That last winter was a tragic story and I got no personal honour out of it but I was a witness to it.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
I remember three- and four-week-long snow days, and drifts so deep a small child, namely me, could get lost in them. No such winter exists in the record, but that's how Ohio winters seemed to me when I was little - silent, silver, endless, and dreamy.
I never made a daring rescue, which is the story people want to hear. I did go to my share of fires.
I have decorated soldiers for heroism before, and it was always such an honor to do it.
This crowd did not diminish through the whole of that cold, wet day; they seemed not to know what was to by their fate since their great benefactor was dead, and though strong and brave men wept when I met them.
I decided to devote my life to telling the story because I felt that having survived I owe something to the dead. and anyone who does not remember betrays them again.
Not so cold, some snow fell. I went inside the log cabin and said goodbye to Mother, she was so alike grandmother, just younger.
I've never gotten used to winter and never will.
Personally, it was a big honor for me meeting so many families of the fallen soldiers and hearing their stories.
In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.
My friend, I am going to tell you the story of my life, as you wish; and if it were only the story of my life I think I would not tell it; for what is one man that he should make much of his winters, even when they bend him like a heavy snow?