We woke up very early, only getting maybe five hours of sleep. Despite this, it was quite nice. We began to throw an even bigger celebration than the night prior. Maria saw me in the small crowd of boys when we got there. She dragged me away from them and brought me to someone I had never met before.

  "Mom? Dad? This is him," she told a married couple with her hand on my shoulder. I tensed in a way that I learned how to do in the French Army. It was still my reaction, just suppressed in such a way that it looked like I was straightening to take charge. I was quite proud of myself for learning that back then.

  The man smiled at me, "It is nice to meet you, Felix. Oh! You are the medic of your people. Even better. It really is nice to meet you. Please make my daughter happy."

  I nodded at him, "Of course. I will try my hardest."

  We continued to celebrate throughout the day. There was Carol's, music, and lots of food. In the middle of all of this, one of the people I recognized as the village's doctors came up to me.

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  "Can I see you for a moment?" he asked me. I nodded and went with him, but Maria was still practically attached to me.

  "Do you really want her to see this, Felix?" he asked me. I didn't understand why he had said this at the time, but I did not care. I told him that it would be more than fine.

  Then I understood when he brought me to see Henry. He had fallen so deathly ill because of his infection that they were afraid that they couldn't treat him any longer with the instructions I had given them. They didn't want to bother anyone in the village with Henry yesterday, so they waited to see if the infection would heal by applying more. It indeed did not. Henry died today in the early morning hours of a former wound caused by the accident when we first arrived to this warm place. The rest of the was spent celebrating, trying to keep the information away from the boys. I will have to tell them later tonight. I am afraid I cannot continue writing, or my ink will soon begin to get tear-stained. Another man gone, to what avail? What have we done to make his death needed? Nothing. Nothing at all.

  Maria is currently comforting me, watching me write. She tells me I worry too much and that I need to calm my nerves. Focusing on the errors of time with my writings is very unhealthy for me. However, she did compliment my handwriting, to which I am thankful for. I have decided that I love her. What more can I do in the unforgiving world?