Unit 6 The diary of the unknown soldier课文翻译综合教程二
Unit 6 The Diary of the Unknown Soldier
This story is dedicated to all of the unknown soldiers who died while trying to protect the lives of the innocent.
NOVEMBER 24, 1943
1 It has been almost six months since I last saw American soil, my family, or my
home. My heart aches every moment because everywhere I look I see piles of rubble where houses used to stand and lifeless bodies that once moved around with the joy of life inside them. It is as if I have stared into death’s eyes and seen its hatred, i ts coldness. If it would have been some strangers’ corpses that I had seen I might have taken it lighter. But these lifeless heaps are, or used to be, my friends and colleagues.
They all came here with an air of confidence and eagerness, ready to win.1 What fools they were! Couldn’t those men see that what they received was a one-way ticket to death, couldn’t they have opened their eyes! Of course, I was like them, but I have changed my views since the last D-Day, when our regiment was assigned to protect London.
2 Today was rainy and cold, just like any other, when, out of the blue, German fighter
planes bombarded our small, makeshift camp.2 All I could hear were the sounds of bombs exploding, crippling those people in their way. I was suddenly knocked into a trench and able to be undetected by the planes circling overhead.3 I was lucky.
3 When I came to, the Axis planes had gone and the few survivors that were left
began scooping up bodies. I suffered minor head injuries, but the rest of my platoon wasn’t so fortunate. All I can say to describe the aftermath of the explosions is that it was a sea of blood. Right about this time thoughts of suicide entered my head, but I decided that I must go on. I must go on living this nightmare, if not for myself or my country, then for my family back home. I want my children to have a father. My family has been sending me mail, but I have received only a few letters so far. Oh, how
I wish I could see my darling daughters! They are experiencing tough times too, with
the food shortage problems and all. I hope the garden that they planted is growing.
My thoughts drift to my wife now.4She is so dear to me that I can’t stop thinking about her.
4 My job now is plane spotting. It is a civilian’s task, but there ar e no more civilians
left to do it. I must end this entry now because I am too tired to go on writing. All I ask is that I be alive5when this ends. Although I’m not so sure I’ll get my wish.
NOVEMBER 29, 1943
1 I do not remember why I ever came here. Why does war have to be the way
problems are solved? War just creates more problems; something every sensible person knows. I guess that means people like Hitler aren’t sensible. Now my K-rations are running low. My joints are frozen stiff and my ammunition has been used up. Word has it that the Axis powers are sending troops to our location within the month.6 My situation is grim and the odds of winning, or even surviving, seem unlikely. More blood has been shed and my body simply cannot take it.7 When I eat, sleep, and fight I have to stare at cold, lifeless soldiers that look like they were never alive. If I return home I vow to keep these soldiers’ memories alive by telling their families they died bravely in an effort to save their country from turmoil. While that might not provide much to help them cope with their loss, it will make the children feel like their fathers made a difference.8
2 A few days ago my ragtag group of soldiers journeyed to a small European town
that had been untouched by warfare. Still, the townspeople took all of the proper war-time precautions. One night, as I performed my routine watch, I passed a young girl of no more than twelve or thirteen, who was walking home. I couldn’t help thinking about my two daughters when I saw her. I fell apart inside and broke into tears, wondering yet again if I would ever see my family.9 I would give anything to see them, even if it was for five minutes! I am not a man made for war, nor am I an adventurous person. I do not even remember my reason for joining in this madness!
I guess I thought it was something that had to be done. A saying I once heard strikes
a painful note in my head, “Even one war is too many.”10 The person who said it had
a valid point.11 Never have I been so enraged at my fellow man before.12 Humans do
err, but that is no excuse for ending innocent lives and destroying whole countries!13 No one has that right. How can we be so selfish and ignorant as to not care about each other! This thought makes me sicker than when I am staring at heaps of bodies strewn over the tattered soil.
DECEMBER 24, 1943
1 I think we have a spy in our regiment because the nightmare has surfaced again.
Our “secret” location is being invaded by Nazi troops as I write this down. I have hidden myself in a small trench, my last hope for surviving. I wish, with all my soul, that I could be home now, in my own bed, waiting for Christmas morning to come.
The children would be tucked in their beds, and my wife and I would be soundly
asleep in our room. I am struggling to calm myself down, but my face is covered in dirt and sweat, and my head is pounding like mad.14 I am so close to death that I can actually feel its fiery breath engulfing me.15To help keep me from panicking I am thinking of my daught ers’ faces as they open their presents on Christmas Day. The faces are all aglow with delight. I will always remember their faces, wait —I hear footsteps coming in my direction. My rifle is useless since there are no shells in it. If this is my last entry then please, whoever finds this, return it to my family. Oh my God! I can see from my hiding spot that a Nazi soldier is inspecting the trench. It is only a matter of time before he finds me. I have one last question before I die. Why?
