Reunion In The Ring.pdf

Reunion In The Ring
The hatreds and loves of the days
of war continue to play even in the
condition of peace. The story of
the patience and bravery of a
helpless boxer who came under
the occupation of the Germans, he
did not forget any excess that
happened to him.

Tall and strong, the Norwegian boxer Carland
dominated his rival from the start. After all, he landed
such a decisive right punch on Mike's face that every
spectator in the stadium gasped uncontrollably. At the
same time, without giving Mike a chance to recover, he
hit his left punch in the stomach with such force that his
wrist came back only after sinking almost to the elbow.
This attack proved to be the last.

The reason for Mike's biggest fame was that he had not
been knocked out for a long time in his professional life.
But at this point, he slowly piled on the ring floor like an
old sinking ship and the referee started the count.
Carland stood on the ropes in the neutral corner with his
arms outstretched. He knew that Mike would not be able
to get up now. A professional boxer knows which punch
has knocked out his opponent.
There was a tremendous thunderstorm over the crowd
and it was hard to hear the sound falling on the ear due
to the noise. Carland's eyes were searching for the face
of a special person in the sea of onlookers. But in low
light and in such a large crowd, it was not possible to
see and recognize anyone from a distance. However,
his heart's desire was that that person should be present
in the crowd of spectacles and see the result, Mike.
Even though Mike was knocked out by Carland much
quicker and less painfully, his face looked like a model.
But Carland's wish was that when he did meet that
person... that particular opponent, he would knock him
out very, very, very slowly, in a very painful way.

Finally, the referee's count is over. The match was
decided. Carland himself helped Mike up so that his
men could carry him out of the ring. Carland's manager
was almost squealing with joy next to him.
“You proved all the predictions of boxing critics wrong,
Carland!
Everyone was saying this and even writing in the
newspapers that even if you succeed in defeating Mike,
you will have a very difficult time in this attempt. But
you... .!”
Carland was not listening to his manager's words and
the audience's comments. He didn't want to fall into any
pride. While going towards the dressing room, he was
thinking that if he had lost to Mike, then all these things
would have been said for Mike. He always wanted to
remember this harsh reality and his infamy in the boxing
arena.
A German colonel had once upon a time given him the
realization of his absurdity in the most painful way. His
name was Van Hart. And that was the time of the
second world war. German troops had occupied Norway.

Van Hart looked less like a man and more like a frog.
But he was, however, the colonel of a victorious army.
One day he said while cracking the whip on Carland's
chest.
"Let us Germans relax a little, we will straighten you out
so that you Norwegians will be proud to lick our feet.
And get a piece of bread by begging from us.
You will forget all this ego, and self-respect that you
keep chiming on. You, people, don't know why you are
so proud of yourselves. What are you so proud of? On
the fact that you have become a slave. Or on the fact
that we conquered your country by sacrificing less than
one regiment of the army.
Are you not ashamed to think that while we were
engaged in preparations for the conquest of your
country, at that time you were rejoicing in boxing,
skating, and other similar useless games by winning the
priceless medals of copper and brass. . And were you
happy with your jumping, running?”
The colonel again struck Carland's chest with the
horse's whip. Carland was trying his best not to show
pain on his face.

His fists were tightly clenched and every part of his body
was anxious to jump up and grab the bastard and tear
him to pieces. But he could hardly contain himself. Once
an old and experienced friend of his had explained to
him.
There is no point in getting shot and killed by showing
unnecessary enthusiasm. Now that we have become the
slaves of the Germans because of our weakness and
carelessness, we must silently tolerate their violence,
and their excesses and wait for the right time when we
can turn around and strike decisively.
Van Hart continued in a hoarse, insulting voice... well...
so you call yourself a boxer? But did you know that
German boxers are the best boxers in the world? Have
you ever heard of Fritz Abel?"
Carland nodded silently. He had not only heard the
name of Fritz Abel, he knew it well and had known him
since he was only a withered, hungry child. That
German kid lived in Norway and had no one in the
world. At the end of the First World War, a Norwegian

family kept that child with them. They lived in the same
village as Carland.
Carland and Fritz played together. Both had a deep
friendship. Both were interested in boxing. They found a
book on the subject of boxing, in which the secrets and
techniques of boxing were explained with the help of
colorful illustrations.
That American book became the joint property of both
friends and both considered it dearer than their lives.
Since Carland was learning English in school, he read
the contents of the book to Fritz.
When Fritz grew up a little, he went to Germany. There
was a correspondence between them. Gradually,
Carland started competing with youngsters and novices.
He used to send pictures of these matches to Fritz.
He rarely lost in these matches. Once he won a
competition, a newspaper wrote about him. The future is
bright for this young boxer. It is possible that in the future
he will become the greatest boxer in Norway.
Carland was overjoyed to read this about himself.

