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Friday, November 1 D aylight found us alive and well, but we did not get up until late. We will never forget what we saw last night. A shell landed on the few branches of the splintered tree with the roots that covered our heads. The explosion destroyed our little fort, and big pieces of shrapnel dug into the boxes that then fell on us. This happened while Barrera was on his feet. A splinter slightly bigger than a needle struck him on the back of his neck, reminding us that we were not free of danger. Of course, Gómez and I had a good scare because we thought we had lost our friend. While Gómez stood guard, a huge shell had landed close to the foxhole where Barrera and I were sleeping. We do not know how many minutes we were unconscious. Although we were fine, we did not realize until Gómez woke us up that we were covered in dirt. The explosion had killed soldiers sleeping next to us. We had expected the sight that was before us in the morning. Large numbers of German prisoners began arriving. The wretched men looked relieved because they had managed to survive. What more could one expect? The prisoners included old men, young ones, and even younger boys. One of their artillery officers was drunk and could hardly walk. The others were ready to answer questions. They discovered that we did not hate them like soldiers of other races would have. We do not harbor significant resentment because we have not been subject to the outrageous actions they have taken on the Poles, French, Belgians, Italians, and British. It broke our hearts to see this part of the war. Many of our wounded soldiers were arriving without having received any medical treatment. Many had bled all night and were very weak. One of them took off his jacket and shirt to show us two wounds on his back that reached all the way to his chest. Although the wounds were not critical, they were very dangerous. Another soldier was missing his entire lower jaw. The others had missing feet and supported themselves on the shoulders of their companions, as Sergeant Darnell How We Destroyed Hindenburg’s Impregnable Trenches 256 257 How We Destroyed Hindenburg’s Impregnable Trenches had done. Several had head, arm, and leg wounds. They have suffered all this and maybe more at the hands of the Germans, who were trained to wage the cruelest war in the history of man. The point, however, is that the lowly private bears it all, or the worst of it. Moreover, he is not the cause of these infernal wars that are pounding mankind. Demented human race, you exalt the martial spirit instead of suppressing it! A group of German artillerymen confessed that they had never seen anything like our cannon fire and that the barrage did not give them time to find a foxhole. Their commander had disappeared into his foxhole to drink wine and avoid the inevitable pain of death. He had ordered them to do as they pleased. They waited to die or be taken prisoners by our soldiers. This is corroborated by the large number of men who gave up without a fight. They say their only hope for survival was to fall into our hands. They were really scared of the British and the French. Why? What had they done to those people? Behold the history with its bloody pages that they wrote in Belgium and northern France. They understand everything all too well and, consequently, fear these aggrieved peoples. Soon thereafter, our brothers charged the enemy positions. A line of machine guns next to us had been directing heavy fire since around five in the morning. The firing suddenly stopped and we heard the clear and distinct voice of the officers, “Over the top and forward.” What a terrible order. We were to jump out bare chested and into the clutches of death, to attack an enemy that was barricaded in his impregnable trenches, and to brave the curtains of machine gun and rifle fire and all the other modern inventions of war. Our advance was noticeable as the enemy’s fire declined and their major hellish offensive lost steam. We also noticed that their cannon grew increasingly silent, mostly because our own guns were hitting their mark. The cannon from hell that had fired on us all night were being silenced, perhaps...

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