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Dark Night, cold Night, Horrible Night in Villers-devant-Dun T he time is around six in the evening and it has been dark for a while. All my buddies are very tired from our difficult march over a battlefield littered with dead bodies—where both sides are still fighting with horrible determination. We arrived in Villers as darkness set in under a constant rain. We had planned to sleep in the village as ordered in the afternoon. I learned of the counterorder after supper—we were to continue moving forward until we caught up with our line of fire, which is forcing the Germans to retreat in near disarray. At this time we are all leaning against our backpacks awaiting orders. I was letting some of my friends in on the order I had seen when a soldier stood up to accuse me of lying and to insult me sarcastically. This made my blood boil and I responded a thousand times louder and angrier. He did not dare respond. My friends were surprised to see me so angry. I felt embarrassed as I calmed down, but it was too late. The rain continued to come down as the bright flashes of the exploding shells tore through the intense darkness of that cold night. The sudden bursts provided enough light to make out the black walls and stones of the demolished buildings on both sides of the street. At that point we heard, as if coming from the center of hell itself, the overbearing voice of authority saying, “ready, forward!” We moved at a slow pace, pausing often. Once we were on the outskirts of Villers and out in the countryside, the darkness seemed to intensify. We could not see anything clearly, but we could detect the shelling with our feet. The awful smell of decaying blood and the numerous humps on the edge of the road or at the entrance of the dugouts told us of the many casualties that had occurred. When I realized how many bodies may have been in the area, I thought: “Forgive my trespasses as I forgive those of my enemies.” We continued through that dark, cold, and horrible night all the while stepping on the many dead bodies, the remains of “our fellow man.” 273 My Personal Diary 274 The underground area was the only available place for sleeping, but some dead Germans also occupied the place. We moved them to one side and prepared our beds. Some of our buddies were already snoring away. In situations like these we do not have to show too much respect for the dead since they are not too far removed from us, the living. Many of us will also be cadavers this evening or tomorrow. The danger that surrounds us may explain why the dead do not have a foul smell or an ugly appearance. I had just gone to bed when I started thinking about the many events I had witnessed the past few days, especially the one from yesterday that I should include in my diary. I immediately started to write in the candlelight. Yesterday, we saw the body of Simón González as we entered Villersdevant -Dun, a village in total ruin. He fell on November 1. I learned about his death from a friend of his who was marching to his right during that terrible attack on the village. The Germans resisted ferociously from their positions in the old houses. The demolished houses served the Germans well as our soldiers advanced in waves and without protection. They advanced like the waves of the sea over the fields of wheat and beets. The heavens were their only protection. In their final effort to hold their positions, the Germans have used machine guns and the “curtains of fire” against the fearless “tin soldiers,” so named by the German leaders when we arrived in these lands of the old world. “The turkeys were really gobbling,” I was told by the soldier who was relating the story to me. By “turkeys” he meant machine guns. In spite of it all, the waves of men dressed in olive uniforms continued to overrun everything in their relentless advance. Some fell and the others would step over their bodies to hold the ground taken with blood and fire. Our soldiers fired a bullet at every step and hit the ground at five paces, or they would kneel to load their rifles with five new rounds. Many of...

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