He had specially sent the newspaper clipping to Fritz. In
response, Fritz also used to give him similar information
about himself. Then a few years later, Fritz sent her a
large color photograph of himself standing with a wide,
shiny belt. He was declared the lightweight champion of
two cities in Germany.
And today the German colonel was asking him, have
you ever heard the name of Fritz Abel?
When he came out of the blur of memories, he heard the
colonel once again say in a poisonous tone,
“well... so you consider yourself a boxer? It must have
been a long time since you fought with someone.
Even your army did not compete with us, in which
category is the poor boxers? You must have regretted
that for so long you did not get a chance to show your
talent. So I have arranged a bout with a boxer for your
pacification and the amusement of my officers. With
whom do you know? with Fritz Abel.”
Carland said nothing. Stood silent. said the German
colonel, slowly cracking the whip on his boots.

"Isn't it a matter of pride for you that you are getting a
chance to enter the ring in front of a boxer like Fritz?"
Carland spoke in a flat tone, ignoring his question.
“I haven't been in the ring for a long time. And I couldn't
even continue my practice with the food that is being
served to me and my compatriots these days.”
"When someone clearly sees his defeat, he starts
making excuses even before he enters the field," said
the colonel contemptuously.
"If I could just get some milk, maybe I could put on a
better performance to entertain your officers," Carland
said in the same flat tone.
Eventually, Colonel Van Hart ordered the in charge of
his mess to give Carland three liters of milk a day until
the start of the match. The competition was to be held
only after a week.
The quota of milk that Carland had approved for
himself, he himself did not use. Secretly, that milk kept

going to those mothers whose milk-drinking children
were craving milk.
The competition was held in the hall which, in the good
old days, was used by the county council for its
functions. Carland knew very well that the only purpose
of holding this competition was to make the people of
Norway more aware of their inferiority complex and to
soothe the sick mentality of the Germans.
The referee and Carland's assistants were all German.
Even calling him a referee or a helper felt insulting. All of
them were officers in the German army.
One of them has already told Carland. "It would be
better in your favor to surrender the defeat as soon as
possible. There is no use in exaggerating the matter."
Carland couldn't help but say, "That will be decided in
the ring. Fritz may not be as big of a champion as you
guys have made him out to be."
When Carland faced Fritz in the ring, Carland did not
perceive much of a change in his personality. But one
change was the most prominent and notable, Fritz had
now become completely German. There was scorn,
disdain, and hatred for Carland in his eyes.

Carland had long been living near starvation. He had to
work fifteen hours a day and in the last few days, he had
to bear the brunt of the painful death of so many of his
near and dear ones, friends, and relatives. The effect of
all these things was present in the body and soul.
At first, it seemed that Fritz was getting the better of
him. The German soldiers were shouting with joy. The
referee was not trying to stop Fritz from any of his fouls.
Fritz's kick to Carland's kidneys during the fight didn't
bother him as much as many other things.
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In the beginning, the feeling of dominance made Fritz
somewhat nonchalant. Carland was familiar with Fritz's
habits and style when it came to boxing from an early
age.
He realized that these habits and styles had not
changed much. So he started taking advantage of his
awareness. Soon he starts dominating Fritz.

