Raindancers
by
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Things got hazy. Then, all of a sudden, my hair stood on end, I got dizzy, and I could hear Philip: "Mein Gott....Mein Gott..."
And then we were out, and there was the T34, roaring ahead, apparently oblivious. Thank God we weren't, as I feared, headed up my driveway, but our surroundings were almost as familiar. I could see acres of cars, and the buildings behind said "SEARS," and "Barnes And Noble." Welcome to the shopping mall.
Richard screamed up: "Where are we?"
"Home. MY home. Follow the Russian!"
Then he started shooting. Not at us, he sprayed a row of parked cars with machinegun fire, and put a round into the mall's main entrance. "Es war zum kotzen," Peiper would say, "It was getting really nasty.."
All I said was "Philip, hit him!"
Our pitiful 2-incher blasted out, whacking the back of his turret with a cloud of HE. The Russian fired again at the mall's buildings, and accelerated. Round and round the parking lots we roared, the Russian spreading mayhem; Miss Death snapping at his heels like a border collie trying to turn a bull.
We must have been a sight... two refugees from World War II tearing around, blasting away, a gigantic practical joke. We knew it too. "Was fur ein Spass?" I heard Philip yell, between stuffing shells into his gun: "What kind of joke is this?"
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About the Book
We all have our secrets. There are things we don't talk about, or even think about -- experiences we don’t revisit - great treasure chests we don't open - and so very often, we should. What would you find if you looked inside? What joys, what truths, would you rediscover? Why keep secrets from yourself? Raindancers is a collection, a "verbal scrapbook:" of memories and experiences, augmented by outright flights of fancy. Some stories are more-or-less true; others are explorations of old legends, studies of motive, or even "what if?" explorations of unfinished life-experiences. Come meet an old Irish lady who loved poetry, ride a hot car with the neighbor boy, walk through rural Greece, sail in pirate-infested waters, and join the German Army. Meet a lady who was beautiful once, a cop who did his duty, and a dancer afraid to be loved. Share my love for the ways of people and the infinite mercy of God.
About the Author
Peter J. Nebergall is a writer, photographer, and journalist from Columbia. Missouri. Although much of his work has been factual (Hard Core, Violent Societies, Guerrilla Anthropology, Faces of Punk), his new Raindancers draws heavily on personal experience. "Raindancers is a verbal scrapbook," he says, a collection of verbal snapshots, assembled memories and not-quite memories. Peter believes people are too used to genre, and as soon as they think they know where a story is going, they skim. "Not with my stories." he says. He uses sudden insight, surprise, viewpoint shift, and colorful description, to get you to set through his narrators’ eyes. "I want you to hear the storytellers voice, and see life through his eyes".