Euthanasia

War Journal, Battle Of El Alamain, October,1942

26/10/1942
Alex is dead. Even as I write this I can feel the lump rising in my throat. I can’t pinpoint the length of time since I held him, since his life ended in my arms. It could have been hours, minutes. I should have saved him. I carried him back to the trenches, all my senses failing except the burden of his terrible weight. I could have saved him, I only needed a little more time. Those bloody Germans, it’s their fault Alex is dead. I hate them. I tried to save him. It’s not my fault.

27/10/1942
Covering the events of this war has been my occupation for the past two years and I’ve been at this decisive battle of El Alamain for three days. The battle is on schedule, running as planned and to our advantage. That is what I’m supposed to be reporting, however, I’m beginning to think otherwise. The allied forces have had large numbers of casualties and my fellow correspondent, Alex Dangerfield, is dead. He was a goo...