To Mary
The rain is endlessly followed by the constant bombardment, and I spend most of my days wet through and covered in mud.
So far I am one of the lucky ones as I have escaped trench foot.
As I look around the trench I am presently dug in I am surrounded by dead bodies, and blood and I like my fellow soldiers am covered in body lice.
The food is scarce and not very adequate I do miss your home cooked meals as I look at the snow falling it's brass monkeys all we seem to do is march to and from the enemy.
I fight day and night, I do wish the officers would stop the cavalry then I could go home to dance in the arms of you my love.
There goes another bomb while the bigwigs sit in their tents having tea.
I hope to be home before this reaches you and as extra gift, I will be home for Christmas.
From
Jona
This was the last letter I wrote home I never got to see the tears streaming down Mary's face as she opened this letter .
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