27th of June, 1944
It’s war. Again.
I made it to France as an assistant to a war photographer. His real name is Endre, but he insists that everyone calls him Robert. He's Hungarian, and such a character. Our shared adventures deserve their own chapter entirely after I have the chance to retreat again. Robert and I met in Paris and we just clicked immediately. Soon after we travelled to Spain to immortalize the Spanish Civil War. It didn't take long for me to notice what Robert and many of his colleagues had in common: The complete lack of self-preservation. He always wants to be where the action is: right in the battlefront.
While I was enjoying my single malt in a nice pub in London, Robert stormed in announcing that he had managed to get us permits to take part in a huge military mission.
The allied forces were finally landing in France. The thought of me being shot and bombarded in the first wave of attack was absolutely mad, and I immediately declined. I was certain that my luck could not save me from that experience.
A few days passed. After quite a lot of drinks and convincing from Robert, I found myself on the shores of Normandy, lying as flat as I could and hoping no German bullet, grenade or shrapnel would get me.
To our misfortune we ended up in Omaha beach, where all the enemy's plans fell apart and the resistance was at its heaviest.
Normandy action as interpreted by Nalle Mielonen
Once the sand settled, we found ourselves miraculously alive. Robert sent the footage to London to Life magazine. We later discovered that they had somehow managed to ruin most of the films. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
I then chose to stay in Bayeux, where the press camp was located, while Robert went to London to deliver the new footage himself.
In Bayeux I met reporters who told me what the Nazis had done with many invaluable art pieces all over Europe. I was filled with rage, and swore to do anything it takes to save and preserve as much art as possible from becoming spoils of war.
Some weeks had passed since the Great Landing, and Robert and I were taking photos during the liberation of a small French village. There was an American lieutenant who was of my likeness in height and weight. We shared enough of his background with me, and what his team's mission was. So, after watching a German shell hit and utterly demolish the fortified farmhouse where the Americans were, I found the opportunity to reinvent myself yet again. Once the battle settled, I ran to the ruins. The whole team was predictably deceased, the lieutenant included. I took his wallet and ID tag. His life shall carry on through me.
The lost farmhouse, as interpreted by Nalle Mielonen.
I gave Robert my goodbyes. I changed scenery, laid low for a while, and voilà! I was now an allied soldier, missing in action, who has returned from the hands of the enemy.
Next I will form a small but effective team of soldiers, and head off to save as much art as we can from the Nazi bastards.
Publisher’s Note: This will be this year’s last Log Entry! A massive thank you to those who have followed the story so far. Stay tuned xoxo
Thank you to Nalle Mielonen for his illustrations! Discover more Nalle at www.nallemielonen.com