Author Ronald Powers

One Man in Ten Million Excerpt

 

That thinking, however, was drawing all of us into a false

sense of security. Even only having come ashore a short

time before, we were already becoming lax and nonchalant

about our previous training and being in a war zone.

On the fourth night of our foxhole initiation, my

attitude toward vigilance and training changed 180 degrees

in a very short period of time. After that night, I would

never again take either for granted and would always be

cognizant that I was in a war zone and I needed to conduct

myself as such.

Around one o’clock in the morning on what would

have been the eleventh day of September, 1944, the weather

began to change, and that night cooled down considerably.

Whether it was the change in temperature or something

altogether different that caused a heavy fog to roll in off

the English Channel, I will never know. What I do know

is that an already inky, dark night had suddenly become

impenetrable to any light.

As I peered over the rim of my foxhole, I was startled

nearly out of my skin. Our company lieutenant was

attempting to make his nightly rounds and just appeared in

my face out of nowhere. He was checking on everyone and

assuring us that we could rest easy that night because no

one could see to move in the dense fog. Even he was falling

into the trap of relaxing too much. At later times during

my stay in Europe, his words would have put me on instant

alert. I learned that night to always expect the unexpected.

After giving me his reassurance, the lieutenant moved

on to the next foxhole in line. He must have been moving

by sheer memory because I could not see two feet in front

of my face, even though my eyes had been adjusting to the