Friday, January 17, 2014

Letter Home, WW1

My dearest Josephine,
     Words cannot describe how much I miss home. Just being here has been one of the most difficult trials in my life. Being drafted was unlike anything I could have ever imagined. Men aren't treated well, here in the trenches. It's difficult to get a good nights sleep, if you sleep at all. It seems like constant warfare and nothing like the short war we had predicted. Bombs are flying, the smell of death and decay surround you. The trenches we dig for barricades begin to feel like graves. We fear the unknown, attacks that are nearly impossible to predict the outcome of. Running into no-mans land(the area between opposing trenches), is equivalent to suicide. 
     Our offensive tactics are starting to feel powerless, even with our amount of supplies. Blindly aiming bombs, spraying tear gas, rapidly firing into smoky air with our machine guns. The bodies are piling up and I never know if the man beside me, or myself, may be gone in an instant. Although are artillery has improved, I'm afraid, and bravery is a necessity when you're a soldier. I'm not sure if I'm cut out to fight for America, but I know I must. 
     Honestly, you're the only thing I can hold on to. Right now, I just want you to know that I'm safe. I'm sure the war will end soon, and America will come out victorious. Germany has no chance against us, and I'm not going down easy. I'm not just fighting for my country, I'm fighting to see you. I know it's been months, and you might worry often, but I'll come home to you. If I don't make it, Josephine, remember me as the man who loved you, not the man who left.

                                                                                                                         Love, 
                                                                                                                               Thomas

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