He talked freely about his experiences and about comrades who had been killed, but when I asked him about his own kills he stated that usually you couldn’t be sure who it was that did the killing. Then tears welled up in Paul’s eyes, and after a long pause he said, “But the one time I was sure…” and then his sentence was stopped by a little sob, and pain racked the face of this old gentleman. “It still hurts, after all these years?” I asked in wonder. “Yes,” he said, “after all these years.” And he would not speak of it again.