Fritz realized his strength and skill as he launched a
flurry of attacks. Despite all the hardships and hardships
he had to endure, he was heavy on Fritz.
Fritz staggered several times. Finally, in the sixth round,
Carland landed a powerful left as well as a devastating
right punch. Fritz fell to his knees. It was clear that this
punch would prove to be decisive, but at that very
moment, the scene changed.
The referees, Fritz's assistants, and even Carland's
own assistants turned on him. Not only that, some of the
German soldiers in the audience jumped into the ring
and it rained down on Carland with punches, slaps, and
abuse. The soldier who was getting a chance was also
stumbling to him with his heavy shoes.
Carland was trying to squat somewhat and hide his face
and head in both hands, but still, it was not possible.
They wanted to kill him. The crowd was screaming
there.
"Shoot him... shoot this Norwegian boar... the piglet
fouls…

One person was even hitting him with a stick. Finally, the
pain was beyond his endurance. Countless pains
entered his body from pore to pore and in the end, there
was darkness in front of his eyes. He fell to the floor of
the ring.
Even while unconscious, he was thinking of his friends.
The friends who were running the resistance movement.
The Germans did not yet know that Carland was also
associated with the resistance movement. So he was
still in Norway, otherwise, he would have joined the
Allied forces and gone to England in the early days of
the war.
His libertarian friend Arnie had planned to attack the port
while Carland and Fritz fought, trying to send weapons
and food to their comrades by boat. The companions
had been waiting for this reinforcement for several days
at another place.
Arnie chose this time to act because he knew that many
officers and soldiers would leave their posts and gather
in the hall to watch the fight, and the Libertarian task
would be made easier.

When Carland regained consciousness, he was lying in
a cramped, dark room. But from the shouts and antics of
the German soldiers outside, he realized that the
mission of his comrades had been successful.
He was in pain all over, but thankfully no bones were
broken. The slightest movement was excruciatingly
painful, but somehow he got up and reached the small
window that was barred. From that window, he could
see the flames rising from the port. The thunder of firing
was also heard. Which gradually decreased.
He turned away from the window and lay down on the
stone floor. Despite all his pain, he felt a strange comfort
in his heart.
After some time German soldiers came to pick him up.
He was presented to Colonel Van Hart, who was furious
with the latest action of the resistance movement. The
Germans had also become suspicious of Carland.
"We've busted most of the gorillas," he roared. "But we
want to know what was your role in all this conspiracy?"

When Carland pretends to be ignorant of any such plan,
the torture begins. His wounded body was put through
new suffering. He kept tolerating everything and at every
stage, the same answer remained on his lips.
"I was right in front of all of you in the ring."
Eventually, they left him. But at that time his condition
was almost like that of a handicapped. Forgetting to
think about boxing, he was feeling apprehensive that he
might never be able to walk properly in his life.
There his companions took care of him with utmost care
and love. He was treated to the extent possible and
finally, he was able to walk with his broken existence.
After that, on a stormy night in torrential rain and
overcast darkness, he managed to leave for England by
sea.
His manager Benny's shrill voice startled him. He was
asking him something. Then Carland came back from
his thoughts and remembered that at this moment he is
not in Norway or England, but in America.

He was lying on the bench in his dressing room. A
master Negro named Sam was massaging him and
seemed to be picking the pain out of his aching joints.
Benny was saying.
"Now your next match will be against the champion.
Now you will only fight for the world championship."
"No," Carland said in a very steady tone.
"My next fight will be only with Thomson."
"What are you talking about?" Benny said angrily.
"Why do you need to bother with boxers here and there?
You can now fight the champion. And I am sure you will
snatch the championship from him. What will you gain
by fighting Thomson?”
"My next match will be only against Thomson," Carland
declared.
"It sounds to me like you have a personal rivalry going
on with Thomson," Benny said irritably.

"Ever since you came to America, you have said that
you will fight Thomson.
I agree that Thomson is also a great boxer and we will
make a fair amount even by fighting him, but fighting a
champion is another matter. "
"Now I will fight only Thomson, no one else, and I do not
wish to discuss the matter any further," Carland's tone
hardened.
"Ok, brother… Benny said helplessly, spreading his
hands.
"Obviously, that's your choice, because it's up to you to
fight. But I wish someone could tell me why you insist so
much."
Carland pursed his lips. He didn't want to tell this
secret to anyone. First, he wanted to distort Thomson's
smiling face. After that maybe he would have told
someone about his heart.
He was a warrior, not a thinker. He was not in the habit
of thinking. But sometimes he wondered about America

and Americans. In the beginning, this country and its
people seemed very strange to him.
They were not in the habit of keeping any memory close
to their heart, good or bad. They wanted to forget
everything as soon as possible. In their opinion, it had
been a long time since the end of the Great War and
they wanted to forget everything related to it and forgive
everyone. But Carland could do neither. He was unable
to adopt the American way of thinking.
When he first learned what he knew, he thought about
contacting the FBI or some similar government agency,
but after considering it to the best of his ability, he
postponed that decision.
He was a simple and rough man. He was afraid that the
FBI would never be convinced, but instead would mock
him, calling him a liar. And it is not far-fetched that they
will jokingly mention it to Thomson as well, terming it as
Carland's foolish thinking, and he will be wary.
Thompson's full name was Billy Thomson. And
Carland sometimes wondered who the real Billy

