Stanislaus 'Kat' Katczinsky

My name is Stanislaus Katczinsky.  Everyone calls me Kat. I am 40 years old and by far the oldest in our little group.  Why they've brought a bunch kids here, only 19 years of age, I don't know.  I take them under my wing since they haven't a clue what they are getting into.  Many times I must go and gather things for us to live off of.  They all find it quite amazing how I can get just about anything we need, even from a place that looks like there's nothing. It's hard seeing the affects this war has caused on these boys. They are changing. The war would change anyone. It's getting very tiring. We have good days and bad, but each time we go out we come back with less and less. Paul has been the closest to me. It's not as lonely when you have someone to talk to. And while he gives me company, I teach him survival techniques.  He'll need this to continue through war and at home, if he makes it out.  I'll do what I can to help him through. We are under attack again, bullets and shrapnel flying.  I feel pieces hit my legs and something to the back of my head.  I fall in pain, realizing my shins are tore up. Paul the brave man that he is now. picks me up. I'm in so much pain. He wants to bring me to the triage area. I know I won't make it though.  The pain in my head is getting worse and I feel something dripping down my neck. It hurts so bad. Every step he takes it gets worse and worse. It's not much longer that I start to fade and I can't help but think how these men, who were just kids in the beginning, are no longer kids. My last thought is that they are now my brothers.