That was during the hour that I was the most confused and mixed the real deaths of the soldiers with that of an imaginary private. He died in a story about WWI. Thirty-six years have passed since I stood in that darkness, which was mitigated by an outside light. Tonight, I remember the silence I shared with the dead. I rise and face my life for no other reason than I was young once like those I stood guard over, and for them who died for God knows what, I wish to give back the year 1971 along with the clouds, the rain, and the dampness, soaking my boots. I give them the one, outside light that kept me from total darkness. And to history, I give back that awful silence, draping the dead. It was like the silence in the novel written by a German