Carefully, not quite trusting in the idea, Kennet let Nalle be Hook’s brother, too.

He let Hook bleed for him.

And he let it out.

Everything a Father Could

Dear Paps,

I know what you’re doing. You’re looking down at the chain on your neck and thinking Nalle got killed because you didn’t wear it right. You’re thinking the charm didn’t work because you didn’t have all three golden fish on it. You’re thinking about the mornings you put it on late. Or the prayers you forgot to say. Or the words you got out of order. You’re thinking Nalle got killed because you didn’t try hard enough to keep him alive. You’re thinking you chanted, “I wish my sons to come home,” instead of specifically declaring, “I wish my sons to come home alive.”

I know you, Paps. I know you’re doing it. Don’t. Please don’t. There was nothing for it. All these magic things we do to comfort ourselves and make ourselves believe we have control over the world, they have no power. There’s nothing you could’ve done to stop this from happening. Nalle getting killed was nothing you could have prevented. Nothing you did or didn’t do made him die. It’s not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault except the man who shot him.

I want nothing more than to be home right now. I feel helpless. The only thing making me feel better is thinking about Ma. A buddy said you take a train to Heaven, and all your loved ones that have passed meet you at the station. I’m clinging to that image of Ma and Nalle at the station. With Marianne and the Old Bear. And little Beatrice, too. They’re all together. Nothing can hurt Nalle ever ever again, and Ma’s got her baby with her. I’m holding onto this as hard as I can. You hold on, too.

Paps, I love you. You did everything right. You did everything a father could. It’s not your fault, I promise.

I’m doing everything I can to get home soon.

Love and courage from your gullgosse, who misses you awful,

Nyck

The Resurrection and the Life

19 Mar 1945

17 March—marched to Lausonhausen. 18 March we moved to the Moselle River.

Today we crossed the river, moving toward the town of Buchenbemen.

Ran into heavy German fire from a destroyed railroad bridge. We attempted to cross but the Krauts were using 20mm AA guns, which nobody in the unit ever encountered before.

Heavy casualties.

…

Fucking goddammit…

…

We lost Schmitt and Nichols.

We always joked that even death couldn’t part those two bickering brats, and we were right. I saw it all. They were blown off the bridge together, they went flying through the air all tangled up. The medic found them together, still holding onto each other.