Remembering my name was the least of my worries. For all of my recollections seemed to be fragmented, and all I could feel was the vague familiarity of this place, as if I had been here a thousand times before. As if, perhaps the only thing I could ever live to see was the dreadful moon that hung still above the misty forest, and all I could live to hear was our bitter footsteps and the harsh German of the soldiers that paraded us. We reached a clearing; the captain lined us up. The scent of death filled my lungs, accompanied by that of dirt and rain. The metallic click of his Luger rang out like needles in our ears and slowly, each of us fell like dominos. The captain moved down the row with conviction and his weapon shouted deafeningly as he murdered each of us. Scalding hot casings leapt into the air, and deserted bodies fell, one by one. Years seemed to pass, and finally, I was looking down his smoking barrel. Just before the bullet found me, I stared deep into his eyes. With a surge of bittersweet terror, I found a single memory. I recognized this face, for it was mine, years ago. I watched helplessly from the other side of eternity as my gloved hand squeezed the trigger, and I plunged into the dark soil again, just like the ones I killed eons ago. They died once, but for me, the dreary moon will always hang, and I will always march down the path of damnation.