I thought that I am unfit, not matching, wrong. I thought that. From the beginning of my life. I thought I was a peaceful nature. But they taught me that I'm not, 'cause I am a man. In the past I thought they were wrong. But everyone around agreed with them. All those hundrets of people I stood with on the market-place to watch minister of state Goebbels driving through town... They all had hailed him. If everyone thinks it's right: Can it be wrong? And so I joined them. I didn't want to be different. Because being different kills you in this world I live in.

I've seen them carrying away jews. Nobody knows were they take them to. And we don't wanna know. In a system where speaking up can get you to the gallows... you just stop thinking. Speaking up isn't good. It only affects the efficiency of the community of the Reich.

I am not different. Those who are different are taken away. And as far as I know they never return. I am not different. I LIKE women. I really do. That's what a man is supposed to do, isn't it? I just got to find the right one. I haven't just met her yet. That's it. That MUST be it. That's the reason I've never been attracted to any of the girls around. I just had not found the right one.

I've seen my neighbours as they were carried away. When they forced them to climb that SS-truck. Those sad, desperate faces... But was their own fault. They were jews. And all jews are a threat to the german people and the Reich. I mean: It's true. You can hear it on every radio, read it in every newspaper... Every day. So it's gotta be true. How else could it be? I haven't seen my former best friend in a long time. His name was... IS Israel. I guess his family just moved. Coming to think of it, how could I ever have been friends with someone of that kind. They're evil! That's common knowledge. All the good times and moments we had... It all must have been jewish trickery. Well I mean... He's an Itzik... He deserves to be taken away... - I guess... It must be so. It must be so...

I guess I was lucky that I was chosen to serve under the command of Sturmbannfuehrer Ernst Kupertz. He's a strong leader. A man with a constant determintely look on his face. He always knows wht there is to do, what tactic to use. I'd follow him till I die.

Because I'm a soldier. Isn't that my duty? He's a great leader. He's my role-model... I guess. He's so well built and trained. Those broad shoulders, all those muscles. Back when we stood side by side in the the shower of the barracks I almost got... - No, that was just a coincidence. 'Morning wood' as the guys call it. Things like that happen to any guy. There's nothing wrong with me. I am not different. I am an honorably, accepted member of the Wehrmacht, a german soldier.

I never would have thought I could kill a human being. It's not my nature. But... wrong... I'm a man, I'm a soldier... My nature has to be to kill. That's what the drill seargent said. That's what I do. I killed men... But they deserved it, were asking for it. What would YOU do if somebody jumps in your foxhole with a rifle, ready to kill you? I just realized that I had that spade on my belt. Everyone of us has one. Standard equipment, sharpened. I don't know what happended in that moment. I just knew I wanted to live. So I grabbed that spade and... Well... - Do you know what the eyes of a dead look like? A man you've killed? They make you shiver, burn themselves into your memory forever... And you'll never forget them.

I remember him. He was a frenchman. He lived on for some seconds and I knelt beneath him, unable to handle mentally what I just had done. He held the bleeding wound on his neck, and he spoke german. He regurgitated and managed to get out a "W... Warum tun wir das?", "Why do we do this?". Then he passed away. Dead glassy eyes... Those accusing eyes looking at me... I never learned were he learned to speak german. And I guess I never will. Maybe he had been a teacher or something like that before the war... I try not to think to much about it... - And I wished he never would have spoken german to me...

But it gets easier. Way to easy for my taste. Even for me... But I'm still alive, in this damned concrete-bunker with the finger on the trigger of my MG-42 machine gun. I named mine 'Ursel', after my sister, who always had been my dearest friend through all my life. Of course I told my comrades that it would be the name of my girlfriend. That's what they all do. And I don't want to be different. I AM not. I just haven't found the right girl till now.

Ursula... She is at home now. 'Hope she's O.k. ... alive. I heard the damned allies have bombed Dresden. Via the radios frequencies the brits and french constantly send propaganda. According to those, Dresden was bombed... burned down for good. Our commanders tell us that it was just an uncoordinated futile attack, only leaving minor damage. - Whom to believe? The only blessing is that I mostly just don't have the time to think to much about it.

I don't know if you will, if you can understand this. You somehow stop thinking when bullets keep flying all around you through the air, when friends and comrades are dying one by one, more and more of them. Day after day. People arrive, appear. Next day they might be dead. I still wear the dog tag of my best pal Hans tied into my bootstraps.

He had been my loader, a good one. You learn fast if your life depends on it. It had been our advantage that our weapon is superior to those of our enemies. Beltfed against magazinefed. German engineering. And unjust competition. And they know it. I can feel it, see it right now, as I look down on that beach in front of mine. They're coming. Thousands of them. Even tanks are swimming towards the shore. Christ! They're swimming I tell you... But they're easy to sink... Just hit the air-packs...

The trigger finger of my right hand is already raw. It even bleeds a little as I aim for another landing boat of theirs.

-clic-

My loader Klaus just nods. The overheated barrel is changed, the weapon reloaded and ready to fire. - We have barely spoken a word for hours. There is no time for the usual talk, the commands and advisories. We just try to function. For they are here to kill us. And I don't want to die. I'm young. I want to live. So I shoot again. Automatically... accurately... without any mercy...

In the Wehrmacht they call my weapon "Hitlersaege", "Hitler's buzzsaw". Shooting down on the beach I know why that is. But it's nothing special to me. The bullets just rain down as usual, cutting a line through the enemy. 1600 rounds per minute. Ripping flesh, breaking bones, erasing lifes. I don't know the meaning of the word mercy anymore. Those men are here to kill me... and Ursula, and my mother.

I'm driven no more by my rational thinking. I just try to survive. Even if I would try to surrender now, either my own comrades or them would without any doubt kill me. The Fuehrer has given order to kill every deserter. And for those 'Amis' down there: I must have already killed hundrets of them. And I still do. They'll be pissed. They would show no mercy to me either. I know that. If I was in their shoes I wouldn't. So I just keep shooting.

In my right canthus the cartridge cases do their deadly dance. Guy with the glasses: Down. Big guy's helmet got's blown away by my bullets, his face just... it's not there anymore. My mind is not able to handle the situation I guess. It's all to much for me. I'm blank, not feeling a thing. I'm just functioning as I had learned to over the last four years.

The blast is so loud that it impacts my ears. I can't hear a thing anymore. Except of this loud screaming ringing. I instinctively turn around, firing off my weapon towards the entrance. That'll keep them away. At least for some seconds. And even seconds right now seem more worthy to me than pure gold. - 'Just stay away! I want to live!'

A metallic clang at my feet makes me looking down. 'A grenade!'

"Deckung!", "Fire in the hole!" I shout. I hastly kneel down, grabbing that thing, knowing I have to throw it out of the bunker before...

I can't see....

It's all black to me...

And I can't move...

God, I can't even breathe...

Gotta... I've got to...

Ursel...

Mother...

I have to... get up...

I...

I...

...

..

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