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I took her down and wrapped her in a sheet. I told the boys I'd found her dead and brought her to the pyre we had built since there wasn't time to bury all the dead. I stood so close to that fire that the smoke was in my face, so no one saw my tears of shame.
The next day, we had a skirmish with some Nazis and a potato masher grenade ripped my balls off. I heard her voice, the curse she laid on me with her last words, and I begged to die because I deserved to go to Hell for what I did to her, but I didn't. I lived and I would be half a man for the rest of my life. Living was the curse, not dying."
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