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HISTORIAS                    Manuel Espejo

Lili Marleen

When the war finally came to an end, we soldiers returned to our homes, carrying heavy hearts. The prevailing sentiment among most of us was one of profound sadness, for we had been on the losing side of the conflict. Yet, I, unlike my comrades, did not find myself sinking into the depths of despair. The truth was, I had never truly understood what we were fighting for. Of course, this was a sentiment I could never voice among my fellow soldiers, and so I kept it locked away within the recesses of my mind. Fear and trepidation were our constant companions on the frontlines, where the trenches bore witness to unspeakable horrors and the lives of many brave men were cut short. But, amidst all this, the gravest sin a soldier could commit was that of defeatism, a cowardly act that carried dire consequences. We had all been indoctrinated with the notion that we were fighting for the glory of our nation. How could I, then, admit that I did not even know the purpose of our struggle? Such words could have easily led me before a firing squad.

The day I bid farewell to my comrades at the front was a day that left an indelible mark upon my soul. It felt as if something had been forcibly torn from the very core of my being. We had weathered countless trials and tribulations together, sharing laughter and tears, and, in many instances, saving each other's lives. Names like Christian, Richard, Max, Oliver, the other Oliver, Karl, and so many others echoed in my memory. These were the faces of those who would never return to their homes. I often found myself wondering about their fates. Where were they now? In the end, they handed me a small sum of marks and sent me on my way. My family and I had been out of touch for months, and it seemed that the postal service had prioritized the transportation of weapons, soldiers, and supplies over letters. I surmised that my letters had never reached their intended destinations.

The prospect of reuniting with my parents and my sister, Heike, filled me with both hope and trepidation. What had become of them during my absence? My sister, who was a mere seventeen when I left, must have blossomed into a young woman by now, given that four long years had transpired since my departure. For the past two years, I had been stationed in the same trench, where nearly half of those who had initially embarked on this war had met their untimely end. Perhaps, in comparison, I was fortunate to have visited the infirmary so infrequently. Many others, unfortunately, would never have the chance to recount their stories as I am doing now.

Upon my return, my mother stood there, waiting for me, fully aware that the soldiers were being sent home. My family had been anxiously hoping for my safe return, as they had received no word from me in months. The army was often sluggish in relaying information about casualties on the frontlines. We were all overjoyed to see each other once more. My mother, my father, my sister—they were all in good health. Everything appeared to be exactly as it had been when I had left. My street, too, seemed largely untouched by the ravages of war.

Without delay, I set out to find Lili, who lived adjacent to the barracks. Her father held the rank of colonel, and in my darkest moments on the frontlines, she had been my lifeline. Just a couple of months ago, when a shell had exploded perilously close, almost claiming my life, it was her face that had occupied my thoughts as I teetered on the brink of unconsciousness. We had become engaged a few weeks before the war erupted, and in the months that followed, we had exchanged dozens of heartfelt letters. But for the past several months, her letters had ceased to arrive.

As I neared her street and witnessed the devastation that had befallen it, my heart contracted with dread. The barracks had been obliterated, reduced to mere remnants of a once-imposing structure. Only the remnants of the grand entrance gate remained, alongside a solitary lantern, bearing mute testament to what had transpired. However, Lili's house was conspicuously absent. Overwhelmed by grief, I broke down and wept, my tears flowing like a child's. It was then that the unthinkable dawned on me—my nation had indeed lost the war, but far more tragically, I had lost Lili.

Lili Marleen

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