Thompson might have been and what might have
happened to him.
There was no doubt that an American by that name
had been taken prisoner by the Germans during the
Word War but had probably died sobbing in a prison.
And a new Billy Thomson was created to take his place.
The real Billy Thomson was a chubby rough-and-tumble
boxer before he went into the military and probably had
no family or close friends.
Carland guessed that when he became a prisoner of
war and fell into the hands of the Germans, they must
have very well observed his movements, habits, etc. in
the concentration camp.
They must have obtained all the information about him.
After that, it would have disappeared. And he will be
replaced by the new Billy Thomson.
Then the drama of his escape from the Nazi camp must
have been created and Billy Thomson managed to
reach America in a state of poverty with great difficulty.

Where the newspapers published the story of that brave
man's escape from the Nazi camp with great pomp.
Carland was unable to understand what purpose the
Germans wanted to achieve by pushing a new Billy
Thomson into America. But it was certain that something
was definitely wrong with it. Carland was not interested
in this mess. It was enough for him that this Billy
Thomson was in fact, Fritz Abel.
After some time, Carland started leaving the dressing
room after taking a bath and wearing a suit, then the
manager Benny said while chasing him.
"Won't you have dinner with me?"
"No, I'll eat with a lady. I have an appointment with her,"
said Carland.
"Ohh... so this simple and innocent boxer of ours has a
girlfriend too?" Benny's eyes widened mischievously.
"She's not my girlfriend..." Carland's face flushed.

“She's just my friend. We lived in the same village in
Norway. She is also Norwegian. She has seen very bad
days. Have faced big problems.”
There was no doubt that Signe, the woman he was
about to meet, had seen a really bad time. Her husband
was executed in front of her by the Germans during the
Great War. Her two brothers were captured by the
Germans and were never seen again.
A child was born to her but due to the non-availability of
proper medical facilities, he died at the time of birth.
Many years passed, but the smile did not return to
Signe's lips.
At one time she was considered the most beautiful girl in
the village, whose cheerfulness was also discussed.
There was always a beautiful smile on her lips and stars
of innocent happiness twinkled in her blue eyes.
Carland wondered if he would ever be able to bring
back the smile on Signe's lips and the sparkle in her
eyes.

As a child, Signe also participated in sports with him
and Fritz Abel. Their fourth partner was Sever, with
whom Signe was later married.
Today when he reached that special restaurant, Signe
was already present at a special table. Her face had the
same seriousness that sometimes bordered on sadness.
"Did you see today's match?" Carland asked.
"Yeah. I started feeling sorry for poor Mike," Signe said.
"What's your schedule now? Will you fight for the
championship?
"No. Before the championship, I want to spoil the face of
a guy named Billy Thomson. I want to break his bones.
Crush him... He fell silent all of a sudden. He felt Signe
giving him strange looks. She was looking at him intently
as if she knew about the background of his hatred.
She took a deep breath and said, "Carland! Today,
during your competition, I saw a person in the crowd that
we didn't even imagine could see us here.

Carland's heartbeat suddenly quickened. He had
guessed that in this tone, at such a special stage, whom
Signe was referring to.
This meant that She also recognized Thomson. As a
kid, Fritz got into a fight with Sever over something.
Sever was quick to anger. He picked up a branch of the
tree and hit it on Fritz's face, injuring his face and
leaving a small triangular scar forever.
The Germans made several changes to his appearance
with plastic surgery, giving him the form of Billy
Thomson. Surely they would not have ignored that
triangular mark as well, but perhaps after some time had
passed, that mark had re-emerged. By that mark, Signe
could easily recognize Thomson.
There were many other little things by which his
comrades could identify each other. Although the
Germans undoubtedly worked very hard on Fritz. And
he himself must have tried hard to be Billy Thomson.
"Yes," said Signe softly. "I knew him when I saw him. I
felt for a moment as if he would speak to me. But then
he turned and walked away from me in his characteristic
way.

