March 30, 1945
Near Berga, Germany
When war is declared, plenty of damage follows. Those damages go beyond the destruction of nature and architecture.
As a soldier, you see and do things that don't get mentioned in the newspapers or on the radio back home. If a nation needs more soldiers, they can't risk scaring their men. The many enlistment posters plastered on the walls of buildings as you walk down the street wouldn't serve their purpose if men knew everything about what they're actually signing up for. All they really need to know is that it's their "duty" to their country.
Others don't get the option to choose if they'd like to carry out that "duty." The decision is made for them and they receive the dreaded letter in the mail telling them to pack their bags. They leave behind their homes, their families, their lives, not knowing if they'll ever return again.
War drastically changes the everyday life of a civilian turned soldier. You learn to be grateful for things you might have taken for granted before. Being dirty is the new normal; clean clothes are a luxury. The food you're given might not be the tastiest, but you either eat it or grow weak. The ground is often your bed, but you might not be lucky enough to lay on it and rest every night. In a way, the lifestyle shares some similarities with living in poverty, except you receive a monthly paycheck to live this way along with having to worry about being killed by the enemy at any moment.
As soldiers, we are trained to kill. Some are better at it than others, but we all are meant to eventually use our training to end a life before ours can be ended first. The things we do on the battlefield would get us arrested as civilians, yet the circumstances lead to many people praising us for carrying out our "duty."
Before I enlisted, I was a civilian who praised my country's soldiers. Based on what my father told me about his war experiences, I knew that carrying out bad acts is part of being a soldier, but I understood that those acts do not mean that a soldier is a bad person. That's not to say that there aren't soldiers with bad intentions, but I think it's important to remember that soldiers aren't the ones responsible for the war. The government has the power to declare war on another nation; soldiers are left to do the dirty work. Even if they're fighting voluntarily, it's not unlikely that the posters telling them to enlist played a part in them doing so. For that reason, I still praise the many men who either lost the fight or are still fighting because they are part of the damage caused by the war.
Death and destruction are plentiful in war; it does not have many pretty sights. There are things you see more than once that may not become easier to look at. A common sight is the bodies of comrades and enemies scattered across the ground. If the bodies have been there for a while, they most likely will appear as bloated and the foul vomit-inducing stench of decay dominates the surrounding air.
Because I often helped the medics, that introduced me to even more horrible sights: excessive bleeding, head wounds, damage to the face, trench foot, raw flesh, traumatic amputations. The smells and sounds were not any nicer. The cries of the wounded sometimes made me want to fall into a full-blown panic because of how overwhelming they became, but I somehow managed to hold myself together because their lives depended on my ability to focus and help them even if there was only so much we could do to ease their pain. During all that, the metallic smell of blood normally overpowered my nose and became more chemical as time passed.
When we started our search for the camps, I don't think any of us really knew what we would find. I didn't want to believe that there could be worse things to see. As we've traveled through the heartland of Germany over these past few weeks, my faith in humanity has truly been challenged. I hadn't expected the Nazis to treat POWs very nicely, but their treatment exceeded my expectations and it was shocking to discover that POWs weren't the only people receiving it. All along, the Nazis had also been keeping certain civilians that they considered undesirable in terrible conditions and treating them with nothing but evil; the victims being not only men but women, children, and the elderly as well.
It was difficult to take in what we saw because it was a cruelty none of us could have imagined. The Nazis had kept the prisoners behind fences of barbed wire, overworking them to where the exhaustion could kill them. The workload didn't combine well with the way they had also been very underfed. They had been completely dehumanized and turned skeletal, barely hanging on to life; their faces sunken in and their skin clinging to their bones. These poor civilians and men who had once been fit soldiers had been forced to live cramped together and in filth, while also dealing with pain from the heavy labor and their bodies begging them for food. They were so relieved to be liberated, but their vacant eyes showed that it would be a long time before the spirit could make its way back into them if possible.
