text: March 14th 1945 Pvt. Daniel Brody. 9th Division Infantry. Nurse Cora says I should write about what happened. She thinks it might help me get over the emotional trauma, or at least help me cope, and deal with the nightmares that continue to haunt me. It has been six months, and still it continues to remain vivid in my memory, sometimes I feel like it's happening all over again, and I cannot be rid of the torment, or the guilt. In my sleep, I see the faces of my comrades looking at me in shame and distress. I would much rather face defeat in the trenches, over the war in my mind, at least there I could possibly redeem myself. A second chance for death to take me, in honor of those who fell before me. I thought I had died that day, (September 19th 1944) We were marching along the southern edge of Aachen Germany, The last thing I remember was an explosion, followed by agonizing screams, and a searing pain in my leg, before I blacked out, I thought I had breathed my last, but there I was, laid out on a stretcher, drenched in blood. It was then I realized I had failed, failed my unit, and failed to die. I could not determine, where I felt the most defeat, between the pain and the knowledge, it was because of me stepping on a trip mine, five of my friends had died, and somehow I survived. I laid there, useless and limbless, begging for death to take me, begging the medic’s to leave me to die alone, I wasn’t worth saving. I felt ashamed of the tears that flowed like flood waters, down my face, I screamed and thrashed, but I could do nothing. The medics ignored me, and went about their business, when I refused to comply, they forced morphine down my throat, till my body went still, my brain became foggy, and I fought that too. Twice I attempted to rip off the bandages, and tear the stitches, to bring about the death, I felt I justly deserved, but even in my attempt’s I was defeated. I took little comfort in knowing in this I was not alone, the field hospital was full of men ready to die, and equally those not yet ready to give in. On Sept 27th. They put me on the ambulance and said I was headed for England, where I was to convalesce with the other wounded survivors, till arrangements could be made to send me back home. The doctors called me lucky, as they carried me, I felt anything but, looking down at the stump that used to be my leg. Sure I still had my right leg, but in my mind, I might as well have lost both, what good was one leg? I would never walk again, and be nothing but a burden to my family. At least I have no regrets, about ending things with Lucy, she definitely wouldn’t want me now. By Oct 3rd, I found myself in a manor, in the English countryside, it was here I first met The Chaplain and Nurse Cora, who made it there sole responsibility to convince me I still had a purpose, and that I was a hero and had so much to live for. It was probably the first time I had laughed in weeks, had they been there, they would not think me a hero. They said it wasn’t my fault, anyone could have accidentally set off the mine, that if I hadn’t, somebody else would have. The Chaplain would argue God wasn’t done with me yet, and that my purpose would be revealed in time. He spent many hours with me in this manner. I much preferred Nurse Cora’s company, she was more understanding of my plight, she often told me stories of other soldiers, who had lost limbs and carried on, and now as I write this memory, I realize it was an act of cowardice on my part, I spent months wishing for the end, thinking it was honorable, but the truth of the matter was the fact, I was too afraid to face the future, quite frankly I still am, but if the hundreds of men that come through here like myself, have learned to adjust to a new way of life, they are braver men than I could ever hope to be. Though my struggles with nightmares continues to plague my very soul, cursing me with self-doubt, thanks to Chaplain Harvey and Nurse Cora, I had found the courage, to press on, I still found plenty of room for complaint, and wallowing in self-pity, and times of discouragement, but I now fight the battle of regaining my ability to walk again. The prosthetic leg they have attached to my stump, is an ugly piece of machinery, and awkward to control without the help of a crutch or cane, I have fallen on my face more times than I care to count, I have lost my faith, and found it again, I have cried and laughed, with my new friends. Tomorrow it will be time for me to go home, my battle with the world is over, but the battle over my mind and body, has begun in full force. I fear what my family will think of me, I wonder how I can find my way in society again, I will never be the same person I was before. I said my goodbyes, and told Nurse Cora, I would take her advice, and write my thoughts down, and I promised I would write her often. Every time I doubt, I think about what Chaplain Harvey said about God not being done with me, somehow, someway, I still had a purpose, and I had to find it. At first I hated the chaplain, every time he reminded me, but now I can’t help but smile, when I think of those encouraging words he said so often; “You have suffered only a moment of defeat, but you have a lifetime of victories ahead of you” I will probably forget this often, but these words I have written will be my reminder, and in the days to come, whatever challenge I face, may this remind me I have much to live for.