Nathan Spoke To Me

Erasure of memory is as deadly as murder itself.

The calm quiet of these concentration camps that we were liberating did nothing but intensify the smell of death throughout the place. It was evident from what remained of the sprawling warehouses and adjoining complexes that this was once an efficiently run Henry Ford style production plant. Except instead of employees, this company, if you could even call it that, relied on slave labor. Instead of cars, the end product was death.

Bodies were stacked up near the crematorium not for the dignified preparation of passing on that you and I would expect from one decent human being to another but rather these were the scattered remains of a product that had now become evidence.

I did everything in my power to keep it together as the Lieutenant of this outfit. My right hand soldier Sgt. Adams performed courageously along with the rest of my squad against the Wehrmacht and now was not the time for me to lose it. My men, the few who were left, needed my leadership.

Then I lost it. A girl half naked in ragged prison wear came directly to me stared at my name on my uniform and said, “papa” and pointed at a pile of dead bodies. She had meandered through the throngs of other soldiers perhaps because I was one of the few white faces there in that moment. She saw my name, Cohen, and perhaps this gave her some comfort amongst all this disorder and death.

I covered my eyes. I pretended they were hurting. The little girl reached for my hand. Adams took the girls hand and introduced himself.

The girl looked at Adams the way frightened children look at the shape of whatever story adults have taught them to fear. Not the man. Not the soldier. The story. The lie wearing his skin.

Then she asked, “Monster?”

“No.” Adams smiled and pointed at me. “Brothers, Americans”

“Brother?”

I saw Adams cover his eyes.

It was in that moment that I knew.

By the way, my name is Nathan Cohen. To you I’m a fictional character but to Xplisset I’m as real and dare I say even more real than the people he interacts with on a daily basis. Yeah, in his novel, War After War: The Big Payback, he’s got me playing the role of a Works Progress Administration agent assigned to the Federal Writers’ Project and tasked with retrieving and preserving the memories of our last remaining Civil War veterans before they exit to the eternal resting places. Of course, he had to do what writers always try and do and a lot of times fail which is make it interesting for you to read so he gave me an asshole for a partner.

His name is not even worthy of mention here just know that he and I see what you all in 2026 call The Civil War very differently. To him it was a War of Northern Aggression. To me it was a War of The Rebellion. Oh and not to brag but I have a Bachelor’s Degree in History and I came within a hair of getting expelled for my senior thesis title:

Motherfuck That Bastard William Dunning: He Can And Should Go To Hell

I’ll admit that I did indulge in a little too much whiskey at the time I conceived that title but my premise stands firm as the bedrock foundation this country was founded on.

Erasure of memory is as deadly as murder itself.

That moment I described earlier as I served as an Army officer is me trying to convince Xplisset to open his novel with it. That way, like a Jack Johnson 1 - 2 punch we can immediately transition to the Ebenezer Creek Massacre.

Oh and Xplisset don’t you say a goddamn thing. A man’s word is his bond.