I followed him unconsciously, then he looked back. Do
you remember when Fritz, you, me, and Sever used to
dress up as rednecks when we were kids, and we had a
secret gesture to attack the enemy?"
"Yeah, that's how we used to signal to each other."
Carland showed his big fingers interlocked in a
characteristic way.
"Yes, I gave that signal to Thomson. And he
involuntarily raised his hand, but he seemed to
understand in time and stopped giving the signal. Then
he turned and disappeared into the crowd of onlookers,
walking with quick steps." Signe told.
"I've made the same mistake," said Carland. When I
saw him for the first time, I had unintentionally given the
same signal to confirm my suspicion.
Even at that time, he stopped by raising his hand in
response. But I think I didn't do him any good by making
him feel that I recognized him.”

He should have remained ignorant. However, after
recognizing him, I made big plans about it. Sometimes I
thought of going to the authorities, but I am not good at
communicating and persuading others. I felt that
everyone would find my story childish.
Then I thought that one day I would catch him in a dark
street and beat him to near death. But finally, I came to
the conclusion that whatever I want to do with him I can
do it in front of everyone's eyes, even under the shadow
of the law and no one can punish me, no one can stop
me.
If I challenge that I can get rid of him in the ring and
instead of a case of murder or manslaughter being
registered against me, people will shout and applaud,
and I will get a reward. Pictures will also be published in
newspapers.
The competition will also be shown on TV. The purpose
is that there is benefit and protection from all sides. He'll
defend himself if he's got the strength."
Signe remained silent. After a moment's pause, Carland
said,

"Billy Thomson came to America before me, and he
quickly rose to prominence here in the world of boxing.
But its development stopped at one point. My case has
been that ever since I've seen him, there's been a fire in
my chest. Maybe that's why I have been winning every
competition to date. Although some of the people I have
competed with were much better than me, maybe it was
just my passion that I was able to defeat them.”
"And now you're ready to face Fritz Abel's sobriquet,
Billy Thomson," Signe said.
"Yeah. Now I'm ready to compete with him," Carland
said, examining his large, iron hands.
"And I want our match to last longer than the one that
took place in Norway during the Second World War
under the supervision of Colonel Van Hart." The
reflection of bitter memories of that fight emerged on his
face.
"Fritz was a purebred German from childhood," Signe
spoke in a thoughtful tone.

"Don't you remember, he used to say from his childhood
that the German nation is the best nation in the world
and one day only Germans will rule the whole world. I
don't know who instilled such thoughts in his mind since
childhood."
"These ideas were in his blood," Carland said bitterly.
"Look at his impudence that the country that sheltered
him as a child, where the people who cherished him,
were cruelly suffering in front of him, dying by rubbing
their heels, moaning from hunger and poverty, in
concentration camps. were rotting and spitting blood,
and he was proud of the exploits of his great armies.
For a moment they were both sad in silence. Then Signe
said,
"You don't want to inform the FBI, etc about his
identity?"
"No. I will do whatever I think to punish him." Carland
said decisively.

"Once I have dealt with him in the ring, after that you
can advise me what to do. I am not a very clever man. I
have no manners to talk to. In such matters, always
Someone's help will be needed. I have lost you once in
my life, but now I want to hope that I will be with you. I
will have your company."
"Only by hope do they live, whose universe has been
ravaged forever by Fritz and millions of his compatriots,"
Signe said in a sad voice.
On the night of the match, when Carland entered the
ring by bending through the ropes, the hall was packed
with spectators. When Billy Thomson reached his corner
from the other side, the cheering noise of the onlookers
reached its peak.
Benny was saying. "Carland, you can beat Billy, but it
won't be an easy task.
There is no doubt that he is a devastating boxer. His
two-handed performance is unmatched and he hits his
opponent with great ferocity. You will not be oblivious
even for a moment."

