[ WP ] An aging veteran gets dragged to a paintball facility by his grandkids . Another elderly man is there with his grandkids . The two quickly realize they ’ ve faced off on the battlefield before .

I knew his face -- those searching blue eyes, the high cheekbones, the sharp nose. Time wins all wars, but had done nothing to dull the edge of his razor-sharp features. How many years had it been? I could n't figure a number. But I remember that day on the south edge of the Riedwihr Woods. 
 
 It was so cold, four below at least. I remember thinkin' I never wanted to be that cold again. And, thank God, I never have. 
 
 We could n't dig foxholes because the goddamned ground was frozen. The lieutenant had ordered us to withdraw back into the woods. He thought it was hopeless. Hell, I do n't know, maybe it was. It felt hopeless enough most of the time. 
 
 That was the day the lieutenant climbed into a burning M10 and laid into the Germans with the heavy machine gun. He called in artillery strikes on his own position and got himself a Medal of Honor. That's a different story, though. Probably a better one than this. 
 
 Something else happened that day, something I'll never forget, I can tell you that. In the confusion of the retreat, my squad was falling back and exchanging small-arms fire with the Germans who were tryin' to get a foothold. 
 
 At one point, we had to make a break for it, and I got separated from the rest of the unit. I just remember running so damned fast, until the air was frozen glass in my lungs. The snow was so deep I might as well have been running through a field of tripwires. 
 
 I do n't know how I managed it, but I saw him just a second before he saw me. Hell, I damn near ran right into him. I still remember the look on his face, those eyes, the surprise as I raised my weapon. 
 
 Some people will tell you time speeds up at times like this. For me, right there, it slowed way down. I do n't know, something about the reality of it. Knowin' I was about to take a man's life, and there was nothin' he could do about it. Air that was as thin as cold razors before suddenly was as thick as afterbirth. I pulled the trigger. It felt like pulling a 200-pound weight. 
 
 Misfire. 
 
 The goddamn gun did n't go off. I was a dead man, no two ways about it. I was gon na kill this man a second ago, and now he was gon na return the favor. 
 
 Except he did n't. 
 
 It's the god-damnedest thing. He just did n't. He kind of grinned and took off. Every day, I've wondered why he did n't do it. Not a day goes by I do n't think of how it could have been bleeding out right there in the snow. 
 
 Lookin' at him now, I could go over an' ask him if I wanted to. There's nothin' to stop me. But I do n't have to. Truth is, now I know. 
 
 Watchin' these kids play, shootin' at each other with paintball guns, not knowin' what it would be like if that paint came with that overwhelming stink of copper -- yeah, the truth is we both know. 
 
 Gettin' up to leave, he comes over and, sure enough, there's a German accent. 
 
 “ If you do n't mind me saying so, you have a beautiful family, sir. ” 
 
 I look at him. He looks at me. There's a weight, heavy as time. So heavy it chokes you. 
 
 “ You too, sir. You too. ”