The camps had been abandoned by the Nazis with their attempts to destroy them often visible. Each camp we came across left us more sickened and surprised because we kept learning more about them. It became clear very quickly that the Nazis had not only created these camps for cheap labor but to annihilate. Some of the camps had chambers where we had been told the Nazis would put prisoners "unfit" for work and suffocate them to death with deadly gases. That familiar stench of decay seemed to surround just about every camp we liberated. The treatment of the prisoners varied from camp to camp but there were a few things that seemed to remain the same: the people starving and sick, the conditions filthy, and corpses lying amongst the living.
After everything I've seen, I can't help but feel ashamed of myself for thinking we had experienced living in filth. Although we went weeks without a proper shower, we at least had the privilege of being able to use rivers or the water supplies of towns and villages to clean ourselves up a bit. The prisoners, on the other hand, had to deal with not having the opportunity to wash up while living amongst feces, urine, and the dead.
Because my platoon was given the task of locating camps so medical attention could be sent their way, our medics didn't always have the right amount of supplies to assist the victims at the start. The wait for more medical personal and supplies is always an anxious one because although the victims are free from the evildoers who had put them in their terrible states, they are not free from death. Not only are they in need of treatment for their malnutrition, but many are also suffering from diseases; a few common ones being tuberculosis*, dysentery*, and pneumonia*. Chronic diarrhea* is also a common problem amongst the prisoners and contributes to the foul rotting smell of the camps, suffocating us like toxic fumes. Even when we're away from the camps, the smell lingers as if it has left a stain in my nostrils.
My platoon had worked vigorously to help set up hospitals in the camps for the medical personal so they could have a cleaner area to care for the many patients. Some of the prisoners who somehow still had enough strength to work helped us which gave me more strength to work harder so the process of nursing them all back to health could start faster.
I was the only one in my squad capable of helping the prisoners medically because of the medic training I received in basic. I mainly assisted in bandaging and treating wounds that the prisoners had received during the rigorous labor they were forced to do. Many of the wounds were infected because of the lack of medical care they had received and because we didn't have a large supply of penicillin*, patients were selected in a way that meant those who needed it most would receive it. I also helped to give patients plasma* for their dehydration which wasn't an easy task because of how invisible their veins have become. The same problem arose when medics needed to give patients blood transfusions which became a possible procedure due to many soldiers, including myself, taking the time to donate blood.
Although I hadn't been fully trained as a medic, I learned a good amount of information to at least be trusted to do certain tasks. The experience I have helps me feel confident in my abilities when I'm learning something new from a medic. Even when you know what you're doing, the high amounts of stress still take a toll on a person eventually and can jumble your mind for a bit. Losing the ability to think straight can even come to those with the most training and experience even if only for a few seconds because the realization that someone's life is in your hands can be a strong one.
Because the prisoners are in very bad shape, doing the right thing doesn't always mean it's going to help them; we had to learn that the hard way when it came to treating their malnutrition. At the first camp we helped liberate, we thought that any type of food would be good for their starving bodies. Knowing it would be a good while before we could supply everyone with a meal, we did what we could and handed out some of our rations to random prisoners which many of them didn't hesitate to eat. Aching guilt attached itself to me because we didn't have the resources to feed everyone, but when some of the prisoners died after eating, we soon realized that our act of kindness had become a killer.
The reality that these people had managed to survive in these terrible camps all so they could die because we tried to help them is frustrating. We had no idea that to feed a starving person could be fatal. Their shrunken stomachs couldn't handle digesting the rich foods we had given them which led to medical personal having to put them on a diet consisting of soft foods and liquids.
There has been plenty of work to do ever since the discovery of these camps and it doesn't look like it will slow down any time soon. Of course, we're given time to rest, but that's been a difficult thing for me to do lately. To say I've been taking care of myself would be a lie. Most nights, I lay awake thinking about all the people in need of our help along with the ones we still have yet to find. The cruelty they faced, the starvation, the pain, the fact many of them are separated from their families; I can't stop thinking of it all. I want to help them as much as I can which is why sitting around, and doing nothing makes me anxious because there are things I could be doing to help.
