My aunt unearthed a treasure this summer: Dusty's World War II diary. He recorded his days in pen and ink over several years of fighting in north Africa and Italy, tiny cramped entries, sometimes terse--no change, no mail--sometimes a page-long eloquent consideration, about feeling sorry for a dead German lying on the side of an Italian road (American soldiers were forbidden to touch dead bodies for fear of booby traps) or his delight at seeing the magnificence of Rome. He was honest about his fears, wishing he wasn't quite so close to the front but at the same time proud to be a part of the war effort and history. I've been transcribing the journal and posting online for the family to read and what a gift it is. What a treasure! Dusty in his own words--scared, dirty, hard-working, protective, marveling, and pining for Marge back at home.*
This by xTx, on anonymity and honesty. And this, about creativity and failure.
No comments:
Post a Comment