June 13, 1945 - Brussels, Belgium

11.51am.
North Wind ~ 1-2 knots
Temp: 81F

Waking up to the sound or smell of gun powder and flesh has become the norm now. When it isn't present is when something is wrong, or about to go wrong. Nightmares are a welcome experience now, since a nightmare is a nightmare and reality is reality. Quite often I find myself in a firefight not knowing whether I'm dreaming a dream or breathing and living in reality.

The bunkers are becoming a cesspool of emotions. Life is all but gone, but given the circumstances not to mention every body's long face, you'd think these bunkers were waiting lines for execution. Honestly, in hindsight, that is what they are. Part of me wishes that for just a brief moment, just a few minutes, I could cross into the enemy territory unarmed and shake hands with the foreigners. So I could tell them I don't hate them. I'm not here because I want to be. I'm here cause I'm forced to be. No hard feelings.

Nikolai made mention of his wife and daughter back home. He misses them so much. Sometimes in a fit of impatience, he kicks over artillery cans and hurts himself. Says that pain is better then sadness. I agree. Me, I don't have much back home. I barely even have a home.

When...oh, when will this all be over?

~

I don't know whether to be upset or shocked. I think I'm feeling both right now. I wasn't expecting the phone call from her mom. I didn't get a chance to say anything else besides 'hello'. I didn't even have a chance to apologize. Honestly, though I don't think it would've done much. She called me 'estupido'. I cant even remember the last time someone called me that. In any case, she said what she had to say. I'm sure eventually she'll feel better about it. Mothers will always be mothers. I expected better from her, but her feelings are her feelings, and I respect that. What I did was wrong, I know. But now my situation is in the hands of a greater power then those of imperfect men. Eventually this will all blow over. Just a memory. A lesson learned. But, damn...she was upset. Almost like a mother bear goes into kill-mode when one of her offspring is in grave danger. She reared up on me over the phone and vented her anger and frustration. If that's what I got from her mother, I don't even want to think about what her family is giving her.

Solace, a precious commodity.