disbelief mingling with betrayal as their words echoed in the cavernous depths of my mind. How could they have the nerve to come between me and God? It was my connection with Him that they were trying to present as a joke. But the truth was – they were a joke.

"Sorry, Adolf." One of those bastards put his hand on my shoulder. "We were just making fun of you. It was a joke, man."

"No," I whispered, shaking my head in denial. "It can't be true. God spoke to me. He chose me." There was not any doubt in my mind. They were all jealous that God chose me, not them. That was true. It has to be the truth.

Released from the hospital, I returned home to a different man from who I once was. A flicker of something new ignited within me—a burning desire to shape the world according to my own vision. God's vision imparted to me. I was barely His tool.

I took to the streets, my voice ringing like a clarion call in the tumult of a world in upheaval. At first, no one wanted to listen to me. But with each impassioned speech, I drew crowds, my words weaving a tapestry of hope and despair, ambition, and madness. The voice of God was talking through me. With every new man who joined to listen to me, my strength became higher, and my connection with God even greater. No one could break the bond I had with Him. Imagine if I believed those who tried to convince me that it was all a joke, how wrong that would be for me. For my God.

In the echo of my words, I found solace, a semblance of purpose amidst the chaos of a world gone mad. And as I gazed upon the faces of those who hung upon my every word, I knew that I had found my calling—a new path forged from the ashes.

I was wounded twice, and twice He saved me. Not to be some joke, to be laughed at by others. No, I was the Chosen One. The One who was destined to rebuild the world as God wanted it to be.

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The story reflects Adolf's transformation from a disillusioned soldier to a charismatic leader who believed he was carrying out a divine mission. His conviction in his destiny and his ability to sway crowds with his speeches align with historical accounts of his rise to power, eventually turning the world into chaos.