It was a cold winter evening, me and my childhood best friend Harry were stationed in the beautiful countryside of Lille, France. There was a slight frost on the grass and in the trenches. The cold wind whistled through my hair. The war had been going on for years now and our time had come. Harry and I finally got drafted to the French Army. My mother and father were paralyzed with fear and worry when they found out that I was drafted. I had mixed feelings about the war, some fear but I also felt a great deal of patriotism being able to go and defend my countries from the evils of Adolf Hitler and the Nazis. Anyways, going back to that frigid evening in December, it was my turn to keep watch in my group's section of the trenches. My platoon was split up into five groups. I was put into the “Northern” group. My group consisted of Harry, some other men, and I. I am really glad that I was able to be with Harry at this time because without him I would probably be six feet under in Paris. I was about 2 hours into my shift on the night watch when I heard an explosion. It sounded about 2 miles away so I wasn’t concerned. Then, I heard another one but closer. All of a sudden, I hear the sound of a mortar shoot out. I heard it whistle through the night and heard it thud against the damp ground. I saw a bright flash and dirt and shrapnel went everywhere. I heard it slice through some of the men I was supposed to watch over and the trench had collapsed over me and whoever else was alive.

   Growing up I believe I had a good childhood. But mother and father had stable jobs and always did what they could to entertain me and my younger brother. I was born in Lyon, France on September 1, 1920 to a loving family. My parents named me Grant after my great grandpa, Grant Bordeaux. I was always short as a kid and I was definitely heavily bullied for it. I stood about 5’1 going into my first year of high school. I never had a ton of friends in school until about halfway through the semester when my algebra teacher announced there would be a new student joining us from Angers, France. His name was Harry Versallies, he had hazel eyes and brown hair and was about 5 '8 which still wasn’t super tall but tall enough to stand up for me. He sat in the empty desk next to mine and we hit it off instantly. Harry was not a math scholar to say the least so I always helped him out with his school work. He didn’t bully me for my height and I appreciated that of course. We continued through high school as best friends. We went to sporting events and school dances together and we were always hanging out after school and on the weekends. We were attached at the hip and continued to be for most of our lives. 

   I had never heard of Adolf Hitler leading up to the war. I knew there was an uprising in Germany but I never thought much of it. That was until they invaded Poland, then another country, then another, eventually the world was at war. Once the Nazis invaded my homeland I signed up for the army but was rejected because of my height. Harry never thought of joining the army, he wanted to stay away from war as much as he could. But he could not avoid it forever, as France held a mandatory draft for men 18 and older. Harry and I had to register or we would be thrown in jail. After the first couple years of the war Harry and I were able to avoid being drafted into the war. We both worked at a car factory that turned into a factory for weapons and military vehicles. I specialized in welding for the military vehicles and Harry was the assistant supervisor for the weapons department. We both made good money and hoped to put it to good use after the war was over. About 3 years into the war I received a dreaded letter from the French Army. My mother carefully opened the envelope and pulled out a sheet of paper stating that I had been drafted to the army. My mother collapsed to the floor in tears. I ran to her side and reassured her that everything will be okay and I will return home safe. Harry received a similar letter stating that he had also been drafted. I was thankful that I could have my best friend by my side as we fought the evils of the world. 

   Our first assignment to our platoon was to go to Lille, France and reclaim the city. After a very hard fought battle, we pushed the Germans out and secured a front line just 3 miles outside the city of Lille. The first night after the victory was when disaster struck and the mortar came into our trenches on the northside of the front line. 

   Shortly after the explosion I regained consciousness and began to dig myself out of the mound of dirt my body was trapped in. When I got out my face was covered in blood and dirt. I walked around the remains of the trenches searching for my group. I had unfortunately seen the bodies of my men in the group, limp and cold. I had never experienced the death of a fellow comrade that was so close to me. I could hear a faint voice calling my name. I recognized that was the voice of my friend, Harry. I rushed to the voice and started digging. I was so glad to find him and that I had someone to be with while I figured out what the next steps were. Harry and I collected the dog tags of the men that had fallen before us. After a while of debating the next steps we concluded that we obviously needed to find the rest of our platoon. We also decided that the best way to do this was to go through the underground tunnels the Germans had built. 

   We saw a wooden hatch that led to some stairs. The Germans built these tunnels so they could be shielded by the Earth and to have safer places to sleep and eat. They were very complex and were booby trapped. With one wrong step I could lose my leg or my life. It felt like Harry and I were walking for hours when we reached a spot in the tunnel where light was beaming through. We rushed for it and found that it was just a lantern that had been lit. But that means someone had to be down here. As we continued down the tunnels we peaked our heads out and looked at our surroundings and found that we were headed in the right direction but had to be careful because one wrong turn and we would be in German territory. Just about a mile from our preferred destination we heard chatter. Unfortunately, we knew it wasn’t our native tongue, French. It was that filthy, disgusting German language. We must have taken a wrong turn but we couldn’t go back now. We tried sneaking around the sleeping quarters and we got through somehow. I for sure thought we were done for. We slowly crept through the German territory making sure not to make a noise. We had been down in these underground tunnels for so long we thought we would never get out. As we entered a new tunnel a German who had heard us after I stepped on what seemed to be a branch, jumped from a hole in the tunnel and started strangling me. After a bit of a struggle, Harry jumped on his back and pulled him off of me but Harry got stabbed in the neck. I pulled out my nine millimeter pistol and shot the German, he was dead. I rushed over to Harry and he started to bleed out. Tears started filling my eyes as I ripped part of my sleeve off and tried to stop the bleeding. Harry told me to get out of there, we had made too much noise but I couldn't. I was frozen, until Harry pushed me off of him and he said to let him die and go on without him. He said that it was his wish. So I felt helpless as the man who helped me out so much throughout my life took his last breath. I tried not breaking down into tears so I snatched his dog tag and his bandana he always wore on his head and ran. 

   About 20 minutes later I found my platoon. I was shocked to have made it. I wish I could have made it with Harry. I explained to my sergeant what happened and he apologized for the losses I endured. I have never been the same since Harry passed. I was able to get married and have children of my own. I ended up falling in love with one of Harry’s cousins, Martha. I noticed her at Harry’s funeral, I could tell she was grieving and so was I. I always carried Harry’s bandana with me, it was a good luck charm sort of. I often visited his grave back home in Lyon, always making sure the headstone looked good and the flowers were alive. I wonder how life would be if my best friend was still here. We would tell tales about the war and how we defended our lovely country. Once the death of Adolf Hitler was announced I celebrated at Harry grave with a beer. I spoke out loud like he was still here and was telling him that the man we hated the most was dead and that he can now be at peace.