I became a son-in-law in the United States

Chapter 38 My Comrade Loves Art!

"this......."

Holding the letter, Luther couldn't help but tremble.

Upon seeing the familiar handwriting, countless memories surfaced in the original owner's mind: the whistling of artillery shells, the shouts on the battlefield, the tearing sound of bullets, and the prayers of comrades before their deaths.

As a veteran who participated in World War I and some of the most intense battles, Luther never forgot those tragic scenes.

Those naive young people, polite college students, and kind-hearted people who always think of others—they have finally grown up and struggled to survive to this day, and they should have had a good life.

However, it's just a matter of one bullet.

At first you were saddened, grieving over the bodies of your fallen comrades, but as more and more people died, you gradually became numb.

However, among countless past scenes, a special face gradually emerged and became clearer.

This face belongs to none other than the person who wrote this letter—Gandalf.

To be honest, Luther and this Mr. Gandalf had a connection.

Because Luther was of noble birth, he was drafted into the army at the very beginning of World War I and joined the Bavarian 16th Infantry Regiment, becoming a lieutenant.

There's not much to say about that. In Europe, nobles have a tradition of serving in the military, even if there's no war.

Luther's military rank was neither high nor low, which was typical for someone of his status.

However, in the years that followed, as the soldiers died one after another, fewer and fewer remained.

But among these people, there was a messenger who left a deep impression on him. He wasn't handsome, but he had a refined demeanor. He loved reading political books and also enjoyed painting. He even said that his biggest dream was to become a painter.

Unfortunately, he was unlucky; he applied to art academies twice, but was rejected each time.

He felt he was very talented and his drawings were quite good, so he was rejected twice. He was sure someone was sabotaging him.

But none of that matters anymore, because he really didn't pass the exam.

Although he later applied to architecture school, he was quickly rejected because he did not have the required qualifications.

By this time, his parents had passed away, and his only possessions had been exhausted, leaving Mr. Gandalf a complete vagrant on the streets.

In order to survive, he had to paint on the street, making a living by painting cheap watercolors and postcards.

Even so, his meager income was not enough to support his survival, and he had to work odd jobs everywhere in order to fill his stomach.

Originally, he had no intention of joining the army and was not interested in military life. He even used "weak health" as an excuse to avoid military service.

But with the outbreak of World War I, he keenly realized that perhaps his opportunity had come, so he came to Bavaria to work as a messenger.

As everyone knows, after arriving at the Bavarian Infantry Regiment, Luther became one of the few people he could still call friends.

The two often talked about topics such as art and architecture, and were quite familiar with each other.

Of course, these are all things that happened to the original owner of the body; Luther simply retrieved all of these memories at this point.

After some thought and comparison, Luther was finally certain that this refined messenger was probably none other than Gandalf, the great villain who would strike fear into the hearts of later generations.

"This... I never imagined the world was so small, that we could actually meet here?"

In short, this is the advantage of being a time traveler.

With proper planning, you can land precisely in any time and space and bump into anyone.

Luther smiled faintly, then opened the letter and began to read it.

Luther, my dear friend:

The last time I heard news of you was last month. There were rumors that you went to Boston to try your luck and even married the Kennedy daughter.

As the heir to the Ludwig family, you should, in principle, be a source of pride for Germany...

He stopped there, at least saving face for his former boss.

Luther himself didn't care, since he was Chinese at heart, and he was just reading the letter with a casual, detached attitude.

Soon the pages turned, and more information about the other party came to light.

At this moment, I sit at the table, recalling the years we fought together. It was late autumn of 1916, in the muddy trenches of the Fromele front, in the thick fog that even the moonlight couldn't penetrate.

At that moment, I felt despair, and I even saw my own grave. I thought I was going to die, that I was going to die in the next moment.

I finally came into this world, but I never touched a woman, never smelled the fragrance of flowers, and died before becoming a hero. I am not reconciled.

Just when I was in despair, you led me forward and rescued me from the mud and danger.

So Luther, my friend!

I sincerely hope you are well and that you can find happiness in life, although we both admit that such a thing simply doesn't exist.

Upon reading this passage, Luther couldn't help but twitch his lips. This writing is quite good!

Is this the same messenger I know?

Unexpectedly, after a few years, this guy's writing skills have improved a lot. Even on today's Qidian.com, he could at least be on the bestseller list. He's not being modest at all.

Driven by curiosity, he paused for a moment, then continued reading.

Over the years, I have had very few people who can truly be called friends, and you are one of them.

In 1918, after that damned war ended, I heard that you had returned to your hometown, while I remained in the army, but my days were not good at all.

The job the army introduced me to was less of a "job" and more of my destiny for the rest of my life, which I was very unwilling to accept.

Today, I am still in Munich, and I have achieved some small success. I even earned my first royalties.

But I am not satisfied. I cannot forget my comrades who died in battle, nor can I forget the suffering we endured. So I still have a lot to do.

If you'd like, you can come to Munich, and let's fight together for Germany!

With our swords and plows, with our blood and souls, we will save this suffering nation.

Of course, I know this is incredible and unrealistic. Right now, you're in Boston on the other side of the ocean, and you're doing very well, my friend.

So Luther, my dearest friend, if you need any help, please tell me.

Let me help you, just as you once helped me.

After reading the letter, Luther was stunned, feeling an indescribable sense of astonishment.

It seems that by some twist of fate, I have somehow gotten in touch with this person.

Just thinking about it is so exciting!

However, judging from the current situation, although Gandalf is doing quite well, it will still be a few years before he reaches the pinnacle.

At present, he can only be considered a minor leader of a party, with the support of a portion of the people, but he is far from being able to gain mainstream influence.

Nevertheless, Luther was deeply moved to have met such a "person".

Without hesitation, he immediately wrote back. In the letter, he was quite restrained. First, he thanked his comrade for his concern, and then told him that he was fine and did not need help for the time being. He suggested that if the other party was really interested, they could help take care of the old housekeeper and Luther's family business.

After writing the letter, Luther took a quick shower, changed into his pajamas, and went to bed.

But he didn't sleep well that night; he dreamed of 1929, 1933, 1944...

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