Notebook — Namur
I knew our trade exposes us to death, and I have always accepted that truth, for it lets a man go forward without looking back.
But today, holding Jean-Louis, I understood that habit erases nothing: it only defers the pain until the moment it can no longer be contained.
He entrusted a living soul to me at the moment of his death, as though war, for once, were bound to give something back.
I did not hesitate to promise, and I measure now the weight of that word, for shaping a man costs more than losing one.
I shall go on commanding, foreseeing, holding fast, because that is what I know how to do.
But from this day on, every decision will also carry the face of the man who asked me not to let a boy become a machine.
There are deaths that fit into no report.
This one will stay with me.