Almost nine and a half years after the last diary entry was written a British infantryman found the small journal as he was clearing away wreckage at the doomed battle site. The name of the author is today a mystery and it was not mentioned in the diary. Only the initial R was found in the bottom left-hand corner of the first page. The man, who is dubbed “The Unknown Soldier ,” was never found although we assume he is dead at this time.
一个无名士兵的日记
1943年11月24日
我离开美国，家人已经有6个月了。我的心无时无刻不在疼痛着，因为我眼望所即的
废墟里，曾经是一座座房屋，还有欢天喜地的生命。我好像在凝视着一双充满仇恨与冷漠的死者的眼睛。如果我看到的这些只是陌生人的尸体的话，或许我会好些。但这些堆尸曾是我的同事，朋友。他们来时都充满自信，渴望，准备打胜仗。他们真傻！他们难道不知道这是条不归路吗？他们难道不能睁大眼看么？当然，以前我也一样，自从登陆日那天我们的团被指派去保护伦敦时，我改变了想法。
今天下着雨，寒气逼人，和那天德国战斗机突袭我们的小营地帐篷一样。我能听到的只有炸弹声，一声声断绝了人们的后路。我遇到了一个沟渠从而有幸躲过了头顶盘旋的战斗机。
我出来时，战斗机已经走了。几个幸存的人开始挖尸体。我头部受了轻伤，但是我所在的排不幸遇难。我唯一能用来形容这场爆炸的后果的词只有，血海，一片血海。一时间我想到了自杀，但最后还是决定活下来。我必须度过这场噩梦，不是为我的国家，也不是为我自己，只是为了我能回家。我不能让我的孩子没有父亲。家里人给我寄过信，目前只收到几封。我多想看看我亲爱的女儿！他们也在忍受食物短缺等问题的煎熬。我希望他们花园里种的植物生长良好。我又想到了我的爱妻，我们多亲密，我没办法不想她。
我现在的工作是侦查发现飞机，这本该是平民的工作，但能做的人所剩无几了。我得
停下来了，没力气写下去了。我希望这一切结束后我还活着，虽然不知道会不会成真，但除此之外别无他求了。
1943年11月29日
我不记得为何来这了。为什么要靠战争来解决问题呢？聪明的人都知道战争只会带来更多问题。我猜像希特勒这种人一定很愚蠢。现在我的的K计划在低速运行中。我的关节僵直了，子弹也用光了。传说轴心力量会在一个月内向本地运送军队。我的处境很悲哀，赢或者说活下去的几率几乎为零。血越流越多，身体支撑不住了。无论吃饭睡觉还是在战场上，我都不得不面对一群冷漠的，毫无生机的士兵。如果我还能活着回去，我发誓一定要跟这些士兵的家人讲他们如何在危机中为国家英勇就义的。那样做虽然不能为他们挽回损失，至少会让孩子认识他们的父亲并对父亲的看法有巨大的改变。
几天前，我们部队去了一个还没被战争破坏的欧洲小镇。那里的居民也做了一切跟战争有关的防范措施。一天晚上，我照常进行勘测时，遇到一个12/3岁独自回家的小女孩。看到她我忍不住又想到自己的女儿，心碎了，流泪了。好想知道何时我能再见到我的家人。就算只有五分钟，我也会不顾一切见他们。我不是为战争而生的人，更没有冒险精神。我甚至不记得为何要来参加这场暴乱。我想原本我是以为这是一种职责，我非做不可。我脑子里冒出曾经听说的一句话，任一场战争都是多余的，说这话的人表达的意思很模糊，从前我从未对我所处的人类社会如此气愤。人做错了事，难道就有理由把牺牲无辜生命甚至毁灭整个国家作为代价么？没人有那种权利，我们怎么能那么自私，视彼此生命于不顾。这种想法比起在荒瘠的土地上看到成堆的尸体更让我难受。
1943年，12月24日
我觉得我们部队有间谍，因为噩梦又重演了。我写下这篇日志时，我们的秘密据地正在被纳粹部队侵略。我把自己藏在沟渠里，这是我最后生还的希望。我整个灵魂都希望，我现在能在家里，在我自己的床上，等待着第二天圣诞节的来临。孩子会蜷缩在自己床上，我和妻子也会在自己房间睡得很香。我挣扎着使自己镇静下来，但是我的脸上全是灰尘和汗渍，我的脑袋像涨疯了。我离死神如此之近，我能很真实地感到凶残的呼吸正在包围我。为了避免痛苦，我就想象着女儿第二天早上打开礼物时惊喜的脸，我会一直记得他们的面孔，等一下，我听到有脚步声朝我的方向来了。我步枪没子弹了。如果这是我最后的退路，那么请发现这篇日记的人把它转交给我的家人。哦，老天，从我的据点能看到一个纳粹兵在观察这沟渠。离他发现我只有一点时间了。死之前我想问最后一个问题，这一切到底是为什么？