Author Archives: John Larkin

April 20th 1945   I fear to write of what just happened but I feel I need to talk of it. The vile feelings that I have witnessed today are all consuming in their intensity. I should best start from the beginning. I was walking down Baker Street near dusk, with a bag of groceries … Continue reading »

April 17th, 1945   I struggle through the rest of the week, finding solace in the fact that I have no family to share my grief with. This would be my burden. My father was dead before I had even spoken a word, my mother died out on one of the cattle ranches, a house … Continue reading »

April 13th, 1945   Today I went back to work at the munitions factory. Two days since my brother’s death in a charge against a stretch of “seemingly undefended” German trenches. I spent most of the day explaining what had happened to friends, both mine, and his. Their reactions ranged from outright woe, to shock, … Continue reading »

April 11th, 1945   I barely remembered what happened today. I got up, had breakfast and fed my dog, Brandy. I was interrupted in my daily routines by a knock on the door. Wondering who would come to the house at such an early time, I opened the door, to be greeted by the solemn, … Continue reading »