"I know," Carland smiled. He couldn't tell Benny that he
had been a vigilante for years. How can he be careless?
They faced each other in the middle of the ring for a
ritual. The referee was telling them the rules and
regulations for the sake of formality. which they knew.
Carland raised his head and looked into Fritz's eyes. His
eyes were empty of every impression. For only a second
did Carland see a look of fear in his eyes. Carland
couldn't decide whether it was fear of the past, the
present, or the future, the German experts had
doubtless changed his appearance, But they would not
have been able to take away his memory.
Representative of the Germans who wanted to keep the
world on its toes, Carland felt a strange relief for a
moment at the sight of him terrified.
He said in a calm voice,
"Fight properly Thomson! This competition will be
watched not only by the crowd of the living but also by
many souls. Souls of the innocent dead!"

Without saying a word, Thomson turned with a jerk and
went to his corner. Carland laughed softly and came
back and increased the flexion of his muscles by pulling
on the ring ropes.
The bell rang and Carland came to the center of the
ring to stop Thomson's attack. He attacked him with
great force. Probably because he was very restless
inside. The onlookers cheered at the enthusiastic start.
Carland stopped both of his blows and hit a successful
left, the jerk of which he felt in the face of Fritz aka
Thomson.
At the same time, he landed a right punch to Thomson's
stomach and backed away in immense relief. It was
those two intruders who had baffled Thomson.
The spectators stood up in excitement. The hall
resounded with their noise.
They could not believe that such a condition could
happen at the beginning of a terrible and destructive
boxer like Thomson. Even the white rubber mouthpiece
came out of his mouth.

Someone near ringside was yelling at Carland to move
on and teach him a lesson, but Carland made no effort.
He kept jumping on his toes and circling Thomson. He
was giving Thomson a chance to recover. He didn't want
the competition to end so soon.
After Thompson recovers, Carland attacks him.
Thomson once again frantically tried to aim at his face. It
was his fault that he had lost his confidence and instead
of attacking with calmness and composure, was
frantically trying left and right.
Carland's punches landed successfully, sometimes on
his forehead, sometimes on his temple, and sometimes
on his jaw, while Carland blocked most of his blows.
Eventually, a punch from Carland landed on Thomson's
nose and his face was covered in blood. Carland was
relieved to see blood on Thomson's face. This was only
the beginning.
As Carland retreated to his corner at the end of the sixth
round, Benny complained.

“You could have knocked him out if you wanted to. In
fact, the fight could have probably been decided in the
last round.”
"What's the hurry?" Carland's swollen lips appeared with
a soft smile.
"The match will be decided. People have bought tickets.
Let them be entertained for a while."
But in the seventh round, the spectators started
shouting that the referee should stop the fight. At the
end of that round, the Boxing Commission doctor came
to examine Thomson and asked Thomson if he wanted
to accept the defeat and stop the fight.
Thomson helplessly shook his head no. His ego was not
allowing him even this.
At the start of the eighth round, Carland attacked him
furiously.
He was reading a lesson in his mind. This right punch is
in the name of my neighbor Hilda, who was dragged by
the hair and shot in the street by your fanatics. It's a

right-punch named Sever, with whom you played as a
child, but whom you smiled at when he was killed by the
Germans.
Thus he continued to throw each punch in the name of
someone or the other, and finally delivering the decisive
punch, he said loudly, "This punch is for the world that
has been saved from ruin at your hands.
With that, Thomson fell into the ring.
Carland could not help but be ecstatic when he saw
Thomson wave his hand menacingly and hear him say
in a low voice.
"For God's sake... for God's sake don't kill me, Carland.
We were friends once upon a time... please...."
With this request for mercy, all the pleasure of revenge
ended. Now killing half of the person with that disfigured
face was like crushing a spider under the shoes.
Carland left it there in a huff and went to the neutral
corner on the instructions of the referee.

He couldn't hear the referee's count to ten, the noise of
the crowd, the cheers, nothing. It is not known for how
long his mind remained completely blank and his
hearing impaired.
After several minutes he was able to feel his
surroundings. Then his eyes fell on Signe. She was
standing a few feet away from the ring and was smiling.
Taking Signe's signal, Carland looked to the other corner
of the ring.
Thomson was being carried away, but Carland was
surprised to learn that the men surrounding Thompson
were not affiliated with the Boxing Commission.
They were in dark suits. There were also hats on the
heads. Their faces were emotionless but yet their
identity was written on their faces. They were definitely
from the FBI. Carland looked at Signe questioningly.
Signe nodded yes. She was still smiling
The FBI was definitely called by her. And she was happy
at her achievement.
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Reunion In The Ring.pdf

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Reunion In The Ring.pdf