The thought of Zussman has been another one that makes it hard for me to fall asleep. Seeing what the Nazis had done to the POWs makes me worry about him even more, especially since we've had no luck in finding him at any of the camps we've liberated. This could mean that he's at a camp that still has yet to be found. I hate to think about it but it's hard not to imagine him starving and sick like the rest of the prisoners because I doubt his captors were any nicer. I can only hope that if we find him alive, we can get him the help he needs in time.
Not only have I not been sleeping well, but I also haven't had the biggest appetite either. I find it hard to feel hungry when so much that I've seen during these past few weeks has left me feeling sick to my stomach. I have to force myself to eat every now and then though because I need all the energy I can get since I lose out on a lot due to my lack of sleep.
The work I do in the hospitals is overwhelming and in no way calming, but it does keep my mind distracted. In those moments, my mind is focused on making sure the people are receiving the medical attention they need or that they're in stable conditions. When I'm not doing anything, I'm given too much time to think and my mind tends to revert to worrying. The things I worry about mostly consist of my father's health, my family possibly going into poverty, and of course, Zussman. It's exhausting and when I'm lucky enough to finally fall asleep, it's nice to have a blank mind even if it's only for a little while.
I know the boys have noticed how much I've been overworking myself lately. None of them have bothered to say too much about it since I'm sure they know why, but when they're not busy with their own work, they'll come and ask me if I need help with anything. To know you're surrounded by people who care about you comes with a pleasant warmth that can't be ignored.
Besides helping me with tasks, they each have their own ways of showing they care. Daniels' way comes with being friendly but also attempting to use his higher rank to advise me not to take a workload I can't handle. It's not that he doesn't think I'm capable of working in the hospitals since he's praised me for the help I've given to prisoners, but there are days where he'll send me to do tasks that could be considered simple so I can give my mind a break away from the chaos. When it comes to Stiles, he often checks up on me and we usually end up discussing something random like our favorite candy or music, nothing too serious. I love our conversations because they not only make us feel normal, but they help take our minds off what we've seen. As for Aiello, he's never been one to get too personal and he's been pretty quiet lately, but there have been times where he'll sit with me and ask how I'm doing, throwing in jokes when he can as the conversation progresses. He'll occasionally go as far as bringing me a cup of coffee.
I never want them to think I expect their pity, especially considering they each have their own worries and struggles. That's why I also take the time to be there for them because to receive kindness is lovely but to give it can be so helpful to the wellbeing of someone. It could either be as simple as asking how their day is going or as tough as deeply discussing what's giving their minds trouble.
Let's say, I find Stiles all alone and in tears again because of the atrocities he's seen or photographed, I'll be there once more to be the shoulder he can cry on and remind him that his photographs will have a huge impact on telling the story of our time in history. If Daniels expresses his concerns about being a father to us again, I'll be there to tell him why he will be a good father to learn from and look up to or that being a parent, like most jobs, will have things he will get the hang of. If Aiello seems a little too quiet than normal because maybe he's missing his Ma, his siblings, his hometown, or he's saddened by what he's seen, I'll be there to reassure him that he's not far from going home or reminisce and laugh with him about our funny childhood memories to focus less on the sadness.
After a long day of work, I may be exhausted, but if any of the boys are in need to voice what's on their mind, I'm always willing to muster up the energy to listen and offer them words that may give them some comfort. Why do such things if we all go home and never see each other again? Because these men have become more than just soldiers I fight alongside; they've become like family to me and will remain in my heart and mind for as long as I live.
There are even struggles we all share. One being the anxiousness to get out of these uniforms and go home to our families. Another being that we've all started to worry about Zussman even more now. Before all this, I don't think any of us imagined Zussman being in a position where he would become weak and bony from starvation and an extreme workload.
The reality of the camps had really put a noticeable damper on our hope to find Zussman alive. It had really become a careful subject whenever someone would mention him every now and then. There would be a few uncomfortable shifts of movement and the men's eyes would seem dim from the loss of hope; eye contact with me was avoided. The person speaking about him, which is Daniels most of the time, would speak slowly and stutter here and there. When the conversation would end, there seemed to be an ability to breathe easier as the tension would go down, but the rising concern within us all could be felt.
