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They carried all they could bear, and then some, including a silent awe for the terrible power of the things they carried.
They shared the weight of memory. They took up what others could no longer bear. Often, they carried each other, the wounded or weak.
They carried the soldier’s greatest fear, which was the fear of blushing. Men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to. It was what had brought them to the war in the first place, nothing positive, no dreams of glory or honor, just to avoid the blush of dishonor. They died so as not to die of embarrassment.
A true war story is never moral. It does not instruct, nor encourage virtue, nor suggest models of proper human behavior, nor restrain men from doing the things men have always done.
