Stories of the World War

I was young but influenced greatly by my great Uncle Will when he came to my parents house for dinner some evenings. His tales of the Great War was fascinating. In between tales, he would drag out his souveniers. The wool blanket with the bullet holes. The German Helment, the bloody sweater, the wool socks. Uncle Will was quite a souvenier hunter. He came back with German belt buckles, postcards, German shells made into ashtrays that was taken off a German officer's desk. He kept everything, even World War I era newspapers. He always had a story to tell about each one. Every thing including his helment was locked up in his two or three footlockers.
What bothered me most was his weeping. He would tell his stories and weep from the sheer terror of remembering.
One tale he told was of running through the lines to fetch water. As he reached a town plaza, he found a fountain to fill up the canteens he had with him. As he reached the fountain, he looked up and a German soldier was staring at him from across the fountain. He would begin to weep saying "He had the most beautiful blue eyes." The soldier was dead. He had died trying to drink from the same fountain.