O N E . BY . ONE . the parents were called up to receive the decorations during the memorial service in a hall on the very battlefield where their sons fell. Only muted sobbing could be heard. Their attempts to put on a brave face were as transparent as the naive, improvised decor-that symbolized their loss I tried to remain inconspicuous for I recognized many of the parents and knew that they knew I had been with the unit. Soon would come the inevitable questions: did I, perhaps, happen to have a photograph of their son? Did I manage to record his last living hours?