From Krebs to Helen
You better be reading this Helen,
This letter is not a lie, it is the bloody truth. Lies are the only way I can be accepted in this world. Gaining recognition for my military service required lying. Not hurting Mom required lying too. Why did I lie? Because I would have been perceived as a coward for owning up to the truth. These lies are unimportant lies and these lies force me to attribute myself the lying stories of other servicemen. Other soldiers lie to have thrilling stories of fighting against those Krauts, but they have nothing. I try to tell the truth but I end up lying, so I have nothing too. Lying isn't wrong because it is morally wrong. Krebs can only be as healthy as the lies he tells. Krebs is ill.
You're the only one who views me as a hero. Dad was uncommitted and mom's attention would have wandered to those emotional fairy tales. This is not a fairy tale. This is war. This is pain. Looking at the girls in town is nice. Looking at their hair is nice. Looking at their body is nice. But I do not see them. I can only get a girl through lying but I do not want to lie
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I am not going to Paris for you, I'm going to Paris to be immerse myself in unrealistic war. The French government had been selling and advertising war to young men and I'm forced to buy it. I may have left war, but war strictly cannot leave me. The rise of a new European culture is occurring in Paris; the alcohol, jazz, the alcohol and the alcohol will bloody wake me up and make me more aware of who I am. I am also going to Paris to see the girls, but I can only see their physical appearance and not the girls. I'm going to Paris to write, but not to write about you. I will be writing about war and the meaning of life. I cannot remain honest if I stay where we are, Krebs cannot be Krebs when he has to lie. If mom is going to force Krebs to lie, Krebs cannot be honest in his writing. Krebs is not mom's son