Personal Narrative-If I Were Here On The Front

I have loved you all, and have constantly missed you during my time here on the front lines. I think of you, my lovely wife, for all my free time, and what our life could have been like if this damned “Great War” hadn’t happened. My most beloved children, forgive this old “Kat,” (see what I did there?) I had to miss all the birthdays, holidays, celebrations, and quality time, all to serve the Fatherland. Know that I did all this for you, my family. If I never come back, the only regret would be if I never saw you grow up my children, and that I could never spend that time enjoying you, my love. I must tell you though, I had another family here on the front lines. They were the boys that I was given to train, and turn them from boys, into men.

I was to help them to live for as long they could, and try to make it out of the war with them and myself unscathed.

In the front lines here in Western Germany, France, and Belgium, it’s all about defending the Fatherland, watching for artillery attacks, trying to stay alive and low, and making sure to run from any grenades, and most importantly, help save those that you can. The only people in the world I love more than each and every one of these boys, is you, my family. I feel so defeated when one of these young men die. The first to go was Albert, with an infected leg. I hope that if God claims these boys, he does it quickly and painlessly. I hope to set an example for them, and for you, on the subjects of honor and duty. I hope that if you, my family, ever had to go into war, that someone would take care of you as I’ve taken care of these boys, my second family, my frontlines family. They alone have seen me at my worst, and still follow me, look up to me as I hope you, my family do. I pray that you never see what I have seen, these horrors of war, the killing, explosions, dismembered boys, young men, old men, all lying on the fields, eaten by rats, disease, infection, infestation, the absolute worst conditions of all

humanity. I pray that if I never come home, that you will always remember me, what I’ve taught you, and always remember that I will always love you. Never forget that your first duty is to God, then your country, then you ruler, be he President, King, or Kaiser. Be good my children, I’m sorry I could not leave you more, you deserve to be more than a cobbler’s children. My wife, forgive me for leaving you, I pray that you keep me in your heart, and forgive me for leaving you.

With love and little regret;
Stanislaus Katczinsky, father, and husband