Unit 6 The Diary of the Unknown SoldierThis story is dedicated to all of the unknown soldiers who died while trying to protect the lives of the innocent.NOVEMBER 24, 19431 It has been almost six months since I last saw American soil, my family, ormy home. My heart aches every moment because everywhere I look I see piles of rubble where houses used to stand and lifeless bodies that once moved around with the joy of life inside them. It is as if I have stared into death’s eyes and seen its hatred, i ts coldness. If it would have been some strangers’ corpses that I had seen I might have taken it lighter. But these lifeless heaps are, or used to be, my friends and colleagues. They all came here with an air of confidence and eagerness, ready to What foo ls they were! Couldn’t those men see that what they received was a one-way ticket to death, couldn’t they have opened their eyes! Of course, I was like them, but I have changed my views since the last D-Day, when our regiment was assigned to protect London.2 Today was rainy and cold, just like any other, when, out of the blue, Germanfighter planes bombarded our small, makeshift All I could hear were the sounds of bombs exploding, crippling those people in their way. I was suddenly knocked into a trench and able to be undetected by the planes circling I was lucky.3 When I came to, the Axis planes had gone and the few survivors that were leftbegan scooping up bodies. I suffered minor head injuries, but the rest of my platoon wasn’t so fortunate. All I can say to describe the aftermath of the explosions is that it was a sea of blood. Right about this time thoughts of suicide entered my head, but I decided that I must go on. I must go on living this nightmare, if not for myself or my country, then for my family back home.I want my children to have a father. My family has been sending me mail, butI have received only a few letters so far. Oh, how I wish I could see my darlingdaughters! They are experiencing tough times too, with the food shortage problems and all. I hope the garden that they planted is growing. My thoughts drift to my wife She is so dear to me that I can’t stop thinking about her.4 My job now is plane spotting. It is a civilian’s task, but there are no morecivilians left to do it. I must end this entry now because I am too tired to go on writing. All I ask is that I be alive5when this ends. Although I’m not so sure I’ll get my wish.NOVEMBER 29, 19431 I do not remember why I ever came here. Why does war have to be the way problemsare solved War just creates more problems; something every sensible person knows.I guess that means people like Hitler aren’t sensible. Now my K-rations arerunning low. My joints are frozen stiff and my ammunition has been used up. Word has it that the Axis powers are sending troops to our location within the My situation is grim and the odds of winning, or even surviving, seem unlikely.More blood has been shed and my body simply cannot take When I eat, sleep, and fight I have to stare at cold, lifeless soldiers that look like they were never alive. If I return home I vow to keep these soldiers’ memories alive by telling their families they died bravely in an effort to save their country from turmoil.While that might not provide much to help them cope with their loss, it will make the children feel like their fathers made a2 A few days ago my ragtag group of soldiers journeyed to a small European townthat had been untouched by warfare. Still, the townspeople took all of the proper war-time precautions. One night, as I performed my routine watch, I passed a young girl of no more than twelve or thirteen, who was walking home. I couldn’t help thinking about my two daughters when I saw her. I fell apart inside and broke into tears, wondering yet again if I would ever see my I would give anything to see them, even if it was for five minutes! I am not a man made for war, nor am I an adventurous person. I do not even remember my reason for joining in this madness! I guess I thought it was something that had to be done. A sayingI once heard strikes a painful note in my head, “Even one war is too many.”10The person who said it had a valid Never have I been so enraged at my fellow man Humans do err, but that is no excuse for ending innocent lives and destroying whole countries!13 No one has that right. How can we be so selfish and ignorant as to not care about each other! This thought makes me sicker than when I am staring at heaps of bodies strewn over the tattered soil.DECEMBER 24, 19431 I think we have a spy in our regiment because the nightmare has surfaced again.Our “secret” location is being invaded by Nazi troops as I write this down.I have hidden myself in a small trench, my last hope for surviving. I wish, withall my soul, that I could be home now, in my own bed, waiting for Christmas morningto come. The children would be tucked in their beds, and my wife and I would be soundly asleep in our room. I am struggling to calm myself down, but my face is covered in dirt and sweat, and my head is pounding like I am so close to death that I can actually feel its fiery breath engulfing To help keep me from panicking I am thinking of my daughters’ faces as they open their presents on Christmas Day. The faces are all aglow with delight. I will always remember their faces, wait —I hear footsteps coming in my direction. My rifle is useless since there are no shells in it. If this is my last entry then please, whoever finds this, return it to my family. Oh my God! I can see from my hiding spot that a Nazi soldier is inspecting the trench. It is only a matter of time before he finds me. I have one last question before I die. WhyAlmost nine and a half years after the last diary entry was written a British infantryman found the small journal as he was clearing away wreckage at the doomed battle site. The name of the author is today a mystery and it was not mentioned in the diary. Only the initial R was found in the bottom left-hand corner of the first page. The man, who is dubbed “The Unknown Soldier ,” was never found although we assume he is dead at this time.一个无名士兵的日记1943年11月24日我离开美国，家人已经有6个月了。