Lately, I had stopped wanting to be reassured about finding Zussman alive because I didn't want to get my hopes up too much. I didn't have to say anything because the boys gradually stopped telling me that we would find Zussman or that I shouldn't think so negatively. I don't blame them for struggling to keep the hope they once had about the situation; it's not easy to reassure someone when you don't fully believe what you're telling them. Even Pierson appears to have lost some hope, expecting us to know we should be searching for Zussman rather than reminding us to do so when we arrive at a new camp as he did with the first few we came across.
Dealing with the workload that comes with liberating the camps, our missing comrade, and the war's end nearing, we do have our moments where we give each other some time alone such as today. It had been another hectic day of work at the hospital of the camp we'd been staying at. We weren't the ones who'd liberated it, but we had been helping out here for about a week, waiting to hear our next move from Pierson.
Our campsite was set up on the outskirts of the fenced prisoner camp amongst the many campsites of other squads. I had been at our campsite for almost an hour and noticed Daniels still hadn't arrived which made me think Pierson gave him a lot to do today. As for the other two boys, Stiles was busy writing in the journal he started a few months back while Aiello had been drinking his second cup of coffee before going off to pee.
Supper time would be soon, so I decided to use this free time to work on clearing my mind. I had been spending about twenty minutes laying down on my sleeping bag with my eyes closed, attempting to imagine the inside of my mind as a blank canvas. There were multiple times where a worrying thought would intrude and I'd have to do my best to fight it and push it away, but there was a short moment where the storm in my head seemed to cease. It was if a ring of peace had surrounded me, protecting me from any bad thoughts that were ready to attack.
A tap to my boot suddenly snapped me out of my moment of peace, startling me and making me jolt up. When I looked up to see who the boots standing to the side of me belonged to, I was met by Aiello, holding his metal cup of coffee. His lips were apart and his teeth clenched as if to say "oops!"
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he said.
"Jeez, Aiello, did you have to kick her?" Stiles said.
"I didn't kick her!" Aiello glared at him for a moment before returning his attention to me.
"Yeah, Aiello, why'd you have to kick me? So rude." I crossed my arms, pressing my lips together to stop myself from grinning.
Aiello huffed as he walked over to his sleeping bag and sat down.
"But really, why'd you do that? Is there something you need?" I asked.
"Pierson told me to tell you to meet him at his tent when you can. He wants to speak with you."
I froze up for a moment, my heart rate slightly getting faster. Pierson wanting to speak with me alone? This situation sure isn't any help for my worrying problem I can't seem to control lately; it's more like fuel.
"Did he say about what?" I asked.
"Nope. This is Pierson we're talkin' about. He won't say anything he doesn't have to."
"Yup," I sighed as I stood up. I faced Aiello and Stiles and held my hands out by my sides. "I'm off, men, to what could be my end."
"Cool it, Shakespeare," Aiello said, giving me a two-finger salute. "Good luck."
"Thanks, I just might need it." I gave the two men a wave and walked off in the direction of Pierson's tent.
"I bet you've never even read Shakespeare," I heard Stiles say.
"Oh, shut up, College," Aiello said, making me regret having to leave them alone.
Pierson's tent wasn't very far from our campsite, so it wouldn't have been troublesome for him to walk over and tell me that he wants to speak to me. It definitely might've been awkward so I'm a little glad he didn't.
As I slowly approached the tent, my hands became clammy.
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Chapter Song: "On the Nature of Daylight" composed by Max Richter
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* "tuberculosis": a potentially serious infectious bacterial disease that mainly affects the lungs.
* "dysentery": infection of the intestines resulting in severe diarrhea with the presence of blood and mucus in the feces.
* "pneumonia": infection that inflames air sacs in one or both lungs, which may fill with fluid.
* "chronic diarrhea": loose, watery bowel movements that may occur frequently and with a sense of urgency.
* "penicillin": an antibiotic used to treat many different types of infections caused by bacteria.
* "plasma": the liquid portion of blood, which transports nutrients and wastes and maintains blood pressure and homeostasis.